The Bachelor Girl's Guide to Murder (26 page)

“Yes?”

“You're not writing this down. Don't you want it for your paper?”

Ray would give his left arm to expose Gavin Crawley, but would he do it at the expense of exploiting this timid, shivering girl? “I have a good memory, Tippy.”

“There were rumors from the shirtwaist factory—I'd go with the girls there to the dances sometimes—that he had walked out with a girl on Montague's staff. I followed him to the Policeman's Ball and there he was with Jem. Haven't seen him in weeks and he pops up with Jem Watts. Telling her things that he told me, probably. And I
knew then… ” Tippy grabbed Ray's sleeve. “It's pretty horrible hearing the words that you thought were just for you said to someone else.”

Ray nodded. They stood in silence a moment. “You want me to use this information to ruin him?”

Tippy smiled sadly at her shoes. “Jem took me to see a moving picture show once.
Oliver Twist
. And in it there's this woman—Nancy—and she will do anything to protect her man. No matter how he treats her.”

“And you're like that Nancy?”

“I don't want to be trapped by Gavin. He'll keep using the same words.” She shook her head. “So you'll run this—all of this—in your paper? Destroy Gavin, Mr. DeLuca.”

Ray thought a moment. “The worst he can do is maybe make you lose your job. But he can't do that without exposing himself as the one who had been using you at Spenser's. Is there more you're not telling me, Tippy?

“I… can't.”

“Then there's little I can do for you other than make sure you get to the trolley.” He took Tippy's arm and steered her toward Agnes Street. They walked in silence, Ray keeping a slight grip on her elbow. He was thinking over her words—apparently to such a distracted degree that he didn't notice the footprints closing in behind him until they were very near.

Ray looked over his shoulder and cursed in Italian. “Tony, go home.”

“Can't do that, Ray.”

Forbes stepped out of a shadow to join Tony.

“Tony, you keep the worst company,” Ray said. “Streetcar is right there, miss.” Ray inclined his head and motioned for Tippy to leave. Tippy looked unsure. Tony and Forbes settled their eyes on her, and something in Ray's chest jumped. “Tippy, please go.”

Tippy turned to leave.

Forbes grabbed her arm. “You've got it all wrong, DeLuca. We're not here to see you at all.”

“Pity,” Ray said sardonically.

Tony edged in. “We're here to see this young lady. If you'll kindly get on with your business.”

“Tippy,” Ray said, widening his stance slightly, “you seem to already know Mr. Forbes here. Allow me to present Tony Valari, my brother-in-law and father to my little nephew, Luca. For whom he daily sets a shining example.”

“
Silenzio,
Ray!”

Forbes tightened his grip on Tippy. “Come on, young lady.”

Ray felt ill. “Oh, don't start this again. Does your nose need another adjustment, Forbes?”

“This has nothing to do with you!” Forbes grabbed Ray's lapel with his free hand. “I haven't forgotten, DeLuca.”

Ray wished for a nice, quiet hole to sink into.

“Problem here?”

They all four turned at the rap of a stick and the sudden appearance of a constable in hat and regalia.

“Constable Forth!” Ray's relief was audible in his voice.

Forbes let go of Ray.

Jasper's eyes narrowed at Tony and Forbes. “The Morality Squad is getting rather violent these days.” Though not as bulky as Forbes, Jasper's height gave him the advantage.

Tony slipped away down the street. Forbes lingered, watching Jasper's stick thumping the pavement.

“Your friend has the right idea,” Jasper said. “I suggest you also go about your business, Mr. Forbes.”

“Just doing my duty, Constable.” He spat the latter word. “Montague's orders.”

“Montague is at that big soirée. So I am sure he won't mind your taking a break from your unbridled enthusiasm. Besides, it looks to me that this young lady was not without an escort, so you have no reason to detain her.” Jasper thumped the ground a few more times.

With a growl at Jasper and Ray, Forbes turned and walked away.

“You all right, Ray?” Jasper asked kindly.

“Thanks to you.”

“What about you, miss?” he asked Tippy.

The girl was stiff, except for a slight trembling in her hands. Perhaps she was imagining what could have happened had Ray and Jasper not been around.

Jasper extended the crook of his arm to her. “I'll see you safely home.” With a quick smile to Ray he led Tippy off into the night.

Ray fell against a lamppost and caught his breath. Clearly, a girl could not end her association with Gavin Crawley that easily. His eyes flitted back in the direction of the Elgin Theatre, where light spilled over the sidewalk.

What did that mean for Jem?

