Born of Corruption (3 page)

“Then I suppose I owe you both my everlasting gratitude.”

Reggie, also known as Reginald Winchester III, is an impossible momma’s boy. The formidable Momma Winchester is so afraid of Reggie being kidnapped, she rarely lets him out of her sight and has practically smothered the life right out of him. I can’t imagine what will happen when he comes of age and can officially strike out on his own. He’ll probably buy an island and hire an army to keep her away.

Reggie turns to Anna and Eugenia. “You two are in my group as well? Hallelujah, it’s my lucky day! A socialite and a psychic. Tell me, Miss Van Housen, what are the odds of Miss Gaylord giving me a kiss by the time the night is over?”

Eugenia snorts.

“Not good, Mr. Winchester, not good at all,” Anna answers, her lips curling upward.

His face contorts in a dramatic frown. “Well, then, can you at least tell me if I’m going to live a long, decadent life or die tragically young?”

Anna shifts her shoulders, discomfort written all over her pretty features. Before I say anything, Jack breaks in, putting a hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “You get bigger every time I see you, kid. You’re as tall as I am now.”

Reggie ducks his head. “Mummy says it’s the superior Winchester genes.” He turns back to me. “Mummy and I just got back from across the pond, you know. I checked out that group you recommended, Cynthia, the Society for Psychical Research? Not a very friendly bunch.”

Next to him, Anna pales. “Are you all right?” I ask, catching her elbow.

She swallows and nods. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

She’s clearly embarrassed, so I move on. “Now, where is our third man?”

“Right here, I believe. Your other man dropped out so Olivia sent me in his place. I hope I’ll do.”

The fellow speaking has an open friendly face and wavy chestnut hair. I frown. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I know you?”

He puts out his hand. “Curtis O’Donnell. But you can call me Curt. I came with the Vanderbilts.”

I take his hand. “Nice to meet you. Welcome to our happy little group.”

Just then Olivia hurries up to us and pulls on my arm. “Now that you know what you need to find, can you give me an itinerary of where you’re going? And call me on the phone every once in a while? We need to keep in touch in case a team wins before you get back.” She seems a bit harried, not at all her normal composed self.

Anna peers at the list in my hands. “I know a place where we can get a crystal ball,” she says. “It’s on the way to the Cotton Club.”

“That’s what we’ll do,” I tell Olivia. “I’ll try to check in on occasion. Will that work?”

Olivia nods.

I turn back to the group. “Everyone ready?” Anna’s watching Eugenia with a puzzled frown. Eugenia is staring hungrily at Jack, who is looking around the room, preoccupied, his mind clearly somewhere else. Reggie is trying to look down Eugenia’s dress. Curt is puffing on a cigarette, frankly studying everyone in the group like he’s Sherlock Holmes or something.

I sigh.

Why do I get the feeling this scavenger hunt may not turn out to be quite as much fun as I thought it would be?

Three

L
ess than a half an hour later we’re all being silly and gin giggly, packed like sardines in the back room of a dingy secondhand shop. Anna’s fortune-teller friend Madame Zola is sitting in a straight-backed chair in front of a small table draped with the same blue silk as the walls. She’s wearing a brightly patterned turban and her eyes are lined with kohl.

A delicious shiver travels down my arms. Even though Anna told me that most mediums are fakes, I don’t believe her. Anna’s the real thing, after all. How do we know this Madame Zola is a phony? She certainly looks genuine to me.

“You are on a great quest,” the fortune-teller intones.

Curt snorts. “Yeah, for a new Lincoln.”

Reggie lifts his flask. “I’ll drink to that.”

“You’ll drink to anything,” Jack snorts, taking out a cigarette.

“Hear, hear.” Reggie takes another pull from the flask and then peers with one eye into the opening. “Damn. I think I’m done.”

“Look, can we just skip the drama?” Jack says, glancing at the wristwatch I bought for him last Christmas. “We have a scavenger hunt to get back to.”

I frown. Why do I feel as if he’s eager to get back to more than the scavenger hunt?

Next to him, Eugenia pouts. “Oh, Jacky, you’re ruining our fun! At least let her tell us something about our future, just for ducks!”

Is it just me or did Madame Zola roll her eyes?

Anna smiles at the fortune-teller. “We actually are on a quest. We’re on a scavenger hunt and I was wondering if you would lend us one of your crystal balls for the night.”

Madame Zola raises an eyebrow. “A scavenger hunt? This is a game?”

I nod and show her the list of items.

“I see. So this is what young people do for fun.” She shrugs, looking unimpressed. “To each his own, I guess. I’ll give each of you a one-line fortune for five dollars apiece.”

“That’s highway robbery!” Curt says, shocked.

Madame Zola shrugs again. “Someone who is giving away automobiles as a prize can surely afford to pay my rate.”

I tap Jack on the arm. “Just give her the money. She is loaning us her crystal ball, after all.”

Jack pulls his wallet out of his overcoat and hands the woman a fifty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Madame Zola hikes up her silk caftan and shoves the money into the pocket of the very modern striped dress she’s wearing underneath. “Line up,” she commands us.

