Chapter 1: The Moving Job

December 10, 1918

A young man made his way through one of the richest neighborhoods in Manhattan, clutching tightly to the hand of a little boy who stumbled to keep up. Richly-dressed men and their elegant companions jeered at him and his shabby suit as he passed. He ignored them, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck.

“How-how much farther? I’m tired…” The boy’s voice barely rose above a whimper.

His brother flashed him one of his rare smiles. “Not much longer, Marco. Just keep going.”

They walked quickly until finally stopping outside of a huge building with ornate wooden double doors. There was a beefy man guarding it; he sneered at the young man. “There’s nothing for you here, boy. Beat it!”

Although Marco flinched at his loud tone, his brother did not move. “My name is Cirillo Beretta. I’m a friend of the family; your boss will be expecting me.”

The man grunted, “Password?”

Cirillo drew closer, lowering his voice. “What lies beyond the farthest reaches of the stars?”

The guard pulled out a key and unlocked the door, beckoning the two in. Cirillo squeezed Marco’s hand tighter as they walked down darkened halls, listening to the sound of their shoes echoing on the marble tiles. An older man wearing the uniform of a servant motioned them over. “Follow me. The mistress wishes to see you.”

Cirillo’s eyes widened. “The mistress? But Mrs. Eraclea’s been dead five years. Did Mr. Eraclea marry again?”

The butler shook his head sadly. “You must not have heard. Mr. Eraclea died last week; his daughter Delphine is our boss now. Come along.”

They followed him up a long and winding flight of stairs; when Marco began to gasp with the effort, Cirillo grabbed him by the collar and hauled him the last few steps. The door at the top of the stairs was open; light flooded the room beyond. The butler stayed behind as the brothers crossed the threshold.

A young woman was seated at an imposingly large desk, shuffling papers. She smiled when they entered, but it was not a nice smile. “Cirillo and Marco Beretta. My father told me you would come. I understand you need my help?”

Cirillo bowed deeply. “Yes. Our parents recently passed away, and since my father was friends with yours…”

“You thought I would take care of you.” She looked Cirillo over and smiled again. “Well, well, well. You certainly look strong enough. Can you fight?”

He nodded. “Equally well with knives and my bare hands, although I prefer guns.”

“Have you ever killed anyone before?”

His face was blank. “Yes.”

“Excellent. You’ll make a wonderful bodyguard for me.”

As she turned back to her papers, Cirillo spoke up. “What about my brother?”

She blinked at him, focusing on the boy beside him for the first time. “Ah, yes. How old is little Marco again?”

“Eight years old.”

“Hmm.” She inspected Marco closely. “He seems healthy enough. I’ll have the butler take him to Dio; my brother has been begging me for a playmate lately. Oh, but we already have a Marco in service here. Would you like a new name? Let’s see…” Her face lit up as though she had hit upon the best idea in the world; Cirillo took a step back. “Would you like my brother to give you one?”

Marco looked up at Cirillo with eyes full of fear; the young man squeezed his hand one last time before sending him out the door. “Go on, Marco. You’ll be safe.”

It would be the last time anyone would call the boy that name.

August 5, 1929

Ten years later

One of the residences owned by the Eraclea family was a sumptuous penthouse on the Upper East Side. (1.) Delphine had other, more lavish accommodations, so she gifted the apartment to her younger brother Dio. And where Dio went, Luciola Beretta followed.

It was a hot, muggy day, too hot for Luciola to exercise. Even Dio, usually rambunctious, was quiet, barely moving except to push his white-blond hair off his face. They were playing chess; Dio had to wave his hand in front of his face to get his attention. “Hey, Luce. It’s your move.”

Luciola blinked at the board. Oh. Right. I must have dozed off for a minute. “Knight takes rook.”

Dio sighed and moved his piece off the board. “How are you playing so well? You were half-asleep a second ago.”

He almost smiled, but that would have taken effort. “You wanted me to learn, remember? You wanted at least one person who could put up a fight.”

“That’s true. Bishop takes pawn.”

