Ingenue Part 12

Hank brushed Lorraineas fingers with his as he took the bottle from her, giving her a sympathetic look.

Lorraine knew she mustave looked tired and haggard, but Hank was his usual unkempt-in-the-s.e.xiest-possible-way self. Today he wore dark gray slacks and a pale blue V-neck sweater. His practically black hair was getting a little long and kept falling into his eyes. But it didnat look sloppy: it looked adorable.

The truth about how Lorraine had come to work at the Opera House hadnat scared Hank awaya"if anything, head become more devoted than ever. He stopped by her apartment every morning to walk her to work, even on days when he wasnat working. He kept trying to convince her to quit her job or go to the police, promising he would protect her.

Not that Hankas knight-in-s.h.i.+ning-armor act wasnat sweeta"it was. But it was also kind of stupid. Lorraine could only imagine what Carlito would do to her if she tried to back out on the deal now. Thor had tried to fire Hank the day he arrived, but then head seen how quickly Hank mixed drinks and had allowed him to stay.

aWhoas Frankie Balzini, anyway?a Lorraine reached for a lowball gla.s.s from a tray and went back to drying.

aOnly one of the top bootleggers in the citya"a good buddy of Owney Madden.a Thor took another puff on his cigar. aRaine, how about you get me a shot of that brandy? Iad better sample it before Frankie does, make sure itas top-notch. In fact, better make it a double.a Hank cleared his throat. aI can get that for you, bossa"a aI told Lorraine to do it,a Thor growled. aYou go on upstairs and help the boys unload the s.h.i.+pment. Dryina dishes is womanas work, anyway.a Lorraine wanted to wring his neck. Shead never dried a dish before now!

Hank reached under the bar to squeeze Lorraineas hand, then crossed the barroom and walked up the stairs.

Thor hopped onto one of the bar stools. aIf I didnat know any better, Iad say that bartenderas carrying a torch for you.a Lorraine felt her cheeks redden.

aI canat imagine why,a Thor went on, smacking his lips. aYouave got some nice gams, Iall give you that, but even you know you need about ten pounds oa paint to make that mug look presentable.a She handed him his drink. aAt least I can ride all the rides at the carnival.a Thor pushed the gla.s.s right back. aDonat be stingy, sweetheart.a He wove his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. aSo the canary and her spade boyfriend are coming in for her debut tomorrow night, right?a Lorraine nodded. aYep, at eight.a Thor grinned. aNow, thereas one choice bit of calico. Though I doubt sheall look so good once Carlitoas through with her.a Lorraine stopped drying. What was Thor talking about? aCarlito would never do anything to Gloria,a she said. aIt was the piano player who killed Carlitoas partner, not the singer. Heas the one whoas gonna get it.a Thor barked out a little laugh. aYou really donat know anything, do you? Iall let you in on a little secret.a He lowered his voice. aJerome wasnat the one who took Tony outa"it was that little bluenose.a Lorraineas blood went cold in her veins. aI donat believe you.a Thor took a sip of his brandy. aCarlito covered it upa"imagine how itad look if word got out that a seventeen-year-old girl knocked off one of his top guys?a aSoa"so what is he going to do once he catches them?a Thor shrugged. aWho knows? But the boss has got big plans.a He chuckled and then ran the flat of his hand across his neck, miming the slas.h.i.+ng of his throat.

Lorraine looked away in horror.

Thor knocked back the rest of his drink. aWell, Iam off to the little boysa room,a he announced, jumping off his stool.

Lorraine waited until head disappeared into the menas room. Then she dashed up the stairs and found Hank in the alley outside. aI need to talk to you,a she said. aIave only got a minute before he tracks me down. It takes him forever to get up those stairs, what with those tiny things he calls legs.a Hank c.o.c.ked his head. aWhatas up?a She relayed what Thor had just told her. It had nevera"not even for a seconda"dawned on her that Carlito would want to physically hurt Gloria.

Lorraine was a lot of thingsa"she knew that. She could be a b.i.t.c.h, a drunk, a doormat, a backstabber a sure. Was she proud of all those things? No. But a girl did what she needed to do. She wasnat a killer, though. She wasnat an accomplice to murder. And no matter how bad things had become between them, Gloria Carmody had been her best friend for most of their lives. Whatever bad things Gloria might have done, she didnat deserve to be killed for them.

aCarlito promised me he was just going after Jerome, that he was only going to rough him up and send him away. He promised me he wasnat going to kill anybodya"thatas why I took the job!a Hank rolled his eyes. aAnd you believed him?a Lorraine dropped her face into her hands. aYes!a she cried hopelessly.

