“If Luca left me with loose ends . . .” Loose ends that almost drowned Reggie. That found him in the middle of a cold warehouse. Or was he just seeing the shadow his cousin cast over everything? His heartbeat started and thrummed.
“The only loose end is me giving you his contact. Emergency contact.”
Hamish pulled the slip of paper from his pocket, studied it a moment, then looked up. “And this is where I can find him.” His heartbeat pulsed with an acceleration he wasn’t sure whether to attribute to nerves or the mention of Luca and the million and one memories that flooded in with the name.
“Don’t do anything stupid with it,” Phil said by way of farewell.
“His name is Kent! Suave’s man! You must know of him. If you talk to Luca, you have to tell him that he’s here. In Boston. If you have any contact with him, then warn him. I would, but . . .” Hamish stopped, cleared his throat. “This is not for pleasantries.” He emulated Phil’s dead voice.
Soon Hamish was stepping into the flat he shared with Nate. The light from the living room funneled into the front hall, and soft strands of music from the radio accompanied the sound of rustling papers.
Hamish yawned, sliding out of his two-toned shoes, lifting them and setting them aside.
“You’re up late,” he remarked, peeking into the sitting room where Nate sat amidst piles of papers.
Nate blinked up at him. “Well, I find myself pretty occupied these days.” He turned back to a file. “You know we’re getting closer and closer to the Revere monument!” There were few things about the Revolutionary War Nate didn’t know. “Revere’s statue will be in the Prado by the year’s end.” His eyes were incandescent. “Dallin will be there too! Make up for all the tenement housing they destroyed, huh?”
“Sounds wonderful,” Hamish said absently.
“Don’t get too serious with another dancing partner, young DeLuca. You don’t want to break her heart.”
Hamish loosened his necktie and shoved the glasses that had fallen down the slope of his nose back on their bridge. “What do you mean by that?”
“Reggie will come around, and you don’t want to hurt Bernice in the process.”
Phil’s appearance had done little to keep his mood light. “Reggie might well be with Vaughan at the moment.”
He was being flippant. He knew it wasn’t true. What was more, he shouldn’t have been short with Nate. Not only was Nate his best friend but he had been nice enough to let him live there rent free for months until money started coming in (albeit slowly) from his joint enterprise with Reggie. “So you work from here now?”
“Sometimes.”
“Any reason why?”
“Because I don’t have a dancing partner. Need something to while away my lonely bachelor hours. And Aaron Leibowitz, for once, set me only slightly agitated; he’s losing his edge.”
“Have you seen anyone around the office lately? I mean, after I’ve left or stepped out? I told you, Suave’s man Kent might be around. Kelly might have a man of his own.”
“I keep my eyes on the things I can fix. My corner of the world. Some men see in big, broad strokes. They watch the headlines. The war your country is fighting. The philosophies, however ludicrous, coming out of that war. Maybe I bring my work home because I want to keep it close to me.”
Hamish didn’t believe a word of it. Nate was giving him a small slice of a bigger picture, and his ability to tell when someone was lying to him pricked at his chest. “You can stop it. You can control it!”
“How can I stop anyone, Hamish? I just do what I can to try to get a fair deal for the people in my neighborhood.”
“You’re much more than that! You know more about the inner workings of the neighborhood than anyone else I have ever met. And I know you are lying to me, Nate—I can tell.”
“I keep a lot of secrets to help a lot of people. If these men choose to crowd our neighborhood with more crummy housing, I can’t stop it.” He exhaled. “I can just ensure that after it happens, when these poor souls are eventually taken advantage of, someone is there to help after. We’ve been through this.” Nate signaled the end of his participation in the conversation by turning back to his papers.
Hamish took the steps two at a time, his mind working at a frantic pace. For one, Nate was never disorderly. For another, Nate had said, “Why bring the office home with you, young DeLuca?” on several occasions when Nate tried to coax him away from his desk so they could take off to a Patriots game or meet up with Reggie to see a picture. He flopped back on his coverlet and removed his glasses, closed his eyes, and pinched them with his fingers. Hamish blew out a long breath and clicked on the lamp beside his bed. He removed Luca’s number from his pocket and held it up to the light. What would he do with this? What kind of emergency might he need it for, and what made Luca think Hamish would go to him under any circumstances?
He reached to his nightstand for a notebook.
Hyatt and Price
Pete Kelly
Christian Patriots
Arthur Kent
It was the last name he stuck on. A name he associated with Luca just as Hamish and Reggie investigated a new property development. Luca had been associated with men two years prior who filtered dirty money through nightclubs. It pricked at him that this could be the same type of enterprise.
Suddenly his eyes and brain hurt. He blinked the sting from his eyes and attempted to turn his brain in another direction.
Nate was right. He didn’t feel about Bernice the way he did about Reggie. He didn’t feel about anyone the way he felt about Reggie. She had popped the cork on something so long bottled inside him that he felt it all the more cleanly, clearly, and deeply than if it had slowly seeped out for years on end. He thought of their banter and chemistry and pizzazz on the dance floor, and the way they shared a laugh as if it were a secret language they’d both learned for the first time.