A phone on a side table started to ring; Dio flopped back on the ornate couch, leaning over to pick it up. “Hello? Password? Cirillo, you know my voice by now! …Oh. Okay, put her on, then.” His voice trembled slightly; Luciola’s fists clenched. “Hello, Delphine…Yes. What?” He nearly dropped the phone. “Yes, sister. I see. It’ll be taken care of.” He hung up.

“What is it?” His face is white; what did that woman tell him?

Dio shoved the small table that held their chessboard out of the way, not caring if the pieces scattered on the floor. Luciola stiffened with surprise as the younger boy hugged him fiercely. “Sir?”

His voice was very small. “She told me…now that I’m seventeen, I have to start helping her business. For my first job…you know the DiMarcos, right? They’re muscling in on our speakeasies in Brooklyn. Delphine wants me to kill their consigliere, Giacomo DeNonno. She said…” He shuddered. “She can trust me, because I’m her brother.”

Dio… Luciola sighed. “…What do you want to do?”

Dio pulled away. His eyes were cold. “I won’t kill on my sister’s orders. I’m not one of her hired thugs. She said DeNonno has to die by the end of the month; we can hide until then. We’ll take whatever we can carry—cash, whatever we can pawn, everything—shove it in that crappy old car of yours, and find a place to stay.”

Luciola thought for a moment before speaking. “Sir, if you do this…Delphine will come looking for us. Where will we go? Not even California is far enough away.”

The younger boy started to grin. “So we won’t go that far. We’ll stay in the city. She’s well aware that I’m scared of her; knowing that, the closest she’ll look for us will be the suburbs. See? She’d never think we’d stay in Manhattan!”

There are so many ways this could go wrong, I can’t even think of them all. But…if I don’t go, Dio will go without me. I can’t leave him alone. He groaned. “I’ll go pack.”

&

Even though every fiber of his being rebelled against moving, Dio helped Luciola load up the trunk of his car, an ancient Model T Ford. Although their luggage was mostly money and clothes, there were things Dio had decided he couldn’t live without. The radio took up most of the trunk space by itself, along with a Thompson submachine gun safely tucked away in a violin case.

Their bags packed, Dio made to get in the driver’s seat, only to be stopped by Luciola. “I’ll drive.”

Dio grumbled as he buckled himself into the passenger seat. “I’m a perfectly good driver.”

The older boy raised one eyebrow. “Sir, you’ve been pulled over for speeding too many times. Besides, you don’t even have a license anymore.”

As they drove through narrow, twisting streets to the Lower East Side, Dio thumped the dashboard with his fist. (2.) The glove compartment flew open with a bang. “Luce, this thing is held together by spit and black shoe polish. It’s so old, it deserves a medal for war service. My driving it can’t possibly make it any worse—hey! There’s a ‘For Rent’ sign in front of that brownstone.”

“I see it.” He kept driving.

Dio growled. “Well, why aren’t you stopping, then? Wait, never mind—hey, that car just pulled out, there’s your spot!”

He didn’t hear Luciola’s teeth grinding. “I know.” He parked in one smooth motion, taking a spot that had just been vacated. It was a few doors down from the apartment with a sign in the window that Dio had pointed out, and he saw with relief that it did indeed say “For Rent—Inquire Within.”

Dio bounded up the steps and knocked hard on the door. There was no answer. Okay, the sign says Mattina, so… He leaned on the labeled doorbell. “Hey, anybody home?”

They heard inarticulate grumbling and stomping from within, before a series of locks rattled on the other side and the door was pulled open to reveal a young man in a shabby suit. “Whaddaya want?”

Dio’s eyes narrowed. The people down here are so rude! “Well, we were preparing to look at the rooms you have for rent, but if you’re going to be so rude, my friend and I will go elsewhere.”

Mattina took in the sight of the two men on his front stoop, both finely dressed and clean-shaven. “Oh, ‘scuse me. Didn’t know what you were here fer…I was afraid you’d come to sell magazines or something. Anyway, I’m the landlord of this place, name of Joe Mattina. What can I do fer youse two fine gentlemen?”

That’s more like it. “What rooms do you have for rent?”

