The Lost Girl of Astor Street(36)

“You look good.” Heat races up the back of my neck. “I mean, you don’t look like a detective.”

He touches his flat cap. “I changed my hat.”

“I see that.”

Mariano smiles. Had we met under more normal circumstances, a party or a school function, I would have hoped he’d come ask me to dance.

But we didn’t meet under normal circumstances. I shift my bag higher on my shoulder and step into the crosswalk. “If I’d been thinking clearly when we spoke on the telephone, I would have suggested meeting you at the station. That would have saved you time and energy.”

“But then I would have had to tell you no, and that would have taken time and energy as well.”

I glance at him. “I suppose you’re aware that you’re very stubborn.”

“I’m stubborn?” Mariano’s laugh rumbles. “You’re the one who phoned me to say she was venturing into known gang territory wearing a very pretty dress.”

My heart hitches in my chest. “It’s the daytime. I can’t imagine it’s so dangerous in the daytime.”

That’s what I had told myself all day yesterday during church and a slow Sunday afternoon, but Mariano snorts in reply.

The train station is alive with Chicagoans bustling about the city, their coats left unbuttoned, packages and briefcases dangling from arms. The air has the smell of a workday—a mix of coffee beans, newsprint, and shoe polish.

Mariano hands over the coins for our fare.

“I dragged you all the way out here, though,” I protest as we’re waved into the station. “I’m positive this wasn’t on your list of things to do today.”

“Oh, you’re positive, are you?” Mariano turns to me with arched eyebrows. “When you were at my desk Saturday, were you peeking at my calendar, Piper?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course not. I’m taking an educated guess.”

Mariano’s hand is light against my back as he guides me through the fray of people toward the platform. “I’m glad you called me. I wouldn’t want to find out you did this alone.”

I tense, despite my mad urge to lean against him, to let his weight support mine and slow the fissures of fear that weaken me at the core. But I don’t think a needy female would impress Mariano Cassano. Nor do I want him suspecting that I manipulated him out here with an ulterior motive.

“Well, I have lunch covered, anyway.” I pat my bag. “I swiped sandwiches from the school cafeteria.”

“Ah, good.” Mariano’s hands are in his pockets again, giving him a boyish look. “Because I don’t know where we would find lunch during our investigation of Johnny’s Lunchroom.”

I turn away, my nose in the air, and try to bite back my smile. Mariano laughs loud enough that I can hear it above the squeal of the approaching train. “I’m only teasing you, Piper. My stomach thanks you for thinking of it.”

After we’ve waited for passengers to exit, Mariano holds out a hand to help me across the threshold. The train is stuffy, and I pick a window seat underneath a fan. Mariano settles beside me in the green plush seat, his knee bumping mine.

As the train lurches onward down the tracks, I cross my arms around my bag, securing it against my chest. “I’ve never done anything like this. Do we need some kind of a cover story?”

Mariano’s mouth pooches as he considers my question. “This is one of those times when the truth will serve us just fine. My guess is that anyone we talk to will have seen the news about Lydia in the paper. You tell them you saw Willa Mae’s story, and you felt hopeful. Simple as that.”

“And what about you?” The train curves and we bend with it. “Who do we say you are?”

“When people ask you about Walter, what do you say?”

“Walter?” It’s strange, the twist of guilt in my gut. Should I have told Walter what I was doing? Should I have given him a chance to come with me, to help? I turn my gaze out the window. “He and I haven’t done many undercover investigations together, so I’ve never had to answer for him.”

“But surely you have to explain him to others sometimes.”

Do I? “In the neighborhood, people know he works for my family. I suppose they feel that’s a sufficient reason for seeing us out together.”

“What about outside of the neighborhood?” Mariano hooks his ankle over the opposite leg. “When the two of you are out, what do most think?”

“How should I know what they think? Maybe they think he’s my brother or my bodyguard. I don’t know. Times are changing. Even if people knew that Walter worked for my family, I doubt they would give it any thought.”

“Don’t make the mistake of assuming that just because you don’t think on it, no one else does.” Mariano shifts in his seat, and again his knee bumps mine. This time it settles there. “I suppose I’m too narrow to make for a convincing bodyguard, so we had better go with the brother angle.”

“But we look nothing alike.” A man on the other end of the aisle appears to be angling for a better view of my legs, and I rearrange my skirt to cover my knees. “And I disagree about the bodyguard thing. While you aren’t big like Walter, you have an air about you that suggests you aren’t a man to be messed with.”