Hyatt and Price could gain a lot from building on such a horrible plot of land. Sure, they wanted to filter money out of slum housing. And Hamish thought it odd that he’d been seeing more signs than usual indicating new real estate associated with their firm. Or maybe he was just noticing the signs because they bore the name of a firm whose top architects included Vaughan Vanderlaan and Dirk Foster.
Kelly’s notes and map included several paragraphs about the density of the land but also the malleability and potential of erosion if they built right there on the river. They placed the housing complex right at the lip . . . not farther up where it would inevitably last longer and withstand all manner of Boston’s changeable weather. This winter, for one, had dragged on into spring, tugging it in and out with a frozen tide.
Chapter 5
Reggie telephoned Mrs. Rue the night before to say she would miss work the next morning. As most of the work she did was pro bono, she didn’t feel complete remorse for the time off. She chose an unwrinkled white dress with a matching hat and applied her makeup with a little more attention than she normally would for a weekday at the office. She even powdered the majority of the freckles from her forehead and nose. Her rose lipstick carefully applied, she fastened a gold bracelet to her wrist. If Hyatt and Price were interested in building on the property at Fiske’s Wharf, there was a chance that Dirk and Vaughan were involved, and she meant to get all of the information she could from Vaughan.
As she gripped the handrail on the trolley car for the rumble across the river, she used her free hand to leaf to the back of her Journal of Independence. It had evolved from all of the things she wanted to accomplish to double as an observational notebook. At the back, she had written everything she remembered about Luca’s disappearance. Hamish had optimistically assured her that his cousin would drive any ramifications away from him. He seemed to believe in Luca’s remorse. Reggie, on the other hand, trusted Luca as far as she could throw him and hated herself for initially thinking he was one of those tall, broad-shouldered Valentino types. She couldn’t pitch him but a foot away fro
m her.
She straightened her dress as she stepped off the trolley car and used the walk to Vaughan’s firm on Washington Street to check her appearance in the glossy reflection of the buildings. Even though so much of Boston seemed like a portal to the past, striking and modern skyscrapers and deco ornamentation interrupted centuries-old facades.
Reggie found Vaughan’s building easily, familiar with the exterior and bronze-rimmed revolving doors, having often waited for Vaughan on the outside. This time she pushed through. The firm of Hyatt and Price was announced with large gold letters under which a secretary sat far more rigidly than Reggie ever did in her own office. The secretary looked up from typing at a word count per minute Reggie envied and studied her with wide blue eyes.
“Good morning. How may I help you?”
“Miss Regina Van Buren for Mr. Vaughan Vanderlaan, please.”
The secretary raised a pencil-thin eyebrow. “Is he expecting you?”
“No. But if you could ring him, please.”
The secretary lifted the receiver and placed the request. Reggie smiled then stepped away, studying the sheen of the columns and the shine of the white tile.
A moment later she heard a chime from a nearby elevator and Vaughan appeared in a cream-colored suit and spit-shined shoes. He looked surprised but very much pleased to see her.
“I hope I didn’t get you out of an important meeting,” she said as he approached and gently took her arm.
“Is anything the matter? Your parents?”
“Everything is fine. I needed to talk to you about a few new developments involving your firm.”
Vaughan consulted his watch. “Come to my office. I have a few moments before my next appointment.” He led her to the elevators and passed the secretary. Reggie smiled but didn’t get one in return. She figured this dame was fancy on Vaughan. Most women were.
“Seventeen, please,” Vaughan said.
The bellboy ushered them in and they silently ascended several floors, sometimes repositioning themselves to allow for new riders.
“Well, well,” Reggie heard the moment she thanked the elevator boy and stepped onto Vaughan’s floor. “A reunion. And it isn’t even Regatta Day!”
“Hello, Dirk.” Reggie didn’t even try a smile. “Conveniently, I was also hoping to talk to you.”
“Me?” Dirk adjusted his tie. “Golly. Guess I better stick around then, huh?”
Reggie rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re still friends with him,” she said in an aside to Vaughan when Dirk was out of earshot.
“I’ve known him my whole life.” Vaughan stepped aside and waved for her to enter his corner office. “It’s not an easy connection to break.”
Reggie stepped through the door and into a wash of light. The sun blinked through wide windows and out over the streets below. “I love this view!” No matter how many times Reggie saw the vantage of the city from Vaughan’s office, it caught her breath. The Common and the Public Gardens spread below, the snow and slush of the icy spring slowly but surely giving way to the first signs of bloom.
Vaughan smiled and spread his arms out to highlight the sleek sofa in one corner and the black desk by the window. “I’ve done okay for myself, haven’t I, Reg?”
“I never doubted it.”
Vaughan wasn’t the kind of man who expected wealth. He wanted to earn it. She appreciated that about him. “Take a seat. Tell me why you came all the way here to see me. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I took the morning off.” Reggie smoothed her skirt under her and folded her hands in her lap. Vaughan hopped up on the edge of the desk, facing her. She was glad they didn’t have the broad space between them. “I wanted to talk to you alone. And if I told Hamish I was coming, he would want to join me. We’re looking into some property development down on Fiske’s Wharf. The current owner said that Hyatt and Price intend to build on that land.”