“Well, if you’ll follow me upstairs…”

The rooms he showed them had plainly once belonged to a private investigator; his sign was still etched in the glass in the door. Mattina shrugged, embarrassed, when Dio pointed it out. “Yeah, the guy died recently. Ain’t got the time to take the letters off.” He unlocked the door, and they followed him in. “This here was his office, as you can see—still got the furniture and everything. Bathroom’s through that door, kitchen and bedroom’s over there. ‘Fraid you’ll have to share it.”

Dio looked around curiously. There was wood paneling on the walls, several of the ceiling tiles were water stained, and the carpet under their feet was in need of cleaning. The desk and filing cabinet in the office were battered, as was the couch. A chair in the corner had duct tape on the leg. An inspection of the kitchen revealed that the edges of the linoleum were separating from the wall. He turned to Luciola. “What do you think?’”

He frowned. “Well, it’s a bit dingy, but we can’t afford to be picky. How much for three weeks?”

Mattina told them.

Dio sighed happily. “That’s not much, right?”

The landlord continued. “And then of course there’s the key money, and the electric bill, and the water bill, and the—”

Luciola cut him off. “We’ll take it.”

&

It took three hours and half a pack of cigarettes to move their things in and put everything in its proper place. Once he was done, Luciola sank onto the bed with a sigh. It’s too hot for this.

Dio came in, yawning. “I’m exhausted. Time for bed.”

Luciola checked the clock on the wall. I didn’t realize it was so late; the sun’s only just set. “Where did you put the case?”

“There’s a safe under the desk. It’s in there.” Dio sat down on the bed next to him; the springs creaked loudly under his weight. He winced. “The guy before us didn’t spend too much cash on this, huh? But it should still hold the both of us.”

The older boy felt his face heat up. “I was going to sleep on the couch in the office…”

Dio grabbed his arm as he started to rise from his spot. “That couch is even older and crappier than this bed. Stay here tonight, okay?”

“Umm…” Sharing a bed? That’s a little strange, isn’t it? But…he does have a point; there are some very suspicious stains on that sofa. I suppose it can’t hurt. “As you wish.”

He folded his clothes neatly on the nightstand before crawling into bed, shaking his head in disgust at Dio’s shirt, tie, and slacks flung haphazardly on the floor. “You could at least fold your shirt.”

Dio shrugged. “What’s the point? I won’t be wearing the same one tomorrow, anyway.”

Luciola sighed. He’s such a slob. “Good night, sir.”

“Night, Luce.” Dio reached over and turned off the light.

He wasn’t used to sharing a bed with anyone, but as Luciola listened to Dio’s steady breathing, he thought he could get used to it.

Chapter 2: The Stalking Job

August 6, 1929

Luciola was woken up the next morning by the sounds of two people having an argument in the apartment next door. He briefly debated going back to sleep before his grumbling stomach reminded him of his need for food. I suppose I should make toast or…something. Wasn’t there a cookbook in the pantry? He heaved himself out of bed and pulled a pair of slacks on before shuffling into the kitchen.

There was indeed a cookbook, as well as a toaster that might have served with distinction during the Great War. The bread in the pantry was stale, but it toasted well, and the butter hadn’t gone bad yet. As he ate, he heard someone knocking on the door.

Who the hell…? He ignored it.

They knocked louder. He sighed. Guess I’d better tell them to go away…

He opened the door and found himself looking down at a dark-haired woman in a blue dress. She smiled brightly. “Good morning! You’re the private eye, right?”

He blinked at her. Oh, right, the sign on the door. “Umm…”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Dio had woken up. His shirt was only partially buttoned, and his pants were wrinkled. Luciola tried not to stare at the portion of his chest that had been left exposed. “Who are you?”

She looked at him, obviously confused. “My name’s Daphne Korakos. I heard there was a famous private investigator here, so I came to hire him…but you two are too young to be him. Who are you? Are you minding his house while he’s away or something?”

Dio swallowed audibly. “No. No, the guy you’re looking for…he’s dead. We rented this apartment. Dio Eraklea, at your service; my friend is Luciola Beretta. If it’s criminal elements you’re having trouble with, we can help you, Miss…Korakos, huh? You’re Greek too?”

