Chapter Thirty
I cannot sleep. I sit on my bed and stare straight ahead, sick to my stomach and trying to think clear.
Today, I did the stupidest thing I could have done.
Mr. Carboni was the first one the police took to the station to talk about Mrs. Evans.
No one’s surprised, since the two were always at each other.
Besides, Mr. Carboni is, well, he’s Mr. Carboni, isn’t he?
When he was gone, I went to clean his suite.
I breathe easier when he’s not there. But then I went and made everything worse.
The nightstand drawer opened easy enough, and my hand didn’t shake a bit. What’s that say about myself and my character? Am I becoming a criminal?
There was no gun, but the book lay there like it waited for me.
I carried it to the window so the sunlight lit the pages.
My heart quickened, seeing that the pages looked very different from the last time I looked.
Almost every item on his list was crossed out.
Sure, and a few disturbing things had been added.
RUSSO
200 WARD PKR
MORETTI
XX
BAUER
TUNN KEY
TONY?
* GRAYSON
$1,500 DOM PKR
MORETTI
XX
WALLY
DISCUSS NOV
FIORE
ON SITE SUPPLIER INTERFERENCE
O’LEARY
$150 WARD POKER
MORETTI
X
MURPHY
DOCKS WHISKY - 10%? 8%
SERGIO
GIRLS TOO
DUFFY
ON-SITE 20 WORKERS IRISH $?
WARD
COURIER LIGHT
EVANS
HOTEL INTERFERENCE X
OCTOBER:
IN:
LIQUIDATE HOLDINGS CRESCENT STEEL CORP.
— $35,000
CANCEL QUEBEC ORDER
— $900 (OCT 12)
LIQUIDATE ACCOUNT C. brOKERAGE
— $50,000
UNITED RAILWAYS (SHORT)
— $20,000
LIQUIDATE DOM SUB CONTENTS
— $2,200
COLLECT DEBT REYNOLDS
— $1,500
W/O “BAD DEBT”
— S. PORTER (DECEASED)
B. FIORE
ENTERTAINMENT NOV? $2,000
OUT:
WALKER & SONS DRY GOODS
— $8,500 (INITIATED OCT 12)
INTEREST PAYMENT M. CALDERONE
— $4,000 (OCT 11)
P. RUSSO
— CLEAN QUEEN ST. (OCT 13)
SLOAN (INSPECTOR)
— $2,000
SECURE QUEEN STREET WH
— $11,000
H. GREEN FOR DISCRETION
— $3,500
DOM SUB
— $10,000 APPROVE BID
EMERG FUND
— $10,000
MARKET W/D TRANSFER TO CASH RESERVES
— $75,000
J. BATES CLEAN
— $1,000
COURIER D.W.
— $100
P/O BARREL APT
— $6,000
SECURE EDWARD STREET WH
— $8,000
OTHER:
RELOCATE SAFETY-DEPOSIT CONTENTS TO MONTREAL brANCH
FILE GRIEVANCE: EVANS
DISCUSS WALLY: EVANS
HALT COMMUNICATIONS WITH TSK
SOLVE: EVANS
COURIER SKIMMING — DW? WITH ROSIE?
’Twas no surprise to me that he suspected Damien of skimming.
I did, too. He never showed me a penny, but more than once he’d said he could slide money around like smoke.
I suspected he was doing it even more now, partly for the baby, and partly because Mr. Carboni had needed more help of late.
Seeing him on this list, I knew I had to tell him he’s in danger. I mustn’t keep it a secret any longer.
It felt quare, seeing my name there, spelled out plain as could be in Mr. Carboni’s ugly scrawl.
He suspected something between Damien and me.
What business was it of his if Damien and I were together?
Mind, why should I pretend not to know the answer?
Simple: Mr. Carboni had wanted me since the start.
Sure, and I’d said no to him, so he got jealous of Damien.
That was a very bad thing. There’s no telling what Mr. Carboni might do.
Then there’s Bianca, with the filthy word entertainment by her name. I near retched. My poor, foolish Bianca.
As much as I feared for Damien, Bianca, and myself, I’ll tell you, the most frightening was seeing “Solve: Evans” over mine.
It was crossed out.
I flipped back a few pages, leaning toward the window for better light, then I froze.
The door to the suite had opened, and the floor beneath me dropped like the elevator.
Saints above, ’twas Mr. Carboni, clearing his throat.
Surely the police couldn’t be done with him so quick.
Seemed barely enough time for a cup of tea.
I held my breath, listening close, but ’twas him no question.
The floorboards creaked under those shiny shoes as he drew closer to the bedroom.
But I, fool that I was, was standing near a half mile from the nightstand, wasn’t I, with the lovely sunshine lighting up all the man’s secret notes.
The book felt like a hot brick in my hands.
Trouble was, I was standing too far from the nightstand to put it back where it belonged.
So what did I do? God help me, I did the only thing that came to mind: I dropped the bloody thing down the front of my uniform and prayed it stayed hid.
“Rosie!” he exclaimed when he entered.