“Dirk and I don’t always share projects, Reg.”
“So you aren’t a part of this?”
“No. I would remember if I was asked to work in your neighborhood. Besides, you can see I am up to my ears in a project of my own.” He gestured to several rolled-up maps and spread-out blueprints. One etched in great detail on an easel to the right of the desk. “New office suites on Tremont. State of the art! I am still just a junior partner here, but I think Mr. Hyatt thinks I have potential. I honestly thought that Dirk was working it too.”
What was Dirk doing with his spare time? “Hamish is worried that we saw someone from his cousin’s old set. Which means this development could very well be a way to exploit people into purchasing housing that will make a quick buck. The land that Mr. Kelly, the owner, is on doesn’t seem fit for any type of housing at all.”
“I can’t keep Dirk from doing whatever he’s doing.”
“I know that. I just came to ask if you could keep a lookout. Hamish and I think that the trouble we ran into—”
“What trouble?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Regina.” Vaughan leaned over, arms folded.
“Hamish and I have invested a lot of time the past two years in trying to help the community there. I love it, Vaughan. It’s become home to me. If you hear anything from Dirk or anybody about what they’re planning, you have to tell me.”
“Because there’s trouble?”
“There’s a man that could be trouble. Someone involved with Luca Valari in the past. In a . . .” She stalled, hoping to find a way to relieve his obvious anxiety. “Not good way.”
“Makes me feel better,” he said.
“Vaughan.” Reggie gently touched his forearm.
“I promise to let you know. Hey! Means we’ll have to set something permanent in the books!” He winked at her as he slid off the edge of the desk and crossed to his date book. “Something in a bit of a routine, huh? So I can transfer information.”
“You’re impossible.” She smiled. “And you’re sure Dirk’s name is attached to these Tremont plans?”
Vaughan nodded and motioned for her to get up. She stepped over to the easel. At the bottom of the development plans were several names, including “D. Foster.”
“You know I wouldn’t do anything underhanded, Reg. But I also don’t want to get my childhood friend in trouble.”
“I think he does a good enough job of getting himself in trouble.” Reggie turned to the door.
“I know I’ll see you next week, but I was hoping we could see each other before then.”
“Vaughan, I don’t think we’ll need to meet that frequently to discuss— Wait. Next week?”
“Your parents. Dinner. Have you forgotten?”
Reggie blinked. She had seen a picture once where the hero remembered some things while others were locked in a little compartment. She should have remembered dinner with her parents. Her mind had another idea. “No. Of course not. Dinner. Thursday, right?”
Vaughan’s smile was incandescent. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Vaughan directed her to Dirk’s office and kindly took his leave. She thought he might stay but was happy to remember that he’d mentioned an appointment, in spite of what he had said earlier about Dirk being a hard connection to put aside. He had known him so long. Reggie didn’t want her loyalty to Vaughan seeping through when she questioned his friend.
She said good-bye to Vaughan and joined Dirk in a spacious office but without the view Vaughan’s afforded. She figured it bothered him. Dirk seemed to be pitted against Vaughan in a competition of which the latter was less than aware.
“Well, Regina, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I am looking into a property development at Fiske’s Wharf.” She took the seat Dirk offered before he retreated behind his desk.
“Oh?”
Dirk was handsome. Not to the same extent as Vaughan. Vaughan had a natural confidence that highlighted his carriage: the breadth of his shoulders, the way he filled a room. Dirk had all of the rig
ht ingredients, sure, but there was something that reeked of insecurity. She measured it more with Hamish DeLuca’s influence; Hamish could always sense inauthenticity. Something caught in his chest and started that slight shake in his right hand.
She looked up from her study to find Dirk smirking at her. “A woman with nothing to say. Regina Van Buren with nothing to say.” He emphasized every syllable of the last sentence. “Not something I am used to. You either, I imagine.”
Reggie widened her eyes to keep them from rolling to the ceiling. “Are you part of a new project in the North End?”
Dirk studied his cuticles. “North End? Gritty. Littered with immigrants. Impoverished.”
“I don’t recall your being this much of a brute when we were kids. Is it a class you took at Harvard?”
“I want to make money, Regina. There is a war. If you’ve heard. Rumor is that we might not be out of it for very much longer. I don’t want to be left dangling from a cliff when I could be safely nestled on solid ground.”
“At the expense of others?”
Dirk’s shoulders rose. “What is it they say about the survival of the fittest?”
“Dirk.”
“Come on, Reggie. Your own father would be the first person to commend me for my ingenuity.”
“Ingenuity?”
“For taking this city in stride. While you’re sniffing around playing Nick and Nora Charles with your Italian friend. The shaky one.”
Reggie balled her fists, pasted on a smile, crossed her legs. She would take him on. The shaky Italian friend was why she was here. She would share every last nugget with him later. “Vaughan said you’re working with him on a project on Tremont. But you’re also working on this other one?”
“I can work on more than one thing at the same time. There are some other men involved. They’re political affiliations of mine.”
Murder in the City of Liberty Page 6