Hank put a hand on her shoulder. aYou donat need to worry, Raine. Iall help you.a Lorraine shook him off, angry tears welling up in her eyes. aWhat can you do? Youare just a stupid bartender!a Her eyes widened as she heard the words come out of her mouth. aNo, no, I didnat mean youare stupida"but you are a bartender.a Thankfully, Hank didnat seem offended. Instead, he just gripped her shoulder tighter. He was so strong! aWe can warn them. Youave got their address, right?a The door of the club banged open. Thor stood there, angry, his face red. aWhat are you doing out here?a Hank held up a cigarette. aJust came out for a smoke, boss.a aGet back in here, Lorraine,a Thor commanded, his expression unchanging.

As Lorraine turned to follow Thor inside, Hank started talking again. aActually, boss, Iave got to run over to the butcheras to pick up those special steaks the Balzini party ordered.a Thor glanced back. aMake it quick.a aTheyall need a manageras signature.a Hank gave his million-dollar grin, holding the door open for Thor and Lorraine. aI know the butcher is awfully fond of Lorraine. They usually knock down the price if she tags along.a Hank really must have had a lot of experience with gangsters: Their inherent cheapness when it came to business always won out above all else.

aAll right.a Thor crossed his arms, then sighed. aBut donat you take any wooden nickels, Rainea"you understand?a Lorraine nodded, glad that in addition to being a sweetheart and absurdly handsome, her boyfriend was clever. Maybe bartenders were smarter than shead thought.

Lorraine stared up at the ugly brown building. aEew. Are you sure this is it?a Hank pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. When theyad run to Lorraineas office to get her purse and hat, Hank had copied down the address they had on file for Gloria. aYep, here we are. She didnat list an apartment number, though, so weare just gonna have to ask around.a Lorraine clutched Hankas arm as they walked up the steps. How wonderful it was to walk on a manas arm, even with all the terrible things going on. At six feet, two inches, Hank made Lorraine feel ladylike instead of like a too-tall ugly duckling. She imagined what it would be like to have him by her side at Barnard, how all the other girls would swoon over him (of course they would, he was swoon-worthy!) and then want to be her friends. And Lorraine would wear glamorous clothes, and Gloria would be safe, and safely out of Lorraineas life, and Hank would maybe go to school himself and stop bartendinga"well, he would mix her drinks at homea"and the two of them would get married and have beautiful babies. And get nannies to take care of the babies.

What a grand new life that would be!

But first she had to clean up the mistakes of the old life.

In the lobby of the shabby apartment building were a few peoplea"Italian factory workers and young families pa.s.sing through, and two men talking by the stairs.

Hank tapped one man on the shoulder. aSorry to bother you,a he said, abut weare looking for a friend of ours. Her nameas Gloria Carmody. She has short wavy red hair, green eyes, very pretty?a Lorraine tried not to bristle at the fact that Hank had called Gloria pretty.

The man tugged on his mustache. aShe young like you, yes?a he said in a heavy accent. aI see her here, there.a Lorraine grinned. aWonderfula"do you know which apartment sheas in?a Her face fell when the man shook his head. aNo, I only ever see her here, in lobby,a he replied.

The other man pointed at a door. aAlways seems to be heading to the bas.e.m.e.nt. Nothing down there but the boiler room.a Gloria had dumped her perfect life so she could sing in a speakeasy and fall in love with a poor black man, and now she was living in a boiler room? The girl did some crazy things.

Lorraine followed Hank down a rickety set of wooden stairs to a dirty cement-floored bas.e.m.e.nt. Piles of unidentifiable objects covered with tarps filled the room, with only narrow s.p.a.ces between them. Lorraine sneezed as their feet kicked up dust, and she tried not to touch any of the sooty pipes that snaked through the room. aI hate dirty things,a she said.

Hank appeared to be looking around for something. aJerome and Gloria both listed this building as their address, right? But everyone we saw in the lobby was white. No way would the landlord let a colored boy live here. And from what the tenants were saying, it doesnat sound like Gloria lives here, either.a He picked up a canvas bag he found on the floor and looked through it. aAha!a aI donat really think you should be going through peopleas things,a Lorraine said.

aWhat if Gloria only pretends to live here? This building is right on the edge of Harlem. Say she and Jerome live in one of those buildings, and Gloria sneaks through this one and into a black building through the back? A colored landlord wouldnat take any more kindly to her living in his building than the landlord in this building would take to Jerome.a aSounds far-fetched.a Lorraine wanted to tell Hank that he should stick to bartending and leave the detective work to someone else, but she bit her tongue.

aNot if she has a good disguise,a Hank said, tossing the canvas bag to her.

