Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties #2)(29)

“Hadley,” he pleaded. He thought of Adam and Stella. Thought of his debt to Monk.

A cool wind ruffled her hair as she turned to face him, clutching her coat closed. “Tell me and you have my solemn oath that I won’t run to my father and tattle. I can keep a secret.”

“Give me your word, and I also want to know how you ripped out the chandelier.”

“I can’t do that.” He almost said “no deal,” but she added, “I barely know you.”

Not an “I will never tell you” or “go to hell.” No, not that. Perhaps his translation of her words was merely wishful thinking, but in his glass-half-full mind, she was saying, “I might tell you once I get to know you better.”

Only a chance, yes, but one he wanted. Not more than her father’s money, of course. But after the stunt the old man pulled at the dinner, Lowe felt more certain he’d get it. Because no way in hell did Dr. Bacall want Lowe to have that job. He only announced it after Lowe requested something “tangible” before dinner, and Bacall wasn’t thickheaded. He damn well knew Lowe wanted money. But the job offer was a better move—for Dr. Bacall, that is. Without spending a dime, the offer kept Lowe tied to Bacall in a very public way. The old man might as well have pissed on his leg.

Bacall wanted the amulet crossbars very, very badly, and he was giving everything he had to Lowe in order to get them. Which put Lowe in the excellent position of being needed.

So, yes, Lowe felt more confident about Bacall paying out. He wasn’t too worried that telling Hadley would mess that up for him. But something else was urging Lowe to tell her.

He remembered back to when Volstead passed, and his own father had thrown every chip on the table to trade fishing for bootlegging. From the beginning, Lowe had been disinterested in helping his father, while Winter enjoyed it—was good at it. And Pappa had groomed Winter to take over. If Pappa was still alive and retiring, and if he’d handed the reigns to someone else without telling Winter first . . . well, that wouldn’t ever happen. Because Lowe’s father would never have done that to one of his children.

Never.

Thinking of all this made Lowe a little angry on Hadley’s behalf. Bacall truly had screwed her over. So because Lowe was softhearted—and maybe because he wanted to improve his chances of making his way up Hadley’s skirt—he finally relented.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll tell you, but only on your word that you won’t tell your father.”

“I promise,” she said as they walked together into the wind. “Let’s hear it.”

“The short story is that your father knows the approximate location of the remaining pieces of the djed amulet, and he wants me to find them and sell the base to him.”

She made a low noise of surprise, but her stride didn’t falter. “And the long story?”

“The long story is this . . .”

With her gaze trained to the sidewalk in front of them, she listened intently until he got to the part about calling up her mother’s spirit. “Pardon?”

“My brother’s new wife is a spirit medium—you met her at the train station. Apparently she can call up spirits of the dead and channel them long enough for their loved ones to find out where the family jewels are hidden. Or, in this case, a treasure map. And all that’s needed to establish a connection is an object owned by the deceased.”

Hadley lifted her coat sleeve to reveal her diamond bracelet. “Like this?”

“I suppose. Were you close to your mother? Would it bother you to speak with her again, as it were?”

“I was eight when she died and never really spent a lot of time with her.” She shrugged. “I was closer to my nanny, if you want to know the truth.”

A little sad. Lowe had beautiful memories of his mother. He still missed her.

He stopped in front of his house. Winter’s red and black limousine wasn’t in the driveway. He’d mentioned running out to oversee some big delivery at a hotel. Which meant he wasn’t home, but with any luck, Aida was.

“What do you say? Are you curious?”

Hadley’s head tilted to survey the Magnussons’ gray green Queen Anne. Not the marble Flood mansion, not reputable, not society-approved, but easily the most expensive house on the block. And it must’ve been impressive enough to meet Hadley’s standards, because she turned to him with a sly little smile and said, “Lead the way.”

• • •

“Winter will bite my head off if he knows I’m channeling. He’s worried the baby will be born with multiple souls,” Aida joked as she closed the door. “So we’d better make it fast. He’ll be back in an hour. A fisherman’s day is never done.” She winked and sat down on an antique Arabian chair across from Lowe and Hadley. An enormous brindled mastiff—Aida’s dog, Sam, who was big as a small horse and blind in one eye—curled up around her feet.

The main floor parlor had been dubbed the Sheik Room by his baby sister. It was his mother’s favorite space, and she’d had most of the furniture shipped from overseas. Lowe watched Hadley’s gaze darting around the Arabian decor. She perched on the edge of the sofa with her back so straight, she might’ve been balancing an invisible book on her head. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked.