“Did it occur to you,” Erin said, “that maybe they gave you this regular gig because they wanted to keep closer tabs on you?”
“Not until last night,” Stella said. “While they were doing this.”
“This just happened last night?” Tricia said. “Why’d they wait that long?”
“What, you think they should’ve done it sooner?” Stella growled.
“I don’t mean that, it’s just...why didn’t they?”
“Maybe Nicolazzo wasn’t back in the city yet,” Erin said. “Or maybe they’re getting desperate because no other leads have panned out. They must be pretty desperate to have sent those two goons to Charley’s office.”
“They got Charley?” Stella said.
“No, we chased them off.”
“You got lucky, then. Nicolazzo’s boys are awful mean. Charley’d crumble soon as they laid a finger on him. You, too,” Stella said to Tricia. “They’d break you in two. Not sure about you, Erin. You might last a while.”
“Thanks,” Erin said. “I think.”
“One more question,” Tricia said, “then we’ll go. Who else saw the book before it was published? Or did you tell anyone about it?”
“All the girls saw it. You left it lying around, for Christ’s sake.”
“Anyone else?”
“Well, Colleen—I told her. Don’t ask me why. I just thought she might get a kick out of it. This was back before we got the regular gig.”
“Who’s Colleen?”
“Colleen King, the Colorado Kid. You might see her on the way out—she’ll be the one coming to in the ring. She was one of Nicolazzo’s taxi dancers before he put her in the fight game.”
“Does Nicolazzo know you told her about the book?”
“Nicolazzo knows everything,” Stella said. “Everything. I’m no pushover—but we’ve all got limits. I’ll take it on my face if I have to, but when he started moving that ring south I sang like Mahalia Jackson.”
Tricia nodded. What could you say to that? She walked to the door, Erin close behind. Stella watched them go.
“I’m sorry this happened,” Tricia said, her hand on the knob. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I—” She stopped abruptly.
“What?” Stella said.
Tricia felt the knob turning under her hand.
But it wasn’t.
“O-ho,” said the smaller one, “look who’s here.” The larger one ground his knuckles together like a kid warming himself in front of a fire.
“We were just leaving,” Erin said.
“I’m sure you were. You’re not anymore, but I’m sure you were.”
The big one reached inside his coat and brought out something wrapped in brown burlap.
“You can’t keep us here,” Tricia said.
“Who said anything about keeping you here?”
“You did,” Tricia said. “You just said we’re not leaving.”
“What are you, a lawyer? I meant you’re not leaving us.” He snapped his fingers at his partner, who was untangling the burlap. “Bruno, come on, the boss is waiting.”
Bruno finished pulling apart the wad of fabric, but there was nothing inside it—it was just burlap, all the way through. He walked up to Tricia, handed her a piece, then gave another to Erin and crammed the rest back in his deep coat pocket. “Put them on,” he said in his gravel pit voice and mimed pulling something over his head.
Tricia saw the drawstring then, sticking out at the bottom, and realized it was a sack, the sort potatoes come in.
“I’m not putting a bag over my head,” Erin said.
“If she doesn’t,” the other one said, “put it on her.”
“What are you going to do to them?” Stella said.
“What business is it of yours?” the smaller man said. “You didn’t have enough last night?”
Stella said nothing.
“That’s better.”
“People will be looking for us,” Erin said.
“You mean your boss, Borden? You’ll be seeing him soon enough.”
So they’d gotten Charley after all. Tricia’s heart sank.
“I mean the cops,” Erin said. “We’re wanted for assault. After you left, a cop named O’Malley tried to take her in—” she nodded toward Tricia “—and we knocked him out, tied him up. They’re going to be looking for both of us. I don’t know that you want to be seen in our company.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re going to have bags over your heads, isn’t it? Now, quit talking and put ‘em on.” And he whipped out a revolver to emphasize his point. Reluctantly, Tricia opened her bag. She saw Erin doing the same.
The bag smelled musty and earthy as she pulled it over her head, as though it actually had held potatoes sometime recently. Through its coarse weave she could only see a hint of light. She felt a rough hand at her elbow, steering her toward the door.
“You really knocked out a cop?” she heard the smaller man say.
“Yeah,” Erin said. Her voice was muffled. “We really did.”
“With what?”
“Desk lamp.”
“That brass one?” the man said. “Good for you.”
He didn’t say any more till they were in the car. “All right, now you’re going to go in and up two flights of stairs. You’re going to keep the bag on till I tell you to take it off, understand?”
They’d been driving for the better part of an hour, making enough turns along the way that Tricia had no idea where they were. Which, presumably, was the point.
Something hard poked her in the side. “Understand?”
Tricia hadn’t realized he was waiting for an answer from her. “Yes, I understand. Two flights of stairs, keep the bag on.”
“Until what?”
“Until you say so.”
“Good. Now, you.”
Apparently he’d poked Erin, since she said, “Cut it out. I understand.”
“No, for you the rules are different. You’re going downstairs, to the cellar, where Bruno will keep an eye on you. You do whatever he tells you to. Understand?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Well, then,” Erin said.
“Hey, Mitch,” came a low voice from the front seat, “where does he want them, out front or in the back?”
Tricia felt the leg pressed against hers in the back seat tense. Apparently Mitch didn’t much mind them knowing Bruno’s name but hadn’t meant for them to know his.
“In the back,” Mitch barked. “And keep your mouth shut from now on.”
“What?” Bruno said. “Why?”
“You know what,” Mitch said. “And you know why.”
“I don’t, Mitch—”
