The Lost Girl of Astor Street(40)

“Oh, Fairbanks was dashing as Robin Hood, but there’s just something about Italian men.” I punctuate this with what I hope sounds like a shy, girlish giggle. I don’t let myself look at Mariano, who sits stiffly on the stool beside me.

As ridiculous as Mariano must find my flirting, Johnny leans against the counter. His smile is wolfish, and the weight of Nick’s pocket knife is suddenly comforting.

“He’s a busy man, Piper.” Mariano’s brusque words break into the silence. “Ask him what we came for.”

Johnny glances at Mariano for the first time, and anxiety squeezes my lungs. Will he recognize him? How often is Mariano around here? I knew it’d be better for me to come in alone.

“This is my bodyguard.” The words spill out. “My daddy is very protective.”

Johnny turns back to me. “A beautiful girl like you? That’s smart. Now, how can I help?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Ah.” Johnny’s word seems to say, of course you are.

“I’m sure you’ve had tons of people in here since that article came out about the girl from Detroit using your telephone.”

“It’s just the strangest thing.” Johnny straightens. “This neighborhood is tight-knit. We live here, work here, and play here. Why, all my girls live within a block of this place.” He makes a sweeping motion to indicate the waitresses. “Ally over there lives just upstairs, even. It’s nutty to think something like what happened to the Detroit girl was going on in our backyard, because it’s just not like that here.”

I dig in my bag for Lydia’s photograph. “And I’m sorry to have to take up your time with one more—”

“I don’t mind, Miss.” He takes the picture from my hand with an indulgent smile, and I feel my own waver. Feel my eyes turn watery.

“Forgive me.” I fumble for my handkerchief. “Lydia went missing last week, and I just can’t seem to stop crying.”

The sound of shattering dishes fills the room, and I jump.

Several tables away, one of the waitresses crouches on the ground beside a shattered coffee mug. She keeps her back to us—to her boss—but her shoulders are hunched in embarrassment.

“Happens to everyone, doll face.” Johnny turns back to me and lowers his voice. “Tall dames make for the clumsiest waitresses.”

I smile because he expects me to. As he holds my gaze, seeming to have forgotten the photograph he’s clutching, I make a show of dabbing my eyes. “I know it’s a long shot, Mr. Walker, but do you recognize her? She has red hair and blue eyes.”

My breathing hitches as he studies the picture.

“Seen this girl in the papers, but nowhere around here.” His voice holds apology.

The hope within me crumbles, and tears spill over.

“Sorry, doll. Wish I could help.” He rests Lydia’s photograph on the gleaming lunch counter. “She’s a pretty young thing.”

“And sweet too.” My hanky is smudged gray from eye kohl. “Not at all like me.”

Johnny’s hand is heavy and unwelcome on my shoulder. “Leave your telephone number with the waitress, honey, and I’ll call if I see her. We could even hang up a notice in the front window, if you’d like. Lots of people come through my doors, after all.”

I sniffle and smile up at him, despite wanting to yank away from the weight of his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Walker.”

He gives me a squeeze and steps back as the waitress, who must have made quick work cleaning up the broken ceramic, delivers our lunch. “Thanks, doll. And when this young lady finishes her lunch, you bring her whatever dessert she fancies. On the house.”

Johnny takes a step away but pauses at Mariano. He studies him a moment, and then winks. “One for her guard too. You’ve got a hard job, son.”

Mariano grunts, never breaking character, but embarrassment flames my cheeks.

“Sorry about your friend.” The soft words come from the waitress, who’s staring at Lydia’s picture, still face-up on the edge of the counter. The waitress is, indeed, unusually tall. “She sounded like a lovely girl.”

After the way the laundress reacted to Lydia, the compassion of a stranger overwhelms me, and I can’t even manage a thank you before she walks away, her auburn bob swishing.

“Well, that was quite a show you put on.” Mariano says, his voice low despite no one being around. “When I investigate someone, the best offer I get is for a knuckle duster. You, on the other hand, get free dessert.”

“For my bodyguard too.” I reach for my fizzing Coca-Cola. “Flirting is miserable work. How do girls do it all the time?”

“You seemed to know what you were doing.”

I snort.

“I mean it.” Mariano glances around, but the closest people to us are the old men drinking coffee at the opposite end of the counter. “He was so charmed, he didn’t know what to do with himself.”

I want to throw one of my french fries at him, but that seems too childish. Even for me. “You’re trying to flatter me so I don’t feel so mortified by what I just did, but it won’t work.”

“Piper.” The warmth he infuses in my name draws my gaze. “You’re doing everything you can to get your friend back. That’s admirable.” Beneath the counter, Mariano’s foot bumps against mine. “And it’s not true, you know. I’ve yet to have the honor of meeting Lydia, who I’m sure is very sweet. But you are too.”