“Do you know the name of the man she was out with last night?” Louise asked. She concentrated on breathing: deep breath in, hold for five seconds, and release.

  “Philip something,” Eugene said.

  “Philip . . . Where did they go?” Louise asked.

  She couldn’t fight the panic’s cold fingers on her lungs and heart. Rafael disappeared for a moment, then returned with Rosa Maria’s social calendar. Louise took it. She adored the fact that Rosa Maria was a busy enough woman to keep a social calendar; Rosa Maria had always been more social than Louise had been. It was something that had originally endeared Rosa Maria to her.

  “There is no need to panic. Louise will find her. She’ll be fine. She always is,” Eugene was saying quietly.

  He had wrapped Rafael in his rather large wingspan, holding him close. Louise averted her eyes, as if she wasn’t meant to see this tender moment.

  She flicked through the pages until she found April. She read through Rosa Maria’s diary of lunches, job interviews, and other plans. And then she came across Philip—The Black Cat with a phone number. Louise breathed a sigh of relief. She knew where that was. It was a quasi speakeasy in Harlem that had sprouted up in the shuttered Maggie’s Café. Maggie Lister had decided to retire, letting her grandson, Frank, transform the place.

  “I’m going to sort this out. Stay here in case she calls or comes back. Check out that phone number. I will sort this out,” Louise promised.

  She exited the apartment, closing the door behind her. She should have known that some promises were impossible to keep.

  * * *

  • • •

  IT WAS QUICKER to take the train than to drive in the city. She left Mr. Norris and the Ford back in Bed-Stuy as she raced down the street, barreling past people trying to enjoy their morning. She knew that this had to be Harriet. This had to be something she was cooking up.

  The train ride seemed to take an hour longer than it should have. Louise sat still, keeping her eyes on the window as she moved toward the destination.

  When she got to the Black Cat, a place that advertised itself as a restaurant, totally on the up-and-up, the police were waiting there for her. Detective Martin was dressed cleanly and he could not keep the smug look off of his face.

  “Miss Lloyd. We meet again.”

  “How did you know I would be here?” Louise asked.

  “Good guess.” Martin’s face was totally unreadable.

  “I want a lawyer,” Louise said.

  She didn’t know if she would be allowed to have one. She didn’t really know her rights.

  “Too bad.” Martin lit a cigarette. “We are going to stay here until you tell me everything.”

  “Then we’re going to be here a long time,” Louise said. “I’ve already told you everything I know.”

  She was eager to see if he could be as patient as she was. She doubted it; he had never had to dress squalling twins who wanted to match but didn’t want to match.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. The idea was not to speak first. She kept her eyes trained on his, saying nothing, keeping her face still and stony. She knew that he could play this little game too, but she was better at it, as she was at most things.

  “We can do this all day,” Martin said.

  “If you’re not arresting me, I want to go.” For all of Louise’s bravado, her mouth had gone dry, making it hard to talk.

  “You can’t always get what you want,” Martin said. “Now tell me.”

  His voice had gone dangerously cold. She had played him too much. He could kill her in front of this place, in broad daylight, and he would get away scot-free. The crushing realization that she had made a mistake flooded over her.

  She swallowed hard.

  What could she do?

  Louise exhaled. She would be wrong no matter what she said. “I didn’t kill Nora Davies. Rosa Maria Moreno did not kill Nora Davies. I believe I know who did.”

  “Who?”

  “Detective.”

  A young officer pulled Martin’s attention away. They had a quick conversation Louise couldn’t quite hear. She leaned forward to glean anything she could from the conversation.

  “Fine,” Martin said, and turned toward her. “You are free to go, Miss Lloyd. But one more thing. Who do you think killed Nora Davies?”

  Should she spill it? Should she tell him and have him laugh at her? She weighed the options as quickly as she could, trying to see into the future for both answers. She settled into a smile that didn’t tell him anything.

  “I suppose you’ll have to do your job.”

  38

  LOUISE RAN INTO Harriet a couple of blocks from the Black Cat. To her surprise, Harriet had a car.

  “I want to show you something,” Harriet said.

  The car was a slick red Ford Model T. Louise had never learned to drive, never needed to, but seeing that car made her want to learn.

  “Get in.” Harriet opened the passenger door for her.

  Louise knew that this was risky, letting Harriet take her somewhere. She shouldn’t get into the car; she should run, get help.

  But this was her only chance at finding Rosa Maria.

  And that was a risk she had to take. Louise climbed into the passenger seat.

  Harriet was gripping the steering wheel with gorgeous leather gloves. “Got yourself into some trouble, dear?” she asked as she took off.

  “Just a spot,” Louise said.

  Harriet drove at a pace that was dangerous and uncomfortable. She had no care for anyone else on the road as they sped away from the city.

  “I thought we could take a lunch, talk about the story you want me to write,” Harriet said.

  She almost had to yell over the spring wind whipping through the car. Louise had never been in a convertible and she decided that this was not a particularly fun experience. That and her life was in the hands of a murderer. If the car crashed, Louise would be dead.