Inside were a long black coat and black gloves. Lorraine checked the label on the coata"it was from the House of Beer in Paris. Quality goods. Exactly the sort Chicago Gloria had owned. aThereas nothing here that would cover her hair.a Hank shrugged his big, beautiful shoulders. aShe probably keeps a hat in there. Maybe she took it with her.a He opened the back door and went outside. Walking to the ragged fence at the back of the lot, he started pus.h.i.+ng on each wooden slat. A scarred piece of wood swung aside at the gentlest poke. Lorraine followed him through the wide gap in the fence.

They found themselves in the backyard of a building that was in even worse repair than the one theyad left. Two older black women narrowed their eyes at Hank and Lorraine as they walked through the back door, but made no move to stop them. Lorraine had spent her life looking at and through colored people in the exact same way that she was being looked at nowa"it felt strange to be on the other side of that look.

Gloria had lived herea"in this dump? aWhat now?a Lorraine whispered, wincing at the scraggly grayish carpeting beneath her brocade pumps.

aI doubt they live on the first floor,a Hank replied, deep in thought. aWhy go to all this trouble if Gloria was going to hit all the foot traffic coming from the lobby? If I were trying to hide, I would live on the top floor.a aWhy?a Lorraine asked, intrigued by Hankas detective skills. aNot that I donat love the view from a penthouse, of course.a aLetas say someone was able to find out where they were but didnat know the apartment number. Theyad start knocking on doors on the first floor and work their way up, right?a Lorraine shrugged. aI guess so.a aSo letas start at the top and work our way down,a Hank said, heading toward the stairs.

Lorraine groaned and trudged after him. They eventually reached the top floor, which turned out to be the fourth. She tried to catch her breath and watched as Hank knocked on the nearest door.

A young black man looked as surprised as Lorraine when he opened the door. aYes?a he asked warily.

ah.e.l.lo, Iam Paul Seymour and this is my fiance, Betty,a Hank said, slinging his arm over Lorraineas shoulder. aWeare getting married soon and we were wondering if youad be willing to play the piano at our reception.a The man blinked. aIam sorry, sir, I think you got me confused with somebody else.a Hank was all fl.u.s.tered embarra.s.sment. aOh, I am so sorry! Arenat you Jerome Johnson?a The man shook his head. aThe piano player? Naw, that music comes from over in Four D.a Hank smiled back. aI mustave written the address down wrong. Thanks.a Lorraine stared at Hank as they walked down the hallway. aDid you used to act out there in California, too? What else do you do that I donat know about?a aWhat can I say? Iam a man of many talents.a They stopped in front of 4D. aAre you ready?a Lorraine exhaled. Now that they were finally here, her stomach was knotted into nervous coils. Surely Gloria still hated her. But Lorraine would just have to force Gloria to listen. For her own good.

She nodded. aIam ready.a Hank rapped on the door; a moment later a young man answered. A white man. He was dressed far too well to be living in a place like this, in a navy blue suit, and his dark hair looked as if it had been trimmed by a professional barber. The man didnat say anythinga"he just crossed his arms.

aUh, weare here to see Jerome Johnson,a Lorraine said nervously. aOr Gloria Carmody. Or both, really.a The man gave a crisp nod. aWait here.a He closed the door.

aWhoas that?a Hank whispered.

aIave never seen him before.a A moment later the door opened again. The man waved them in, reminding Lorraine of a butler. aPlease come inside.a Lorraine looked around at the dingy apartment, noting its peeling wallpaper and the tacky fact that the door led straight into the kitchen. The oak dining set screamed aflea market,a and the doors on the cabinets looked as if they were ready to fall off their hinges.

Lorraine couldnat imagine Gloriaa"model-student, well-mannered, diamonds-and-lace Gloria Carmodya"in this apartment. Lorraine felt a guilty lump welling in her throat. How much must Gloria have loved Jerome to put up with these hobo-camp living conditions?

The only other person in the room was an older man sitting in a chair by the window. His bronze hair was shot through with silver, as was his mustache. He was dressed in an impeccable gray suit that probably cost more than a yearas rent on this tiny apartment.

Lorraine took a quick, short breath as the man turned toward her.

aWhy, Lorraine Dyer,a he said. aYou have a lot of explaining to do.a CLARA.

