The Lost Girl of Astor Street(83)

“I’ll make do.” Emma glances out her window at the sidewalk. “Is it safe?”

Much like the evening I dragged Walter to John Barleycorn, the sidewalks are crowded with hand-holding couples and groups of men and women dressed to flirt.

“We’re not on Astor Street, to be sure.” I bite my lower lip. “But, really, where is it safe in Chicago anymore?”

Emma’s face broadcasts her fear, but she climbs out of the Ford anyway. She cranes her neck for a glimpse of Robbie on the opposite sidewalk. “We’re going to lose him.”

“No, we’re not. Just be patient.” I wrap Sidekick’s lead around my palm several times. When Robbie is far enough down the sidewalk that I don’t think he’d recognize Emma at a glance, I say, “Okay, let’s go.”

As we walk, Emma’s gaze is locked on Robbie. She’s not even watching what’s ahead of her. “Emma, try to look more casual. Don’t look right at him.”

“Oh. Okay.” She directs her gaze ahead of us. “Like this?”

“Much better. Just glance at him through your peripherals.”

“It’s rather hard to spot him like this. He looks like all the other men.”

So I’ve observed. It’s unnerving when I dwell on the kinds of professions where that ability to blend in, to be impossible to describe to the police, would be an asset.

Robbie stops at an unmarked door between a dress shop and a church. He knocks.

“Oh, look at these flowers over here, Emma.” I pull her toward a flower box by a store window.

“Very pretty.” Emma’s words are polite but laced with impatience. “What are you doing? We’re going to lose him.”

“He’s stopped too. See?”

Emma turns in time to see Robbie step inside the door on which he’d knocked. “What’s that place?”

“No sign. Gin joint, maybe? Maybe he works there? Maybe he didn’t want to tell you because he thought you’d disapprove?”

Emma’s frown deepens. “I don’t like the idea, certainly. But why would it be better to tell me in a few months? Now’s as bad a time as any to learn your boyfriend’s profession is illegal.”

“You ladies lost?”

A man who’s likely a decade older than us stands there, a cigarette smoldering between his lips. The cut of his suit is fashionable enough, though the sleeves are too long for tailor-made.

“No, sir, but thank you.” Emma’s voice rings appreciative, like she truly thinks this stranger is being kind to have checked on us.

“Where you girls headed tonight?” He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and holds it between his fingers. “My buddies and me, we want to hit the joint with the prettiest ladies.”

Emma flushes.

“We’re just taking our dog for a walk.” Sidekick stands between me and the man, and I pat his head. “If we don’t walk him often enough, he’s prone to biting. And it’s been a couple days.”

The man’s eyebrows arch. “Doesn’t look like you’re doing too much walking.”

“We had only stopped to admire the flowers, and now we’ll be on our way, sir. Thank you.” I loop my arm through Emma’s and carry on. “Infuriating man. Let’s walk up to the corner. Hopefully, Robbie will come out soon.”

“Yes, I hope so.” Emma’s words are breathy. “I don’t care for strange men talking to us on the sidewalk.”

“We’re fine. We have Sidekick. And I have a knife.”

Emma’s feet stop moving. She turns to me with wide eyes, a dropped jaw. “You have a knife?”

“Keep your voice down. And, yes, just in case.”

“How do you know how to do this?” Emma’s gaze is admiring, and it creates an itchy discomfort in my chest.

I urge her farther down the street, to the other side of a street lamp. “What do you mean?”

“How do you know to watch someone across the street from your peripherals? To bring a knife? You didn’t learn this at Presley’s.”

“No, I didn’t.” I glance at the door—still no Robbie. “I don’t know, really.”

“Did Mariano teach you?”

Just the sound of his name makes me flinch. “No.”

“That Mariano is one good-looking fellow.” Emma makes a show of fanning herself. “I told Jeremiah that, and I thought he might pummel me. As much as I like the idea of you and my brother—”

“The door’s opening.” And not a second too soon.

Robbie emerges, briefcase still in hand. Hmm.

“What does it mean that he’s leaving? Does it mean he doesn’t work there?” Emma’s voice lifts with hope.

“He’s crossing this way.” I tighten my hold on Sidekick’s leash. “We gotta move.”

We hustle down the sidewalk, and I resist the urge to check over my shoulder.

“Should we duck into a store?” Emma huffs between breaths.

“That’s tough with Sidekick.” An idea sparks in my mind. “But I’ve got an idea. You go in to this store, and I’ll stay here.”

“But, Piper, he’ll see you!”

“We’re running out of time, and I can’t explain. Go into the drugstore, wait until we’ve gone, and then go back to the Ford. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”