The Lost Girl of Astor Street

“Oh no.” I stop walking. “You can’t let me be the reason you’re late to work. Please, Mr. Thomas, just point me in the direction of the nearest train station. I’ll be fine.”


“Emma would skin me alive if she heard I’d done that to her closest friend. Come on, now. No more arguing.”

It takes a surprising amount of energy to pretend to limp, and by the time we arrive at Robbie’s apartment building, my blue cotton dress sticks to me. I sneak a glance behind me as we go through the dingy double doors of the apartment building, but Emma is nowhere to be seen. She’s going to be fine, right? It’s a short walk back to the car, and I’ll rejoin her in less than a half hour, I’m sure.

But I can’t help seeing Lydia in my mind’s eye, waving to me from her gate for the last time.

“I think I have a bandage from when I sprained my wrist.” Robbie slides back the grate on the elevator door and helps me in. “We could wrap that around your ankle, and you could call for someone to come pick you up.”

Sidekick nuzzles close to my leg and whimpers as the elevator gets going. I rub his ears. “It’s okay, boy.”

Robbie grins down at him. “How old is he?”

“I don’t know, actually. I’ve just had him a month or so.”

Robbie holds out his hand, but Sidekick only cowers. “He has a sweet temperament.”

“He does. But I think he would turn on a man if I gave the word.”

“That’s a good trait in a dog, I say.” Robbie releases the operating button as the elevator lines up with the third floor. He pulls aside the grate, then pushes up the sliding door and helps me off.

As soon as Robbie opens his apartment door, I see that Emma can put to rest her fears of him being married. It’s a studio apartment with dull white walls, a single bed, and not a feminine touch in sight. I exhale a breath of relief.

“Here, Miss Sail.” Robbie pulls out a beat-up kitchen chair. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you. And you can call me Piper.”

“I’ll get that bandage for you.”

As Robbie rummages around the bathroom, I soak in as many details of the room as I can. If only it were possible to take photographs with your mind. Of course, what would I photograph? There are no papers lying about—not even a pile of mail—no family pictures, and no mementos to suggest past vacations or even a favorite sports team. The place doesn’t even have a scent to it. It’s all very . . . stark. Maybe most bachelors have sparse apartments? I’ve never been in one before.

Or perhaps it’s in Robbie’s best interest to keep his apartment void of personality. Easy to pack up and make a clean getaway.

“Who can I telephone for you, Miss Sail?” Robbie asks as he reenters the room with a bandage in hand.

“I think I can make it to the station okay once we get my ankle wrapped.”

Robbie gives me a skeptical look. “Miss Sail—”

“Piper.”

“Piper, I can’t in good conscience load you on a train by yourself in this condition. Not in this neighborhood. And as much as I would enjoy taking you back downtown, I can’t afford the time.”

“No, I wouldn’t even ask it of you.”

I wrap the bandage over my stocking. Who am I going to call? Tim would ask too many questions. Walter left for California on Sunday. Not only that, but I have the Ford, and Nick and Alana likely left the house with the Chrysler. Jeremiah? That could get Emma in hot water at home . . .

I wince. Mariano is the only person who won’t be irate with me when he learns the truth. Who might even help me figure out what Robbie Thomas is up to.

“Can I dial a number for you?” Robbie asks.

Robbie’s telephone hangs on the kitchen wall, a strange fixture in this apartment of no frills.

“No, I can manage, thank you.”

Robbie moves to the kitchen, tidying a space that looks perfectly fine in an effort to provide me privacy as I spin the dial.

“Hello?” The male voice that answers at Mariano’s apartment is unfamiliar.

“I’m calling for Mariano.”

“He’s at some dame’s house.”

“Oh.” My gut clenches—Zola’s? “What time do you expect him home?”

“I dunno. Late? Who is this?”

I hang up, my face hot and my heart hammering a painful beat. So Mariano’s at a girl’s house. That’s fine. I’ve been ignoring him, after all. I take a deep breath as I lift the receiver to my ear once more. Maybe Nick and Alana are still at home. It’s better, really, to call them. I certainly don’t need to give Mariano the impression that I need him.

“Sail residence.” Joyce’s voice is crisp over the phone.

“Hi, it’s Piper.”

“Where are you calling from? Is everything all right?”

“Is Nick around?”

“No, dear. He and Miss Kirkwood left about ten minutes ago.”

Blast. It’ll have to be Jeremiah. I really hope this doesn’t make life difficult for Emma.

“But Detective Cassano is here, if you’d like to speak with him.”

My eyes fly open and my heart soars. “Mariano is there?”

“He’s been sitting on the front porch the better part of an hour. Would you like to speak with him?”

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