Daphne sighed before looking him up and down, taking in his near-white hair and blue eyes. “You’re Greek? ‘Eraclea’ isn’t a Greek name, is it? I am, but what does that have to do with anything?”

He shrugged. “My great-great-grandfather was Italian; he passed the name down. (1.) Just wondering. What’d you need an investigator for?”

She blushed. “Umm…can I come inside for a minute? It’s kind of…I don’t want to tell you standing out in the hall like this.”

Luciola stood aside for her. I can’t believe this. God, what did I do, that I don’t deserve a nice, quiet morning?

She sat down on the couch for a second before wincing and shifting position. “Ouch. Umm, anyway. Who are you, if you’re not private eyes? Cops?”

Luciola shuddered, and Dio winced. “In the sense of working against bad guys…I guess you could call us something like that. So are you having some trouble with crooks? Someone steal a necklace from you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. See, my boyfriend Curtis…he’s been really secretive lately. He’s never available anymore, and he doesn’t want to go out with me on Saturdays like we always used to. He works in a secondhand shop on Delancey, and, well…I’m afraid he’s cheating on me. So if it isn’t too much trouble…could you go down there today, maybe check it out?”

No. We don’t have time. Luciola opened his mouth to decline, but Dio spoke over him.

“Sure, we’ll help. It’ll be easy.”

Daphne’s face lit up. “Thank you! I’m sorry about the mistaken identity, but of course I’ll pay…how much per hour?”

“Don’t worry about it. You can pay us when we catch the creep.”

Luciola began to be aware of a sinking feeling in his chest, one that didn’t go away even when Dio smiled at him. This is going to be a pain. But if it makes him smile like that…I guess it’s worth it.

August 8, 1929

“So where is this shop again?” Dio squinted at the crumpled map of lower Manhattan he had found in the glove compartment.

“1725 Delancey. It’s just down this block.” They came to an intersection with a yellow light; as Luciola stepped on the gas, the light turned red. He made a snarling noise of frustration and hit the brake instead.

As Luciola’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, Dio covered his hand with his own. “Hey, what’s the matter with you? Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

He sighed. “Sir…don’t you ever think before you act? We agreed that we would lay low for a while. What made you decide to help that woman? We’ve been trailing that boyfriend of hers for two days, and we still don’t have any solid evidence.”

Dio shrugged. “I thought it would be fun. I wasn’t planning on lazing around the house for the rest of the month, after all.”

The light changed again, and he continued on. There was a parking spot nearby, just big enough for their car. Privately, Dio thought this was a miracle; it was, after all, a working day, and the sidewalk was packed with people. The store they were looking for was only three doors down, and Dio headed towards it before being stopped by Luciola.

“Wait. We don’t want him to spot us watching him.”

There was a newsstand in front of the store; they loitered there. Luciola lit a cigarette and made a show of flipping through an Italian paper, while Dio scanned the crowd. He had to fight to keep a grin off his face. This is so much fun. I feel like I’m in a detective novel.

Their target, a young man with dark hair and green eyes, was manning the register, drumming his fingers on the desk. There was a cup of tea by his elbow; by the lack of steam, Dio knew it was cold. The store was otherwise empty. As a customer—a fashionably dressed woman in the bobbed hair and shapeless dress of a flapper—entered, Dio elbowed Luciola. “Hey, look.”

Luciola put his cigarette out and reached for another paper, this one in English. He pretended to read while keeping an eye on Curtis, who had come out from behind the counter in order to hug the woman; she kissed him on the mouth. Underneath his breath, Luciola remarked, “Miss Korakos was right. What should we do?”

“Just watch for now—ooh.” Curtis was kissing the woman rather enthusiastically. And in public, too! I almost feel bad for Miss Korakos, but she did seem to be expecting it…

“I knew it.”

Dio twitched; he hadn’t realized that Daphne had been following them. She reached between them to pay for a Greek newspaper. There was steel in her voice. “I didn’t want to believe it…but there you go. I’m going to go talk to him.”

