The girls didn’t seem reassured. Lisle looked around and saw a young man passing their table. “Got a smoke?” she asked with a brittle smile.

He was only too delighted to offer her a cigarette and light it for her. But when he made as if to sit down and join them, she turned away with a faint, “Thanks. See you later.”

Stung, he moved away, looking back once with an angry glare. Sarah imagined she saw murder in his eyes. She was becoming much too suspicious lately.

“Have you seen George? Is he here yet?” Sarah asked.

The girls shook their heads. A young man with buckteeth and freckles came over and asked Bertha to dance. She went reluctantly and only after Lisle told her to. A few minutes later another fellow came and asked Hetty to dance. Left alone with Lisle, Sarah watched her smoke the second cigarette down until it was too small to hold any longer. She ground it out with a ferocity that made Sarah wince.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Sarah tried. “Mr. Malloy won’t let you out of his sight.”

“I ain’t afraid,” Lisle snapped, her fragile face rigid with whatever emotions she was feeling. “Not of George, any-ways. He won’t hurt me. He’d of done it before now if he was going to. I just don’t like tricking him like this. And what’s that copper friend of yours going to do to him? What if he don’t know who killed Gerda?”

Before Sarah could answer, a young man approached them. He was moderately tall and solidly built with the cheerful, open face of a born salesman. If his suit was loud, it was also well made and fit him perfectly. His hair was slicked back with pomade beneath his bowler hat, and his cheeks were clean-shaven. His smile revealed strong, even teeth.

“Lisle, my darling girl, sorry I’m late. The trolley jumped the track, and I had to walk most of the way up from… Oh, hello there, miss,” he said, noticing Sarah.

“This is my friend Sarah,” Lisle said without looking at her.

“George Smith,” he said, tipping his hat. “Pleased to meet you.” His expression told her he was trying to figure out what a woman like her was doing in a place like this. With Lisle. She simply smiled serenely, trying to picture him beating a young woman to death. The picture simply would not form in her mind.

“Thank you,” she said, almost shouting to make herself heard above the music.

George pulled one of the other chairs a little closer to Lisle’s and sat down. “You look down in the mouth, kiddo. What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired of this place. Can we go somewhere else?” She didn’t sound very enthusiastic at the prospect, and George must have been a little suspicious. He glanced at Sarah as if trying to figure something out.

“Don’t worry about me,” Sarah said. “I was just leaving myself.”

“I wouldn’t want to run you off,” he said with his too friendly smile. “The night’s just starting.”

“Not for me, I’m afraid.” Sarah got up, looking at Lisle to make sure she was going to be all right. The girl’s chin rose a notch, and she met Sarah’s gaze steadily.

“You go on,” she said. “Don’t worry none about me. I’ll be fine now George is here.”

“Very nice meeting you, Mr. Smith,” Sarah said to George, who stood politely and nodded. He was still puzzled, trying to figure out who Sarah was and why she was here, but he would get no satisfaction from her.

By the time Sarah reached the relative quiet of the street outside, she felt her own tension quivering along every nerve ending. No wonder Lisle was so nervous.

She walked straight across the street, dodging the late-evening traffic, to the bar where Malloy said he would wait, giving him ample time to see her. Then she paused, looking up and down the street as if trying to decide which way to go. A moment later Malloy was at her side.

“Did you see him?”

“Yes, and I think he and Lisle will be coming out in just a moment. Where can we hide so he doesn’t see me watching for him?”

“No need to hide,” he said, taking her arm and guiding her to the next building. He put her back against it and stood in front of her, facing her, as if they were enjoying a very private conversation. He put his arm up, bracing his hand against the wall beside her head so her face would be shielded from anyone coming from the direction of the dance hall.

She looked up at Malloy, his face only inches from hers. She could see the tiny hairs where his beard was starting to grow. How odd she’d never noticed before but his eyes weren’t solid brown. They had gold flecks in them.

“Do you see them yet?” he asked. His voice sounded a little hoarse. Or maybe she was just being fanciful.

Obediently, she glanced under his arm. People were going into the hall, a group of young men who had obviously been drinking. They were laughing and shoving each other playfully as they unsteadily climbed the steps. Seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness. Sarah was very aware of Malloy. The evening was warm, but it had grown considerably warmer in the past few minutes.

Sarah tried to draw a breath and found her lungs didn’t want to cooperate. Just when she thought she would have to duck under Malloy’s arm and flee or lose her sanity, she saw them.

“There they are!” she cried with as much relief as triumph.

MALLOY GLANCED OVER HIS SHOULDER AND saw a man and a woman-well, a girl, actually-coming down the steps. The girl was small and slender, her hair blond under the oversized hat she wore. The man was dressed the way he’d seen countless salesmen dressed, in a suit tailored more for flash than for style. Apparently, salesmen thought they had to make an indelible impression on people, even if the impression was one of tawdriness.

The fellow had the girl’s hand tucked into the crook of his arm, and they turned in the opposite direction from where he and Mrs. Brandt were standing. He should give them a minute to get a start. If he followed them right off, it would look suspicious.

He could hear Mrs. Brandt breathing. Her breath came quickly. Probably she was frightened. This sort of thing wasn’t something a midwife usually did in the course of her work. Maybe she was even worried some harm might come to the girl. It was possible, he supposed, but not very likely, not with Frank on his tail.

Frank could feel her breath on his cheek. He could feel the sweat forming all over his body. The night was warm, but not that warm. He was just standing too close to Mrs. Brandt was all. He’d fix that in a minute. There, they were turning the comer.

“Come on,” he said, pushing himself away from the wall with a sense of relief. Action, that’s what he needed. Anything to distract him from thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking.

He didn’t wait to see if she was coming. She’d be with him every step of the way. He knew he’d probably have to force her to leave when they caught up with George, too. She’d want to hear everything he had to say. Well, he’d deal with that, too.

He started down the sidewalk in the direction they had gone, watching the traffic for a break so they could cross and follow the other couple. Unconsciously, he reached for her arm, clasping it tightly so she would be with him when he saw an opportunity to cross. It came unexpectedly, a break between two wagons, and he fairly dragged her across the street, just barely missing a pile of horse manure.

She was sputtering a little, but he ignored that. He let go of her arm, and by then they were at the comer. He could see the couple walking up ahead, heading downtown. The girl was still clinging to his arm. Was she looking back? Damn her, she’d tip him off that they were being followed!

No, wait, she was just talking to him. He was leaning down to hear her better. She was pointing, and he reacted in some surprise, but he followed her lead. They disappeared into an alley.