“Am I the only poor person here without a car?” Curt asks. “Because I’d really like to try to win one, if we could get back to the task at hand?”

Eugenia gives a patronizing sniff, but Anna laughs. “I don’t have one either,” she says.

“It will only take a minute,” I chide.

I push Anna toward Madame Zola and her smile fades. As much as I love her, there’s a lot I don’t understand about her. I adore this sort of thing, while she seems to find it excruciating. Then I remember how she looked at lunch after having a vision. Maybe she has reasons for her reluctance.

Madame Zola looks up at Anna and her face softens. “You’ll be a huge success in Europe. Don’t worry so much!”

Looking relieved, Anna steps away and I move forward, breathless with anticipation.

Her eyes narrow as she regards me. “Stay off roofs” is all she says.

My heart slams against my rib cage and I swallow.

Behind me, Eugenia snorts. “Oh, for the love of God, don’t make her any more terrified of heights than she already is.”

I give her a withering look as I join Anna.

“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Anna whispers. “She’s just jealous because you don’t look like a ferret.”

I giggle. That’s the only mean thing I’ve ever heard Anna say about anyone. She must really dislike Eugenia.

Apparently we’re not the only ones. Madame Zola is staring up at Eugenia with distaste.

“Well?”

“Lower your expectations.”

Eugenia opens up her mouth. “That’s it? We paid good money for that?”

“That’s all I have for you.” Madame Zola looks past her. “Next.”

It’s Jack’s turn.

“Well, aren’t you a handsome devil?” She pats his hand and I smile.

“Be careful of those you do business with. They may come back to haunt you.”

“Really?” Tension stiffens his shoulders even though his voice is carefully nonchalant.

He steps away and Reggie takes his place. This time it’s Madame Zola who glances away as if she can’t stand the sight of him. “Quit the drink or it will kill you.”

Reggie laughs. “You sound just like Mummy.”

Madame Zola gets up and strides over to a cupboard. She takes out a crystal ball and wraps it in a piece of black velvet. I almost clap. First item down!

Madame Zola hands it to Anna. “Please give my best to Jacques and your . . . lovely mother.”

Something in Madame Zola’s voice tells me that she likes Anna’s mother about as much as I do.

“Hey, what about me?” Curt asks. Madam Zola looks up at him. She looks less like a fortune-teller than a sad old woman who’s seen too much. “Your secrets will all be revealed,” she says.

Curt swallows. “I hate when that happens,” he jokes, but I can see his discomfort.

What’s wrong with him?

“Thank you for loaning us the ball,” I tell Madame Zola, and she nods.

“Could you lock the door on your way out,” she asks, her voice exhausted. “I think I’ve had enough for one evening. Good luck with your game. You’re going to need it.”

Her warning casts a pall on my mood as we drive to the Cotton Club, though no one else seems to notice. Unable to find a place to pull up right in front of the club, Al parks across the street and we spill out of the motorcar like revelers at a masquerade. The sign for the Cotton Club glows like an electric constellation, casting odd shadows across the faces of my companions.

What I really want is to get Anna alone and ask her if she could read Jack’s mind for me. Or anyone’s, for that matter. I’d sure like to know what Eugenia is thinking. I watch as she clings to Jack’s arm and whispers something in his ear. Then again, maybe I don’t want to know.

“Stay here,” I order. “Anna and I will run in and get the program.”

“Well, I for one will be glad to relax and have a ciggy,” Curt says. “How about you?” He holds out his open cigarette case to Eugenia, who shrugs and takes one. He lights it for her and they exchange a look as she leans forward.

I frown, watching them. Could Eugenia really be dallying with someone other than Jack? Could I be that lucky?

Turning away from them, I grab Anna’s hand and we race across the street. She hesitates when we reach the other side.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She gives me a rueful smile. “Sorry, it wasn’t too far from here that I was abducted.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. And I thought my life was dangerous.”

She laughs as we enter the Cotton Club. “Maybe that’s why we’re friends!”

An older man with his hair slicked back gives us a suggestive smile as we walk in. Next to me, Anna screws her face up and crosses her eyes at him. It’s so completely out of character that I burst out laughing. I’m going to miss her like crazy.

After grabbing a program, we step back out into the cold night. I catch Anna’s coat sleeve to hold her back before joining the others. “I have a favor to ask. Some odd things have been happening and I’m worried that Jack is having an affair. Can you read his mind?”

Shock widens her eyes. “Oh, no. I’m sure he’s not.”

My heart catches painfully in my chest. “Me too. But I need to rule that out before I can figure out what’s really going on.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

I quickly tell her about the phone calls and Jack’s preoccupation. She just shakes her head. “I’m sure that’s not it.”

“How do you know?” I ask, eager for more reassurance. “Have you read his thoughts?”

Anna snorts. “No. But I can see that he adores you.”

I sigh, disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Cyn, but I really can’t read minds,” she says.

“There has to be some way. . . .”

“Have you tried talking to him?” Anna’s voice is innocent and I give her a sharp look. Is she really that naive?

Probably. In spite of a life of hardship and travel, Anna is still strangely innocent about a lot of things. Especially men. “Come on, we should go. The others will be wondering what happened to us.”