The door was open, so they could hear what was happening inside. Dio pretended to be engrossed in the waffle iron displayed in the hardware store next door while he listened. Luciola, out of habit, followed two paces behind. There was shouting, most of it from Daphne; Dio caught a few choice phrases in Greek that made him wince. I…don’t even think that’s physically possible… Ouch, a meat grinder? Ew.

Finally, there was a resounding slap and Daphne stormed back out, rubbing her hand. Over her shoulder, she snapped, “I’ll meet you two back at your office in a few hours. I have things to do.”

Luciola and Dio looked at each other. Luciola was the first to speak. “Since we’re here…should we do some shopping?”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Ah, Luciola…he always thinks of the practical things for me.

&

They went out to dinner that night, to a tiny hole-in-the-wall German restaurant, where they ate bratwurst and sauerkraut of questionable quality. Since alcohol was outlawed, they ordered bad coffee. It took a lot of coffee to wash it down, so Dio was even more hyperactive than usual on the ride home. Luciola felt a headache coming on.

When they finally found their way back home after taking an unplanned detour around an overturned fruit cart, he sighed with relief. Now I can relax. He tossed his hat in the general direction of a hook on the wall and sat down on the one couch cushion that hadn’t been torn yet. I can’t believe we had to drive all over the Lower East Side just to help some woman we barely know…and she hasn’t even paid us yet. It doesn’t feel right to deceive her into thinking we’re detectives, but… He thought of the money in his wallet, now shrunk to a few bills after paying for groceries and dinner. Maybe we won’t have to tell her.

Dio bounced into the front office, turning the radio on. The sound of a slightly off-key jazz saxophone filled the room, mixed with occasional bursts of static. “Hey, Luce. Look what I found!” He pulled out a half-empty bottle of wine from behind his back and waved it around triumphantly. “And this is good stuff, not the cheap liquor Delphine trades in. Want some?”

Luciola shook his head. “Sir, that might well have turned into vinegar by now.”

Someone knocked on the door; Daphne’s voice filtered through it. “I’m back. Mind letting me in?”

Dio paled and jumped up to hide his bottle in the desk drawer. Luciola opened the door for Daphne, who blushed on seeing him. “…I have pretty bad news.”

Oh no. She’d better not be trying to get out of paying us. He took a seat on the couch, drumming his fingers impatiently. “What is it?”

Daphne couldn’t meet his eyes. “Umm…well, first, I want to thank you for helping me catch Curtis cheating on me. I bet you’ll be happy to know I kicked him out. But…since I skipped work to confront him today, my boss fired me. And I can’t…umm, afford to pay you anything right now.” Luciola cracked his knuckles involuntarily on hearing this; she paled and hastened to add, “But I can still help you out! You’re investigators, right? I could be your secretary, for free. Just—just until I pay off the cost of the job you did.”

She isn’t paying us. I can’t believe she isn’t paying us! Well, I suppose there’s no harm in letting her know now. “Listen, Miss Korakos, we…”

Dio interrupted him. “We can’t let you work for us for free.”

Luciola choked. “Dio, what on earth—”

She started to smile. “How much, then?”

Dio stood up from his chair, ruffling through a heap of papers on top of the desk. “Two dollars a day, five days a week. We need you to sort and file every scrap of old paper our predecessor used in his cases and look for anything related to the Eraclea family. We have…strong suspicions…that they may be involved in organized crime.”

“Oh. That, I can do.” She frowned at him; Luciola decided he didn’t like the look in her eyes. “This Eraclea family…you’re not related, are you?”

Dio rolled his eyes. “Would I be here if I was? Besides, my name isn’t even spelled the same way; they’re ‘Eraclea’ with a C and my name is ‘Eraklea,’ with a K.”

She smiled pleasantly. “Sorry; my mistake. I can come back tomorrow around nine to start. In the meantime, I brought you the evening paper; there’s an incident you might find interesting. ‘Night, boss.”

As soon as the door shut behind her, Luciola spoke. “She knows. I saw the look on her face.”