When life gives you lemons, sometimes you need to stash them in the icebox and make a martini with olives instead.

Clara patted her short golden hair as she turned onto Tenth Street.

For once, she wished her hair were long enough to twist into a sophisticated knot at the nape of her neck. Her boyish party-girl bob clashed with her outfit, but otherwise she looked the part of a real journalist: Her burgundy blouse and black skirt were fitted enough to be flattering but conservative enough to look professional. She even had a notebook and a pencil in her purse.

It was nice to have something to be excited about when nothing else in her life seemed to be going right.

Things were still rocky with Marcus.

Theyad meet up, and Marcus would give her suspicious glances as if he expected her to break out a flask and start dancing on the nearest table. On evenings they didnat spend together, head ask painfully detailed questions about her plans as though he didnat believe a single word she was saying.

Head lost faith in her, and she was slowly trying to rebuild his trust. But it wasnat exactly s.e.xy to feel as if your boyfriend were a copper keeping watch over your every move.

And Marcus didnat even know that shead almost kissed Parker.

At the blue-lettered sign for Saundersa Furniture, she turned down a narrow alley, following Leeleeas directions to the Opera House, and quickly found the large steel door under the bare bulb.

The wall was plastered with old posters pasted one atop another, but the newest one caught Claraas eye: a stylized portrait of a beautiful woman with a flaming red bob and green eyes, standing next to a piano. It advertised the upcoming debut of athe scorching singer hot enough to make the Devil himself blusha: Zuleika Rose.

When Maude Cortineau had slurred that Gloria had a gig at the Opera House, Clara had a.s.sumed Gloria was working as a waitress. But noa"she was headlining under a made-up name. The girl had gumption!

Marcus would never forgive Clara if she wrote this story, but she wasnat here for either Parker or Marcus. She was here to warn Gloria about Carlito. If, in the process, she figured out an angle on Gloriaas story, all the better.

She rapped hard on the door.

aSorry, toots, we ainat open yet,a a boy said, poking his head out. His expression softened as he looked Clara up and down. aI mean, what can I do for you?a She gave him her full-wattage smile. aIam Clara Knowles, a reporter for the Manhattanite. Iave heard youare opening a fantastic new show here and I was hoping to do a story on it.a The boyas eyes flicked from the press pa.s.s to her legs. aI ainat used to newshounds beina pretty little Janes. The band doesnat rehea.r.s.e today, though. Show debuts tomorrow night.a Clara pushed herself through the doorway. aThatas finea"Iad much rather get a feel for the place before reporting on the band. Maybe talk to the manager?a aOkay,a the boy said. aFollow me.a It wasnat long before Clara was sitting at one of the Opera Houseas round tables, sipping seltzer. The speakeasy was more or less deserted this early in the day but was one of the grandest shead ever seen. A very good-looking bartender had come out through a door near the bar to pour her seltzer, but then head left the way head come. The only other person in the place was a grumbling old man pus.h.i.+ng a broom over the hardwood floor.

The place looked plush and had a red-tinted den-of-sin theme. Even though they were in a huge bas.e.m.e.nt, it didnat feel like ita"the ceilings were high and dark and the stage looked as elaborate as at any theater on Broadway. This would have been a good gig for Gloria, if only Carlito hadnat been behind it.

Clara needed to get information out of Sparka"an odd-looking man with wispy brown hair, wearing a boater and a red-and-white-striped vest, whoad introduced himself as the person running the club. aSo, have you been open long?a she asked.

Spark shrugged. aWe just changed the name to something sw.a.n.kier. Weave been around for a while.a He thought for a moment. aBut how about you just say in your article that weare new?a aOf course,a Clara said with a girlish smile. aWheread you find this Zuleikaaa"she glanced down at her notepada"aRose, is it?a aThe way you find most of aem. We put out an ad. She auditioned.a aYouare not worried about running a no-name singer when places like the Cotton Club and Connieas have got big stars like Bessie Smith and Nora Bayes?a aNaw. I picked Zuleika out myself,a he said, puffing out his skinny chest. aThat girlie can wail. No shame in beina the one to discover a first-rate torch.a aYou hired Zuleika?a aYes indeedy.a aSo youare the top dog around here?a Spark sat up a little straighter in his chair. aYou could say that.a The man with the broom sputtered a laugh. a aCept youad be lying,a he muttered under his breath.

aYou close your head, Rod,a Spark warned.

aWait, so youare not the manager?a Clara asked, looking from Spark to Rod.

aI most definitely ama"a Spark began, his neck turning red.

aHe doesnat make any decisions,a Rod continued in his gravelly voice. aMiss High-and-Mighty does. Or did, up until a few days ago.a A woman manager at a speakeasy? Clara certainly hadnat been expecting that. aCould I maybe have a word with her?a At just that moment, the door next to the bar swung open. A tall girl with a dark bob walked out, her large hazel eyes glued to a clipboard. Her profile was severe but not in an unattractive waya"she reminded Clara a little of Coco. The girl had a coltish figure that suited her white smocked dress perfectly.