  “Sounds lovely,” Louise said. She had to keep it together. “I can’t wait.”

  “I’m taking you to this darling little place I know,” Harriet said. “You have been so hard to find lately. I’m glad we can do this.”

  Louise kept a smile on her face, trying to pretend to be excited. “Me too,” she said. “It’ll be nice to get away.”

  “Oh, lovely,” Harriet said, turning her eyes to Louise while maintaining her breakneck pace. “It will be to die for.”

  Louise was not expecting the house they arrived at to be their destination. It was modest, three floors, one of many like it on its street. Harriet parked the car and Louise felt her stomach shift back into position. The drive had been nearly deadly.

  “Coming?” Harriet asked. “I want to show you something.”

  Harriet got out of the car. She was again immaculately dressed, in a dress and a coat of petal pink with a black hat and black shoes.

  Louise did as she was told, trying to figure out where she was. There was something about this quaint little neighborhood that seemed so familiar to her. She looked around as Harriet marched toward the front door.

  “Louise, come on!”

  Louise had to get a message to Rafael. That was the only thing on her mind as she followed Harriet into the house. She had to save Rosa Maria. She was following a killer into the belly of the beast.

  “So,” Harriet said, “this house has been in my family forever.”

  The house hadn’t been updated for decades. Louise followed her inside, watching as Harriet took off her coat, then tossed it to the floor. The only sound in the house was the click of their heels on the hardwood.

  “I haven’t visited in a while, you know? Things just got busy, but I thought we could have a picnic in the backyard while we talked. And you can tell me why you were arrested.”

  Louise turned, looking out the window. The streets were silent around them. She blinked up at the moody afternoon sky.

  “Are you okay?” Harriet asked.

  Every fiber of her being was telling her to get out, to leave, that nothing good would happen if she stayed. But she ignored her gut instinct and turned to Harriet.

  “Of course,” she said with a smile. “I just have to iron my shoelaces.”

  “Upstairs,” Harriet said.

  Louise knew that she shouldn’t leave Harriet alone, but Louise headed up the stairs, gripping tightly to the wooden banister.

  * * *

  • • •

  THE UPSTAIRS WAS dark, a shocking contrast to the sunny lower floor. She found the bathroom, bypassed it, and went into what seemed to be a bedroom. She was looking for a phone; she needed to find a phone. She closed the door behind her and shoved an old trunk in front of it so it couldn’t open. The air was musty in the bedroom. There was no bed, although there was an outline of one in the rug on the floor. Louise took off her shoes and held them in one hand so she didn’t make any noise. She knew that she was at a disadvantage in this place. There was an old wardrobe and a desk. There was a phone on the desk. Louise picked it up and heard nothing. The phone was dead. She was trapped.

  She opened the wardrobe. It was empty, save for scraps of letters someone must have forgotten to throw out when they cleaned. Louise kneeled down, putting her shoes on the floor. Louise recognized, in the faded ink, Theodore Gilbert’s writing. Louise looked over her shoulder, getting the sense that someone was watching her.

  She was not getting anywhere new. She didn’t know where she was. All she could really say was that she was outside the city, in the suburbs. Louise knew she should run. She removed the trunk from in front of the door and stepped out. She did go into the bathroom, and ran the water in the sink for a moment. She put her shoes back on and descended the stairs. She could hear Harriet humming in the kitchen.

  Her heart was in her throat. What had she gotten herself into? What had she done? Why hadn’t she asked for help when she needed it? Her stomach was in knots and her thoughts were racing.

  Harriett had procured an apron and had put it on over her dress. She had poured two glasses of what Louise thought was gin.

  “Come on in. I just need to finish something up.” Harriet never lost her cheery tone, as if this were just a normal day among friends. “It is so nice to be out of the city, isn’t it? I love it there, but sometimes it can be so stifling. I really am glad you’re here.”

  If Harriet noticed that Louise wasn’t saying anything, she didn’t mention it. Harriet took a sip from her glass. Louise didn’t touch hers. Harriet narrowed her eyes. Louise forced a smile on her face. She pretended to take a sip from her glass. She was sure it was drugged, and she was never going to let anyone drug her again.

  There was no way Harriet was this stupid. She must have known Louise was onto her. Louise put the glass down.

  “You know, I was thinking: it was so lucky we met when we did. If you hadn’t shown up right then, who knows what that man would have done to me?” Louise was wondering if their first meeting had been engineered. There was nothing that Harriet would leave to chance.

  Harriet smiled. She leaned on the countertop. “Who knew that Louise Lloyd would be my first friend in the city?” She was doing a very good job of keeping up this charade.

  “Where are you from?” Louise asked.

  Harriet frowned, her face darkening for just a moment. “I thought I told you.”

  “No,” Louise said. “In fact, you’ve never told me anything about yourself. If you have any siblings, maybe?”

  “None. I had a brother who died in the war.”

  Harriet turned away from her. Louise took a step away from the counter.

  Another opportunity. Louise could run, sprint to the next house, ask for help, and call Rafael. But she was rooted to the spot. She had to follow her first instinct and find Rosa Maria. Harriet turned back around.

