Sinking onto the sofa, he pushed the demons of his past back into the caves of his soul. He’d accepted the promotion to sergeant as a sign from God to get on with his life, but … the screeching brakes, the blood on her collar stark against her porcelain skin. If only he’d chosen differently, not been blinded by the betrayal. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, shutting out the memory, the painful reminder he needed to look beyond Miss Pembroke’s pretty face and defenseless eyes.
The woman could possess more trick plays than the Pitt Panthers at Forbes Field. But soon she’d be in his arena, and he was trained at anticipating his opponent’s move. A skill gained from failure.
He leaned back, the couch cushion poking his thigh again. A loose spring? Maybe he could fix it before she came out. He lifted the cushion.
Shoes?
He bent low, examining the pair of heels which looked as though they’d been left out in the rain. Or maybe … a thunderstorm. He scrubbed his jaw, eyeing the door she’d fled behind.
Perhaps the Red Canary would fly right into his plan.
CHAPTER 5
Alone.
Vera figured this as some kind of police tactic. Leave the lady by herself in a dismal interrogation room so she could feel the pressure. Man, she was feeling something. Why was this room so hot? Another strategy? Bake her insides so the information would come spilling out.
She tugged her collar and frowned. How could lace be this constricting? Of course, she wasn’t used to being so covered. It had taken a good deal of time to find a dress with a higher neckline and lower hem. While some of the officers would appreciate her rolled-down stockings, she’d chosen the respectable look and employed the granny garter though it choked the life out of her thighs.
Looking around, she had her choice of about twenty chairs arranged around a large rectangular table almost as long as the room itself. Vera skidded back the seat closest to the exit and sank onto it. Maybe this wouldn’t take long. She’d answer a few questions, smile, and then shake Pittsburgh’s sooty dust off her heels.
But what if this was more than just a routine questioning like the sarge had said? If the badge bozos got nosy, what would she tell them? The truth? She drew in the stuffy air and released it. No. Couldn’t let them know she was there last night.
If by some slim chance these cops were honest, they wouldn’t believe her. If they were as tainted as a shot of White Mule moonshine, then the truth could land her at the bottom of the Ohio River.
The short drive to the station had her nerves tangled and raw. Though the sergeant’s voice had been silent, his sharp eyes had spoken loudly, assessing her with every glance in the rearview mirror, making her wince as if he knew something she hadn’t. She rubbed the small links of her necklace between her thumb and index finger.
The dimmed ceiling lights left the corners of the room shadowed. The edges of her mind were just as bleak and twice as dark. The entrance of His words giveth light. Oh, if she could only hear her grandmother’s feeble voice in her ears rather than in her head. The light. When they had closed her casket, the windows to Vera’s soul had locked, shutting out the light from that moment on. She was careful not to touch the festering memory long, or it would burst through her heart, bringing fresh pain.
Men’s voices split the tortuous silence. The sergeant returned, striding in with the same magnetic gait as last night. An older man, who looked more like a grandpop than a law enforcer, trailed behind him. The sergeant’s searing gaze leveled on her even as Grandpop’s—or maybe just Pops—had landed on her with a gentle appraisal.
“Hello, Miss Pembroke.” Pops extended his hand, his eyes crimped with a smile.
She eased forward for the quick handshake. Her bracelet caught on her sleeve, and her breath hitched with the blossoming idea. Her bracelet. Why didn’t she think of this before? A trip to the pawn shop could cure her financial issues. A train ticket. Lodging. All of it now within reach. A renewed determination flowed through her.
“I’m Captain Harpshire.” His grin faltered, stumbling into a frown. “Blazes, it’s warm in here.” He craned his neck, looking at the sergeant who stood by the door. “Ace, get a fan in here. This pretty young lady doesn’t need to be perspiring.” He glanced back at Vera and winked.
The sergeant dipped his finely shaped chin in acknowledgment and exited. The captain sat across from her.
“That’s the nice thing about being captain. You don’t have to get off your backside unless you want to.” He laughed. His jowls extended past a rounded chin, flapping with each chuckle, like a basset hound. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. Do you mind?”
Why ask if she had no voice in the matter? She pushed past the invisible steel grip around her throat. “Go ahead.”
“Tell me exactly your role at Carson Kelly Enterprises.” Pops schooled his features better than any poker player she knew. But she held the bluff. Would he call her on it? She didn’t have much to wager.
“Umm … what do you mean?”
His head tilted and his gaze hooked on hers. “Young lady, I think you’re too smart to play silly parlor games, and really, that’s not how I operate. So I’m just gonna cut the fluff and bring it all in the open.”
She shifted in her seat.
“To start with, I know you’re a canary at the speakeasy held secretly behind the walls of the office building. Though I wouldn’t exactly label it a secret since everyone in Pittsburgh is aware of the Kelly Club.”
She stiffened against a wince. What was the old man driving at? Was he going to arrest her for being part of that racket? She’d always been under the assumption she’d have to be caught in the act of drinking to get arrested, but now, with the suspicious tones in Pop’s voice and the niggle in her gut, she wasn’t so sure.
“Don’t knit those brows, darlin’. You aren’t in trouble for crooning in a gin joint. I need you on my side.”
The question sat like fire on her tongue, but voicing it could get her burned. She pressed her spine against the seat’s back. “Which side is that?”
His eyes registered her meaning. “The one of justice. Do you suppose you could sing me a song?”
“What would you like to hear?” The captain didn’t strike her as one who’d like to hear her rendition of “Sweet Georgia Brown.”
“Let’s see. Let’s see.” He bounced a curled knuckled on his chin. “How ’bout we start out with what you were doing at the Kelly Club last night?”
Dread sluiced her veins. “I had to work.”
“No, I mean after Mr. Kelly dropped you off. You returned, why?”
Grabbing fistfuls of leather, Vera pulled her bag into her stomach, something snapping beneath the pressure of her fingers. “W-what gives you that idea?”
The sergeant walked back into the room, a fan in hand. He placed the small metal mechanism on the table and plugged it in.
Vera angled toward it, the cool breeze kissing her face and neck.
“Anything else, sir?” The sergeant angled toward the older man.
So now he was polite. Figures.
“Stick around, Ace. I was just asking Miss Pembroke why she was at the club at the time of the murder.”