Spark stood up, visibly annoyed. aHey, boss, this lady here from the Manhattanite wants to know the rumble on Zuleika and her band. Iad answer her questions myself, but I got some important work I gotta go finish.a The girl glanced at Spark as he pa.s.sed. aIf youare talking about the crossword puzzle, good luck coming up with an exotic bird that starts with Z.a This woman was the boss? As Clara took in the girlas features, she felt the blood draining from her face.

Lorraine Dyer.

The clutchingly desperate girl shead left back in Chicago.

The girl who was madly in love with Marcus Eastman.

The girl whoad tried to ruin Clara by exposing her to the world.

Clara gripped her pencil so tightly that it snapped in two.

Minus the racc.o.o.nlike makeup and the frantically grasping manner, Lorraine looked spiffier than Clara had ever seen her. Almost a woman. A moment ago, Clara had thought Lorraine seemed gracefula"elegant, even. But Clara couldnat forget that voice. Or that birdlike head darting forward on the thin neck. How was Lorraine a part of this? Could it be a coincidence that Lorraine was somehow managing the club where Gloria was singing?

Lorraine sidled up to the table. aHi, nice to meet you,a she said, jotting something on her clipboard. She didnat bother to look at Clara. aOf course the new show is going to be spectacular. Zuleika Rose is the catas pajamas, the catas meow, the catas paw and tail and whiskers anda"Oh, sheas the catas everything, really.a aLorraine,a Clara said.

Lorraine glanced up briefly but showed no sign of recognition. aIave never met Zuleika personally,a she went on. aOf course, very few have. Sheas like a night owl. Or just a regular owl, I suppose. But anyhow, Iave heard her sing and she doesnat hoot. She yodels like a real canary, let me tell youa"a Clara stood and said, aLorraine!a Lorraineas eyes got so big that Clara could see the whites all the way around her dark irises. Gone was the confident speakeasy managera"Lorraine was the insecure prep school outsider all over again.

aClara?a Lorraine asked in a gasp. aClara Knowles?a aIn the flesh.a aOh G.o.d, oh G.o.d.a Lorraine fanned herself and panted so heavily that Clara worried she would swoon.

Clara put her hand on Lorraineas arm. aIs there somewhere more private we could talk?a Lorraine stared at her in silence, then said, aYeah, yeah, uha"follow me.a Spark chose that moment to return. aWaita"you two know each other? How?a aOh, go blow a horn,a Lorraine said rudely, motioning for Clara to follow her.

aJust remember, Thoras comina back from his afternoon poker game soon!a Spark called after the girls as they pa.s.sed behind the bar and into a cramped, empty office. Lorraine closed the door behind them.

aClara, what are you doing here? Donat you know that this place is run by mobsters? Itas dangerous!a aI could ask you the same question,a Clara said, plopping down in the chair in front of the desk. aDoes Gloria know youare the manager here?a Lorraine bit her bottom lip. aNo.a aWhat kind of game are you playing?a Clara asked, raising her voice just slightly. aDid you know that Carlito owns this club? This isnat another one of your catty pranks, Lorraine. This is the Mob. Gloriaas in real danger.a aYou think I donat know all that?a Lorraine wailed, her voice rising to a shriek. aWho are you to come barging in here, telling me what to do? This is my club!a She rolled her eyes. aSort of.a aTell me youare not working for Carlito.a Lorraine slumped into the chair behind the desk, tears running down her cheeks.