We’re about halfway across the street when I hear a loud pop. Instinct takes over and I hit the wet pavement, Anna dropping next to me at almost the same moment. More shots sound and I cover my head with my arms . . . like that would stop a bullet. Bits of gravel dig painfully into my cheek as I press myself against the ground. Next to me, I hear Anna whimper and remember that she’d been shot not too long ago.

Another volley of bullets sounds and I can hear the people waiting to get into the Cotton Club screaming.
What the hell is going on?

Then, as suddenly as it started, it’s over. My heart thuds in my ears as I glance over at Anna. “Are you all right?” I ask.

“I think so,” she says, her voice trembling.

I finally look up, frantically searching for Jack. Al is running toward me, his gun drawn.

“Stay down,” he yells, running past me.

I follow his orders until I hear Jack’s voice calling my name. Leaping to my feet, I rush toward him, tears springing to my eyes. “Jack!” I launch myself into his arms, relief washing over me. “What happened? What was that?”

Jack shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

Al, his weapon safely hidden back in his coat, comes up to us with Anna just a few steps behind him. “It looks like we got into the middle of a ‘family’ fight,” Al says. “Shots were coming from two different directions.”

I can tell by the suspicious look on his face that he doesn’t think the shots were entirely random. But then, he’s my bodyguard. He’s paid to be suspicious.

Reggie, Eugenia, and Curt join us.

“No one was hurt, I hope.” I look back at the crowd in front of the club. A few flappers are sobbing hysterically but no one seems to be injured.

Al shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Someone important must be inside,” Curt muses.

Al gives him a sharp look. “Why would you say that?” he asks.

Curt shrugs. “Skirmishes like that usually only happen if someone’s boss is in the neighborhood, if you know what I mean.”

I frown. I know what he means, but the question is, how does he know that? Who is this Curt anyway?

“I think I should take you home,” Al says.

He’s probably as shook up about the incident as I am. Who knows what my uncle would do to him if something happened to me on his watch. I shake my head.

“No,” I tell him. “There’s no reason to be concerned. It doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

Eugenia looks from me to Al, confused. “Of course it didn’t. Why would it have anything to do with us?”

“We should probably get a move on,” Anna says, glancing around at the knots of upset people in front of the club. “The police will be here soon and we have more items on our list.”

I can tell by her manner that she hates the police as much as I do and Al gives a decisive nod. “Where else do you have to go?” Al asks. He’s not happy, but he’s bowing to my authority. For now.

“I have a copy of
So Big
,” Reggie says. “But Mummy’s no doubt waiting up for me so I’m not volunteering to go get it. A Lincoln isn’t worth it.”

Our laughter breaks the tension.

“I know an all-night drugstore close by that might have a copy,” Al says, holding the door open for me.

“Perfect,” I tell him. “I can telephone Olivia from there.”

I look back as I climb into the motorcar and spot Mrs. Spetford weaving her way through the crowd, waving a piece of paper. I recognize several other people from my party, but I don’t see Nico among them. Where could he have gone?

“We better hurry,” Reggie says, waving a hand in Mrs. Spetford’s direction. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones marking items off the list.”

I nod, disquiet churning in my stomach. “Apparently.”

“Let’s stop by my place,” Curt says. “I have a top hat left over from a costume party.”

“And I have a pair of handcuffs,” Anna adds.

Reggie’s eyes bug out at that and I giggle.

They give Al their addresses and we speed off into the night, putting the gunshots behind us. Reggie, Anna, and Curt try to sing “Yes Sir, That’s My Baby,” and even Eugenia is giggling at their atrocious harmonies. Only Jack, staring out the window, seems withdrawn and preoccupied. We stop by Anna’s for the handcuffs and then head over to Curt’s apartment building on West 42nd.

While waiting for Curt, I take the opportunity to grill Jack. “What’s going on with you and Nico?”

He frowns. “Nothing. Why?”

“You disappeared with him while I was giving the rules for the game.”

“Oh, that. I was just trying to find out why he was there.”

Disappointment curls around my chest like a ribbon.

Jack’s lying. I can tell by the way his nostrils flare. “Did you find out anything?”

He shrugs. “He said he came with friends.”

“He doesn’t have any friends,” I murmur, and then lapse into frustrated silence.

“What’s taking him so long?” Eugenia asks restlessly from the front seat.

Reggie leans forward over the back of the seat and says in her ear, “Maybe he’s giving you and me time alone. Rather sporting of him, actually.”

She swats at him with her hand like he’s a bug and Anna giggles.

Eugenia has a point though. What could Curt be doing?

“What took you so long?” I ask when he finally rejoins us.

“Sorry,” he says, sliding in next to Eugenia. “I had to make a quick phone call. Work stuff.”

“At this time of night?” I ask.

For a moment he looks discomfited and then grins. “Sure, didn’t I tell you? I’m a bootlegger by trade.”

Jack coughs and I pat his back while Reggie launches into a ridiculous story about filling a swimming pool with champagne. Eugenia whispers something in Curt’s ear and I watch with a puzzled frown. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Eugenia was flirting, though I don’t think Curt has nearly enough money for her taste.