The Lost Girl of Astor Street(85)

“No, I wouldn’t even ask it of you.”

I wrap the bandage over my stocking. Who am I going to call? Tim would ask too many questions. Walter left for California on Sunday. Not only that, but I have the Ford, and Nick and Alana likely left the house with the Chrysler. Jeremiah? That could get Emma in hot water at home . . .

I wince. Mariano is the only person who won’t be irate with me when he learns the truth. Who might even help me figure out what Robbie Thomas is up to.

“Can I dial a number for you?” Robbie asks.

Robbie’s telephone hangs on the kitchen wall, a strange fixture in this apartment of no frills.

“No, I can manage, thank you.”

Robbie moves to the kitchen, tidying a space that looks perfectly fine in an effort to provide me privacy as I spin the dial.

“Hello?” The male voice that answers at Mariano’s apartment is unfamiliar.

“I’m calling for Mariano.”

“He’s at some dame’s house.”

“Oh.” My gut clenches—Zola’s? “What time do you expect him home?”

“I dunno. Late? Who is this?”

I hang up, my face hot and my heart hammering a painful beat. So Mariano’s at a girl’s house. That’s fine. I’ve been ignoring him, after all. I take a deep breath as I lift the receiver to my ear once more. Maybe Nick and Alana are still at home. It’s better, really, to call them. I certainly don’t need to give Mariano the impression that I need him.

“Sail residence.” Joyce’s voice is crisp over the phone.

“Hi, it’s Piper.”

“Where are you calling from? Is everything all right?”

“Is Nick around?”

“No, dear. He and Miss Kirkwood left about ten minutes ago.”

Blast. It’ll have to be Jeremiah. I really hope this doesn’t make life difficult for Emma.

“But Detective Cassano is here, if you’d like to speak with him.”

My eyes fly open and my heart soars. “Mariano is there?”

“He’s been sitting on the front porch the better part of an hour. Would you like to speak with him?”

Me. He’s there for me. “Please.”

I catch myself standing with weight on my supposedly hurt leg. Fortunately, Robbie is still in the kitchen, his back to me.

“Hi.” Mariano’s voice has a tenderness to it.

“I tried your apartment first, but you weren’t there.”

“No, I came here after work. Joyce said you were out with Emma, but would be back before too long.”

“Yes, that was the plan.” I swallow and try to infuse hysteria into my voice. “But then Mae and her sister went off with these terrible johnnies, and I refused to go with them.”

“Piper . . . what’s going on? Who are you with? You’re not in the North again, are you?”

I swallow. Um . . . “But fortunately I bumped into someone. You know my good friend Miss Crane?”

“The longer you talk, the more nervous I get.”

“Well, her boyfriend happened to be on his way to work—”

“I bet.”

“—and when he found me limping, he was good enough to bring me up to his apartment so I could ring for someone to come pick me up.”

“I thought you had a car with you. That’s what Joyce said.”

“I know, wasn’t it fortunate? Downright providential, I say.”

“Good grief, Piper. So you need me to come get you?”

“Quickly please. He needs to get to work, but he’s being a gentleman and insisting he wait with me until someone comes.”

“You still have the car though, correct?”

“Yes, I do.” I pull the mouth piece away from my mouth. “Robbie, what’s your street address please? My friend is on his way to come get me.”

“703 W. Schubert. Right on the corner of Orchard. We can wait downstairs, if he likes.”

“Mariano, the address is 703 W. Schubert, and we’ll be waiting in the lobby.” There’s silence on the other end. “Mariano?”

“What are you thinking, Piper Sail?” Mariano’s voice is coarse. “Do you realize where you are?”

My laugh rings hollow. “It’s not like I planned this, Mariano.”

“That’s the same block Patrick Finnegan lives on. If they were to realize who you are . . . I’m coming. I’m coming now. Just stay there.”

The line goes silent. I swallow hard. “I know it’s an inconvenience, but I do so appreciate it. Thank you. Good-bye.”

The Finnegans. Yet again.

“So your friend is on his way?”

“Yes.” I make myself smile at Robbie. Is he associated with them? “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Robbie.”

Together, we walk and fake-hobble down to the front door to wait for Mariano. I’m dying to check the Ford for Emma, but it’s parked just out of view.

My gaze drifts to where I know Robbie’s gun is holstered. All of this cannot possibly be a coincidence, can it? His secrecy about his job, the unmarked door from earlier, where he lives, and that he carries a gun?

I have to stop dwelling on it, or I’ll be too nervous for the rest of our time together. That certainly won’t help Emma and me get answers. “If you need to go to work, I’m sure my friend will be here soon.”