Page 38 of Equalizer
“—heard they’re gonna expand the El, too,” his companion chimed in, referring to Chicago’s famed elevated railroad. “Can’t decide whether that’s folly or brilliant, but people are pouring money into it like it’ll turn to gold.”
Pearl flattered and complimented, making a graceful exit once it was clear that the men had shared their most useful information.
She’d make a great spy. I bet Louisa already knows that.
Calvin’s gaze swept the room while Owen’s focus stayed close, watching for any immediate threat. Pearl evaded the advances of drunk men without drawing attention to the situation, slipping out of their grasp and retreating between her two guards when necessary to get the point across.
Fortunately, that didn’t require drawing a weapon—at least, not yet.
They made a complete circuit of the room in the first hour and slowly worked their way around a second time in the next as groupings changed and new guests appeared. Pearl had a gift for working a crowd, and Owen felt certain that she could have done well in the theater if she hadn’t preferred robbing banks.
The party resembled any other, except with guests who were louder and less constrained by the quiet norms of Victorian society. But as the third hour wore on, and the liquor took hold, bawdy dancing and inappropriate clinches on the dance floor became common.
That didn’t deter the gallery watchers, who seemed fascinated by the spectacle. Owen wondered if those observers would leave the event before all social order vanished and the bacchanal began. While arrests were rare given how enmeshed the police were with the Chicago crime families, the upper crust still did their best to avoid a whiff of scandal—at least, of the sexual sort, if not financial failings.
“Veer left,” Calvin murmured. “The two guys at the table at two o’clock on my right were with Luca Conti at the restaurant.”
That didn’t guarantee that the toughs would recognize Calvin and Owen, but it could lead to awkward questions if they did, given their new assumed roles.
A tug on Pearl’s sleeve and a jerk of Calvin’s head changed their direction, and they wove through the crowd sizing up the audience as they went.
“Those bodyguards at the end of the bar,” Owen said. “They have their sleeves hitched up. Do you see the stitches?”
Calvin looked that way and caught a glimpse before the men adjusted their jackets. Each of the men had a row of black stitches where it appeared as if a hand had been reattached.
“Guess there are at least two satisfied customers,” he replied, quiet enough that only Owen could hear him.
“I know you.” The man’s voice sounded at Owen’s elbow, and he tensed, turning to see one of the men from Barone’s restaurant, an older gentleman who had stayed in the background when they met with Luca Conti.
“I believe you’re mistaken,” Owen said with a cool tone and a fixed smile.
“Oh no. I’ve seen you before. That little bit of witchery doesn’t fool me.” His shrewd gaze swept over Owen and Calvin as Pearl continued to talk to her latest mark.
“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Owen said quietly. “As you can see, we’re escorting the lady.”
“Either you lied before, or you’re lying now,” the man persisted. “Which is it?”
“Doing a favor for a friend,” Calvin added, not appearing the least frazzled. “Bending the rules for a good cause.”
“Whoever cast that spell knew what he was doing,” the man added. “Not the cheap cantrip you’d get from a fortune teller. So why are you really here,agents.Give me an answer that makes sense, or I let everyone know we’ve got some feds here.” He dropped his voice on the word, but Owen still winced.
“Trying to get to the bottom of some body snatching,” Calvin said evenly. “Heard anything?”
Owen saw a glimmer of recognition in the man’s eyes, but the set of his jaw suggested he didn’t intend to be helpful.
“Incoming,” Calvin murmured, spotting the big guy with the stitched wrist and his buddy heading their way. “We’ve got trouble.”
Pearl pulled a revolver from her skirts and fired it at the ceiling.
“Drinks are on me, folks!” she shouted.
The crowd surged, coming between them and the older man. Bodies blocked the two toughs, although they were tall enough to see over the mob, and one of them pointed in their direction.
That wouldn’t keep the older man from following them for long, and it would get ugly when people reached the bar and discovered no one had paid their tab.
Owen grabbed Pearl by the wrist as Calvin plowed their way through the crowd, most of whom were either still dancing and oblivious to what was going on—despite the gunshot—or crowding toward the bartenders.
Now I know how a salmon feels swimming upstream.