Dio nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

He rubbed his forehead, trying to lessen his migraine. “We have to go. If she sells us out to your sister…” Damn, I want a cigarette. He dug a slightly crumpled pack out of his jacket pocket and lit up, taking a long drag. Ah, that’s better.

“She won’t.” Dio grinned at him. “After all, we’re paying her salary; as long as we treat her right, we could be making rotgut in the bathtub and she wouldn’t care. Besides, having her gather information for us is a good way to keep track of what my sister’s up to. She can go places where we’d stick out like sore thumbs. And she can talk to cops for us!”

This is not a good idea. He sighed, blowing out smoke. “Sir, are you really sure about this?”

The younger boy nodded. “Besides, if nothing else, it will be fun. Let’s check out the paper she left.”

He picked it up off the couch. “The airship launching? (2.) Interesting, sir, but not exactly relevant.”

Dio sat down next to him, leaning over his shoulder. “Look underneath it. ‘Inventors of Miraculous Painkilling Drug Missing.’”

Luciola read it out loud, in an effort to keep Dio from invading his personal space again. “’William and Anna Hamilton, noted chemists and owners of Exile Pharmaceuticals, have disappeared on the day they were to unveil their latest creation. Their whereabouts are still unknown, but police have vowed to start the investigation, quote, ‘as soon as possible’, end quote.’”

Dio snorted. “That means never. What next?”

He continued. “’The Hamiltons were noted for their staunch support of the Volstead Act. (3.) The patents they hold on medicines have made them thousands of dollars, and yet they continue to lead a frugal life. In the wake of this senseless crime, their young daughter Alvis has been sent to live with family friends.’” He folded the paper. “That’s it.”

Dio rested his head on Luciola’s shoulder. “The Hamiltons…Delphine used to curse them, remember? Their men would go around scoping out our businesses, then give the locations to police they knew couldn’t be bribed. No matter how many my sister had bumped off, they’d hire more. Plus, they’re almost as rich as she is. You think maybe she had something to do with it?”

“Perhaps.” It would certainly get rid of a major thorn in her side, especially since she’s got so many cops in her pocket already. Not to mention, that new medicine they made up might be useful to her if she could get them to spill the formula. Luciola sighed. We can’t get away from her, can we? No matter where we go, we can’t run forever.

&

Chapter 3: The Questioning Job

August 9, 1929

Dio yawned, shuffling into the kitchen. Time for breakfast. Hmm…I could make eggs; if I follow the recipe, it shouldn’t be too hard. Then again…didn’t we buy strawberries yesterday? The box was in the refrigerator, which he opened carefully. I hate these things. Appliances intended to cool food shouldn’t throw off this much heat. (1.) The strawberries were sweet and red all the way through.

“Sir, you could save some for me.” Luciola had woken up. He had thrown on a shirt, but not buttoned it; Dio told himself firmly that the heat in his face was purely a result of the temperature, which was just as hot as the day before had been.

“Good morning to you, too.” Dio handed him the rest of the box, which Luciola ate quickly. He tried not to notice the way the juice stained his fingers and mouth red.

There was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it; must be Daphne.” Dio motioned for Luciola to sit and answered the door.

Daphne walked in, dressed in a slightly tatty blue suit; even the hand-stitched embroidery on the cuffs and lapels couldn’t completely disguise the frayed threads. She was smiling. “I’m ready to start work, boss. Mind if I use the desk?”

“Go right ahead.”

She sniffed. “Do I smell strawberries?”

Dio looked at his hands, which were stained pink. “Oh. Yeah, that was our breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, men. Mind if I use your kitchen to make you a decent breakfast to celebrate my first day on the job?”

He went back into the kitchen, grinning. “Hey, Luce. Daphne says she’ll make us breakfast!”

Luciola was washing out the empty strawberry box in the sink. Dio noticed with disappointment that he had buttoned his shirt. “Fine.”

She made eggs, humming cheerfully as she cooked. After they ate, she washed the dishes and sat down at the desk to sort papers. While she worked, Dio challenged Luciola to a game of chess.

Hours passed. Luciola had turned the radio on to some classical music station; it was playing a Bach concerto softly. The two boys were playing their seventh game when someone knocked on the door.