  “I had another brother,” she said. Louise realized Harriet was on the verge of tears. “And I loved him. He was my best friend, my hero. All I wanted was to come here and spend time with my brother.”

  She stepped toward Louise. Louise took another small step back. She could see the rage in Harriet’s eyes; she could see the hatred. Louise took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Harriet swung at her. Louise moved before the other woman could make impact. Harriet grabbed Louise; she was quite strong for a woman of her stature, willowy thin. She grabbed a cloth from the counter and pressed it to Louise’s face.

  Louise fought. She tried, but she was no match for the world going black around her.

  39

  A HEAVY SENSE OF déjà vu settled over Louise as she opened her eyes. She was sitting on a chair, wrists bound behind her and ankles bound below her, raw rope digging into her skin and stockings. Her heart began to beat fast. It was dark and a little warmer than it had been, but she knew this place.

  This was the exact cellar she had woken up in over a decade ago.

  Her head throbbed. Her mouth filled with saliva. She wasn’t alone.

  “Louise.”

  It was Rosa Maria. Louise would have recognized her voice anywhere. Their backs were together, and if Louise twisted her wrist, they could just very gently brush fingertips.

  “Are you okay?” Rosa Maria asked.

  “I’m okay.” Louise could feel tears welling up in her eyes. “How are you?”

  “Been better,” Rosa Maria deadpanned.

  “Do you know how you got here?” Louise asked.

  “I don’t know.” Rosa Maria was breathless. “I just went out with this man Philip, and I—”

  “I think I know who he is,” Louise said. “He’s the one who took the photos of us that were in the Tribune. He works for Harriet. You were set up.”

  She felt the tips of Rosa Maria’s fingers grasp hers. The subtle touch calmed her down. She had to keep her senses. She had to keep her nerve. She had broken out of here before. She knew that she could do it again.

  “I know who drugged us, I know who killed Nora, and I know who set us all up.” She should have seen this coming from a mile away. “When you didn’t come home last night, I knew I had to act. I am so sorry. I should have known better.”

  Rosa Maria didn’t say anything. She was crying, quiet little sobs that shook her shoulders. “Why didn’t she just kill me? How are we going to get out of here?”

  “I’m gonna get us free. Just stay still.”

  Louise closed her eyes, trying to figure out how to undo the knot without seeing it. It was akin to picking a lock. She took a deep breath. Her only goal was to get them out of there.

  That place had haunted her nightmares for years on end. She couldn’t count the times she had woken up in a cold sweat, convinced that she was going to be taken again, that this basement was where she was going to die.

  But she wasn’t going to focus on that. Louise was going to focus only on what she could do right now.

  “Rosa Maria, if we don’t get out of this, I need you to know I didn’t plan any of this.” The words fell from her lips as she struggled with the complicated knot. “I love you so much. I am so, so sorry.”

  “Louise, just concentrate.”

  Classic Rosa Maria. And she was right. Louise opened one eye. She was facing the wall with the small window. Light filtered through it, the dark and duskiness of the evening. Her hands were going numb and it was harder and harder to move her fingers.

  “What if we don’t make it out of here?” Rosa Maria asked.

  Louise’s fingers slipped over the rope. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

  “I’m going to untie us, and then we will figure it out.”

  Easier said than done when Louise couldn’t even begin to undo the knots; then she had to contend with her ankle bindings as well. One thing at a time. She could do that. One thing at a time, and then they could focus on getting out of there.

  Louise considered that another Gilbert sibling might have to die at her hands. How many times would she have to take someone’s life? Would this make her a murderer? She didn’t want to do it. She didn’t have her gun on her. Foolishly, she had left it at the Schoonmaker manse.

  “I tried to call Rafael and Eugene. The phone here is disconnected, but I’ll get you free. I’ll distract her and you run for help, okay?” Talking through a plan always helped Louise make sense of everything.

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Rosa Maria, you have to. If there is any chance of either of us getting out of here alive, you have to.”

  Louise could barely breathe. She was losing feeling in her fingers. She stretched them out, trying to wake them up.

  “I am not leaving without you,” Rosa Maria repeated.

  “I love you so much.”

  What wouldn’t she give to kiss Rosa Maria one more time, feel her body against her own as their heartbeats synchronized? Louise could picture their life together: growing old, celebrating birthdays and holidays and anniversaries together. She wanted to be there for the publication of Rosa Maria’s first book. She wanted to be there when the world realized what she already knew: Rosa Maria was a force to be reckoned with. Louise blinked back tears. She couldn’t get emotional now.

  “You have to do this. For us. Okay? I’ll distract her. You run. We can take her.”

  “Okay,” Rosa Maria said.

  Louise moved to grasp Rosa Maria’s fingers in hers. Then she continued fiddling with the knot. She could feel it starting to loosen.

  “What about you?” Rosa Maria asked.

  “Don’t worry about me. Go get help.” Louise tried to keep her breathing even as she worked on the rope that bound them. “This house is at the end of the street. You’ll have to go to your left when you exit. Run and keep knocking until you find someone who will let you in, okay?”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24