He didn't want to think about it. He settled his bowler on his head, hoped that Skip would finish up for him, and set off in the direction of St. Joseph's.

Merinda looked around for DeLuca, but he had long since left. On the other side of the room, Jem was yawning. Merinda couldn't blame her: Crawley was insufferable company. Though she couldn't see him now and wondered if he had also left. Montague was making a falsely humble speech that was spilling over itself with a long list of his strengths.

Finally reunited, Jem told her that, no matter how it furthered their investigations, she could not stand another moment in Crawley's company, and she would entertain his advances no further. However, having seen the Winter Garden Theatre, she was adamant that they stay long enough for Merinda to steal a peek herself.

Merinda agreed on the condition that they wait out the rest of the Montague's speech in the vicinity of the refreshment table.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Hog has become my home. There's something comforting about the smell of wood shavings and fresh ink and pulp mingling with the hops and barley from the nearby distillers. In the summer, the seagulls caw while the ship's horns belch as they pass the rim of the harbor.

From a journal Jem has nearly committed to memory

R
ay flicked the electric lights off. While most of the city's papers had had reliable electricity for at least a dozen years, in this respect as in all others, the
Hog
trailed behind. The lights buzzed and danced before finally extinguishing.

The sky was candy pink as he clicked the door behind him and hurried back to his bed at St. Joseph's. The last beams of sun were yawning over the roofs of the distilleries, and men outside St. Joe's were milling around. Ray spotted Lars on one side of the rickety porch, a notebook open on his lap. As Ray was meandering over to join him, he heard his name bellowed from the street. Ray and Lars looked up.

“Forbes,” Ray said, “go away.”

“Tony and I want to have a little chat. About last night.”

Ray noticed Tony hovering beside a shrub nearby.

Lars looked confused.

Ray shrugged his shoulders at the big Swede. He slumped down the walkway and onto Elizabeth Street. “What do you want to talk about?

“You interrupted us.”

“From accosting that poor girl?”

Forbes took Ray's collar. “You get in a lot of people's business, you know that?”

“Part of my trade,” Ray said uneasily. He didn't like the grip Forbes had on him.

“Not anymore,” Tony said, stepping into Ray's face. “Mr. Montague's tired of you—and your paper.”

Ray could easily take Tony, but Forbes? Forbes was taller. Much taller. Ray, on the other hand, was faster.

Which was good, because at that moment, Tony reared back to deliver a punch. Ray slipped aside and set off down Elizabeth Street.

Ray only got as far as Agnes Street before Forbes caught up. He grabbed Ray and, in the same movement, drove his fist right into the stomach, taking his breath. The second was even harder, and Ray was sure it had broken a rib. Unable to peer beyond the fuzz in his eyes, Ray tried feebly to avoid more impacts. More blows fell, and one landed square on his jaw, rattling his teeth.

Then he was pushed back and someone stood over him. A blurry figure grappled with Forbes, ducking punches and landing blows of his own.

Ray tried to keep his eyes open. The world was spinning and sickly green. His breath spurted in chugs and gasps. There came a sound of a large body striking the ground hard, and with unfocused eyes he beheld a large man chasing off two smaller figures who looked a lot like Forbes and Tony.

Then that someone had an arm around Ray and was lifting him up.

Ray blinked at his savior. “Lars?” He felt the sticky blood at his temple and pressed a hand into his aching ribs.

Lars spoke in Swedish in sympathetic tones.

Ray assured him he was fine. He bent over to catch his breath, then he straightened as gingerly as he could. “Thank you, my friend. You really came through.” He held onto Lars's arm a moment and
coughed. Lars' eyes clouded with worry. “I'm fine. I just have to see someone. I'll see you later. Thank you again.”

He fumbled in his pocket for a few bills and splurged for a cab ride. Lars helped him in and the cab drove off.

“Where to?” the driver asked, raising an eyebrow as he noted the blood on the side of his face. “Nearest hospital?”

“No.” Ray couldn't go to his sister's, not with Tony lurking about. “Take me to 395 King Street West.”

“Merinda, there is an unmarried man asleep in our house.”

“It's not my fault he fell asleep,” said Merinda, barely glancing up.

Jem had returned from the nickelodeon with Tippy, waltzed into the sitting room, and almost sat on poor, bloodied Ray. “I'm not moving him,” Merinda continued. “Mrs. Malone was a fright having to wash him up and bandage him. I still think we should go to the doctor.”

Jem looked over her shoulder and then shot Merinda a pleading glance.