Another client? Dio opened the door and found himself face-to face with a brown-haired boy around his age. A redheaded girl in a brown suit stood beside him. Behind them both, trembling, stood a little girl squeezing a stuffed goat. “Can I help you?”

The boy nodded. “I’m Claus Valca, and this,”—he indicated the redheaded girl—“is Lavie Head. We have a case for you. Can we come in?”

A case! That means they’re willing to pay. Dio beamed. “Yes, come in and sit down!” He ushered them in, grinning as he introduced himself and the others. “My name is Dio Eraklea; that’s with a K not a C. My associate here is Luciola Beretta, and Miss Korakos is our secretary. What can I do for you?”

Claus and Lavie sat on the couch, with the little girl in between. She had not yet spoken. Now she whispered, “My parents are missing.”

Claus patted her head consolingly. “Al, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “I have to.”

Dio sat on the floor facing her, bringing himself to her eye level. “Al? What happened to your mom and dad? If you tell us, we can try to help.”

Lavie lit a cigarette and took a drag before speaking. “You don’t know? It was in all the papers yesterday. She’s Alvis Hamilton.”

Daphne spluttered in shock. “The Alvis Hamilton? But then—you’re not her relatives, are you?”

Claus sighed. “She’s been staying with us for the past two days now. We’re both assistant reporters for the New York Times, so we were on the job when the Hamiltons showed up for an interview. They brought Al with her, and my boss told me to keep her company while her parents were interviewed. They…were called away and never came back. The relative that she was supposed to stay with was contacted, but he’s in Paraguay at the moment. Until he gets back, we’re in charge of her.”

“In other words, when they saw they had a traumatized child on their hands, they stuck her with you two because it would be easier than tracking her relatives down.” Luciola’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think very well of your bosses right now, Mr. Valca.”

Lavie sighed, blowing out a plume of smoke. “Actually, it was the cops who asked us to take her in. Since they’re treating it as a kidnapping case, they don’t want to publicize her location just yet, and Inspector Rowe knew our parents from way back.”

Dio felt a shudder pass through him. They’re friends with high ranking cops? Oh, no. This isn’t good. “So if you can pull so many strings at the NYPD, why are you bothering to come here?”

“The police have their hands full with a drug ring in the Bronx. They don’t feel like helping us that much.” Lavie hugged Alvis tightly. “I know what it’s like to lose my parents; I don’t want Al to go through the same thing.”

Dio offered Alvis a friendly smile. “Can you answer our questions?”

She nodded, hugging her stuffed goat tighter.

“Okay, let’s start. What were you and your parents doing the day they went missing?”

She stared at her feet, kicking the couch. “Umm…we got dressed and ate breakfast. Then we got in a big car and drove for a while. I think I fell asleep, because my mommy had to wake me up when we stopped in front of the newspaper building. Have you ever been there, mister? It’s really big. When we came in, everyone looked really happy to see us, especially this one really loud guy.”

Dio looked to Claus for clarification. “Adolph Ochs. He’s the publisher.” (2.)

Alvis continued. “My parents followed him, but they made me stay behind. I was really nervous, but Claus kept me company. And then…then…” She started to sob.

Daphne left her seat behind the desk, coming forward in order to reach out a hand to the little girl. She was holding a lollipop. “Don’t cry. We’ll get your mom and dad back, okay? So you won’t have to be sad anymore. Here; I’ve got candy for you, if you want it.”

She took it. “Y—you’ll really help?”

“Yes. It’s our job, after all.” Luciola was looking at her with something close to compassion. “You’ll have your parents back soon.”

&

Dio was drumming his fingers on the dashboard. Luciola tried to ignore it. Let me see, Times Square…if I remember right, I should take a left here…hey, where does that cab driver think he’s going?

Annoyed, he swerved around the yellow cab in front of him, eliciting a yelp from Dio. “Hey, watch it! Geez, and you call me a bad driver?”

Luciola sighed and continued driving. That poor girl… “Sir, do you think this Mr. Ochs will be able to help us?”