“Mr. Carboni!” I replied, making out like I was surprised. Faith, he’d no idea how surprised. Keeping one arm snug to the hidden book, I did all I could to not sound or look dodgy, which probably made me seem more suspicious, but I didn’t know what else to do.
“I’m sorry, sir. I thought this would be a good time to clean your room. I was just starting in here, then the washroom, then I will be out of your way. Or I could come back later. Whatever you’d prefer, sir.”
“Seems like perfect timing to me. How about I sit here while you clean? I like to watch you.”
Suddenly I was so hot and bothered I wouldn’t be surprised to see smoke come from my head. “Oh, no, Mr. Carboni. That wouldn’t be right. I—”
He blocked me when I stepped in the direction of the door, and I stopped short.
All I could think was if he grabbed me and felt the outline of the book on my body, he’d kill me for sure.
From the dark twinkle in his eyes, I could tell he liked seeing me afraid, snake that he was.
I knew the look from other men I’d known.
Mr. Carboni was a bully and a bruiser. We both knew I was a lamb, not in a position to question or accuse him of anything.
For now, I’d let him win, but only as far as I allowed.
I needed to get out of here in one piece, sure, and with the book still in place.
He made a deal about walking to the window, then sinking into the navy blue armchair. “I’ll sit here,” he declared, crossing one leg over the other like he’d not a worry in his head. And I suppose he didn’t. “Just forget I’m here.”
Christ above, I hated him watching me make his bed, like I was a show.
Or a puppet, maybe. I moved slow as a saint, frightened to death he’d notice the book bumping around inside my dress.
I hoped my belt was cinched tightly enough.
Imagine if the book slipped out and dropped to the floor.
The game would be well and truly over if it did.
“You do a real nice job with the bed, Rosie,” he said, his voice low.
I fluffed the pillows and moved quick to dusting, holding my hands stiff so they’d not shake.
“I got a question for you,” he said, but I didn’t look at him. I was nothing more than a busy, busy chambermaid, working hard, hearing nothing, knowing nothing, and going nowhere near the now-empty nightstand.
“You know a fella named Walsh?”
A blade of fear cut through my body like an electric shock. What was I supposed to say? “I do, sir. He’s a waiter here.”
He chuckled. “Must be plenty of Walshes around here, with all you Irish. Interesting you know which one I’m talking about.”
He was worlds too smart for me. And far too dangerous. The air felt thick. I needed to get out.
“I suppose so, sir. Excuse me,” I said, attempting to dust the table beside him.
I cried out when he grabbed my wrist, then I hugged my other arm to my body, securing the book.
“What’s this Walsh to you, Rosie? What are you doing with a scoundrel like him? I could give you all you ever wanted. He’ll only get you pregnant.”
Sweet mercy, I thought I’d die on the spot. Mr. Carboni’s big hand wrapped clean round my wrist, tight as a smithy’s vice.
“Mr. Carboni, sir, Damien and me, we’re engaged.”
His face darkened. “Engaged? I’m disappointed in you, Rosie.”
“Mr. Carboni, I… Please.” I tried to twist out of his grasp, but he held on a moment longer before reluctantly letting me go.
“Don’t suppose you’d change your mind if I made it worth your while.”
What a filthy thing to say. Was he offering me money? Power? All the baubles he held in his hands? That was all dust to me. All I wanted was Damien.
“No, sir. Thank you for the offer, though,” I said, since it seemed polite to do so. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll clean the washroom, then leave you in peace.”
I turned my back to him and carried what I needed into the washroom, my heart beating like mad. Sweat ran down my chest in a river. I knelt next to the bathtub and made it shine, my mind always on the book thumping lightly against the tub’s wall. God help me, what had I done?
“I have another question for you,” he called from the other room. “You seen my gun? The one that was in my nightstand? It’s disappeared.”
I lie without hesitation. A wise head makes a closed mouth, after all. “G-gun, sir? I’m sorry,” I stammered into the bathtub, hopefully making it hard for him to hear my nerves. “I never saw no gun.”
“No? You’re the only one who’s ever in here besides me and some of my guys. I was sure you’d have seen it, you know, when you were cleaning the room.”
“I don’t clean inside drawers, sir,” I replied, running the water in the sink. Saints preserve us. I had to get out of there before I started crying. “I’m sorry I can’t be of any help.”
I was back on my knees again, cleaning the toilet in no time flat. When I was done, he was leaning against the doorframe behind me, watching me like a hawk.
“You look real good down there, Rosie.” The tip of his tongue peeked out. “Real good.”
Well. He looked like a tiger. I was too afraid to move.
Mrs. Evans was dead. Damien was somewhere else, working.
The rest of the world was in chaos over the Crash.
Nobody was coming to save me. I clutched all the cleaning cloths against my body, holding the book in place at the same time, then quick as a wink, I dashed past him, terrified to my bones.
I threw open the door, pushed the trolley out, and I broke a speed record getting to the elevator.
Damien wasn’t waiting for me when my shift was over. I didn’t know where he was, and I couldn’t wait.
Now I am sitting alone in bed. Even in the dark I can see the black leather book in front of me.
By now, Mr. Carboni has noticed the gun isn’t the only thing missing.