aWhat did Gloria ever do to make you hate her that much?a aI was angry,a Lorraine answered. aGloria betrayed mea"she believed I went behind her back and told Bastian about her stupid affair. But I didnat! That wasnat me! I swear!a Clara reached across the desk and put her hand on Lorraineas. aI believe you.a aMy reputation was completely ruined, and Gloria didnat do a thing to help. She was too busy running off with mobster-killing black men. She was supposed to be my best friend, but she turned the world against me.a aIf thereas anyone you should be upset with, itas me, not Gloria,a Clara said. aI lied to youa"all of youa"and I took the man you loved away. All Gloria did was believe you talked behind her back a and youave got to admit thatas not really a stretch.a Lorraine sniffled. aYou asked why I hate her and I told you. Carlito offered me a job here if I would help him find Gloria and Jerome. So I did. And now Iam in love, so you can keep Mr. Marcus Eastman all to yourself in whatever love nest you two are sharing like some pair of diseased birds. Case closed, Miss Reporter.a Clara slammed her hands down on the desk. aWho are you, Lorraine Dyer? Who turns over her best friend to a certain death just for some kind of idiotic revenge?a aBut Iam nota"a aThis is going too far, Raine. Jerome isnat the one who killed that gangstera"Gloria is. And the reason she killed that guy? Because he was going to kill them. It was self-defense. Carlito is going to kill Gloria. But none of that matters to you, does it?a Lorraine gawped. aHow do you know about Tony? I only a I only just found out. I didnat know before.a Clara could see the old insecure girla"the one from Laurelton Prep, the one who still loved Gloria Carmodya"peeking out. aI swear.a aLook, youave done some terrible things,a Clara said, abut youare not a bad person. We all make mistakes. Itas how you fix them that counts.a Lorraine said, aIam way ahead of you. I am going to fix things. I have a plana"a aWhat, like your plan to humiliate me back in Chicago?a Clara snapped. Shead been an idiot to think she could appeal to Lorraineas better naturea"it didnat exist.

Clara grabbed her purse and stormed out, ignoring Lorraineas attempts to call her back. She almost knocked over an overdressed midget on the stairs and was too worked up even to find that strange.

Clara was still angry when she entered her apartment in Brooklyn.

She slipped off her heels, set her purse on the kitchen table, and walked into her bedroom, where she found Marcus sitting at her desk. It was strewn with notes shead written before she left for the Opera Housea"the details about Gloriaas situation with Carlito.

From the look on Marcusas scowling face, it was clear head read all of it. aI cannot believe you would do this.a aI wasnat going to publish it. Thatas just for me, so I could practicea"a aI donat believe you!a She backed out of the bedroom, shaken. Marcus had never raised his voice to her.

Marcus followed, the notes crushed in his hands. aIam going to find Gloria. Iave got to save her before your selfishness gets her arrested or killed.a He tossed the pages into the trash. aWhy I ever believed youad changed, I canat imagine.a He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and strode toward the door.

aI donat want to see you again,a he said, his hand on the doork.n.o.b. aBut then, I havenat really seen you all summer, anyway. Not the Clara I fell in love with.a With that, he slammed the door behind him.

Clara sat with her elbows on her knees, trying not to cry but unable to stop herself.

Then she heard a knock. Oh, thank goodness. Head come back.

She wiped her eyes and swung open the door.

But instead of Marcus, she saw a striking black girl. The girl was wearing a simple but pretty yellow dress. Something about her looked familiar, but Clara couldnat put her finger on what. A handsome black man with a black eye stood beside the girl, looking dapper in a tan suit and blue s.h.i.+rt.

aMay I help you?a Clara asked.

aI certainly hope so,a the girl said. aIam Vera Johnson. Jeromeas sister.a This was all too much to handle. aOh my,a Clara said softly, her knees going weak. aYou and I really need to talk.a And then she crumpled to the floor.

VERA.

Clara Knowles was so much more glamorous than Vera remembered.

Vera remembered Claraas coming with Gloria to the Green Mill. Back then, Clara had seemed like a refugee from Victorian times, looking as if shead been dressed by her grandmother.

But this Clara would have been at home on the cover of a magazine, modeling the latest fas.h.i.+ons. She was some kind of beautiful. Sw.a.n.ky and stylish and radiating the kind of smarts that made her look s.e.xier than any eighteen-year-old had the right to be. Her face looked just as perfect, aside from the fact that her mascara was running a little.

Or rather, that was how she had looked. Now she was pa.s.sed out.

aHold her head,a Vera said to Evan, whoad caught Clara when shead swooned. Vera went inside and wet a dish towel in the kitchen sink. Then she mopped Claraas forehead with it.

Slowly, Claraas eyes fluttered open.

aAre you okay?a Vera asked.

aIam fine now. Thank you,a Clara said. She woozily got to her feet. aUm, come in. Please.a The living room was spa.r.s.ely furnished with a blue sofa and an armchair, two lamps, and a lovely mahogany coffee table.

Clara collapsed into the armchair. aAnd you are?a she asked, turning to Evan.