“Yeah. If nothing else, he’ll want to give the impression of being useful.” Dio paused, frowning. “Poor kid. She’s not so different from us, you know?” His face fell. “At least she knows her mom, though.”

That’s right. Dio’s mother died soon after he was born, and mine… Luciola decided to change the subject. “We have to be careful when we get there. There might still be cops around.”

“No, you have to be careful. They’ll roll out the red carpet for an Eraclea.” Dio grinned at him. “Don’t worry so much; nobody’s going to say anything as long as we look official.”

Official? “Sir, forgive me…but you don’t exactly blend into a crowd.”

The New York Times Building was a hive of activity. Despite Luciola’s words, nobody so much as gave them a second glance until they reached the front door, where an old man was guarding the entrance. He didn’t appear to notice Dio, but grabbed at Luciola’s sleeve as he passed. “You look familiar, boy. What’s your name?” He spoke with a thick Italian accent.

The boy flinched. Who is this man? “Pardon me, signore. I don’t believe we’ve met before. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He pulled free. Dio was standing a short distance away, waiting for him.

There were two secretaries at the front desk. The one on the left was slouched down in her seat, exposing only the top of her dark-haired head, and scribbling in her notebook furiously. The brown-haired one on the right was also writing something, but she looked up when she heard them approaching. “Can I help you?”

Dio gave her a curt nod. “We’re private investigators hired by the Hamilton family. It’s very important that we speak to Alfred Ochs.”

She slipped her glasses down the end of her nose, blinking at them over the gold frames. “Mr. Ochs? Well, I’ll try…but he’s had a lot on his plate since Wednesday, so I don’t know.” She picked up the telephone by her side. “Hello, Michelle? I have a pair of PIs here asking for Mr. Ochs…No, I haven’t seen them before.” She looked at them speculatively for a moment. “I guess you could say that, yeah…Names?”

Aliases, aliases…ah, I’ve got it. Luciola spoke up. “Bill Haines and Jim Shields.” (3.)

“Okay, then.” She turned back to the phone. “Michelle, can you…Yeah. The Hamilton case. He will? Great.” She was smiling when she faced them again. “He’ll see you now. It’s the first elevator on your left; take it all the way up.”

Once they were safely in the elevator, Dio raised an eyebrow. “Bill Haines and Jim Shields? The actors?”

Luciola shrugged. “It was the first thing that came to mind.”

They rode the elevator the rest of the way in silence. When they arrived at the top floor, the hallway was empty save for a black-haired girl at her desk. As they drew closer, they saw her name tag read “Michelle.” She barely even glanced at them. “Bill Haines and Jim Shields?”

“That’s us.”

“Go on in, then. The boss is waiting for you.”

They pushed open the doors next to the secretary’s desk and walked into Ochs’ office.

&

Dio’s first impression was that it was cluttered. Stacks of paper were piled high on the desk and spilled out of half-open file cabinets. A family photograph had been propped up on the only unoccupied section of desk, and Ochs’ name plate rested on top of a box marked “Ingoing.” The man himself frowned at them over a pile of paper, cigar clenched between his teeth. “You here to interrogate me about the Hamiltons?” He did not offer them a chair.

Dio nodded. I have to be confident. If I falter, he’ll suspect something’s off. “The name’s Bill. Bill Haines. My friend over here is Jim Shields. We were hired by a member of the Hamilton family to investigate the disappearances of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. We were told you were the last to speak to them on the day they went missing.”

Ochs chewed the end of his cigar, clearly thinking. Finally, he spoke. “They showed up around nine on Wednesday. Brought their little girl with them—Alice or something; I’m not too sure of her name. I had one of the junior reporters keep her busy while I took them up to my office. Right after they came in, my phone rang; the woman on the other end asked to talk to Mr. Hamilton, so I gave him the phone.” He sighed. “Whatever she said to him made his face go white. I still remember how panicked he looked. He grabbed his wife’s hand and ran out the door, telling me we’d continue talking later. As you know, they never came back.”

A woman? “And this woman on the other end…did you ask her name?”

He rubbed his forehead, groaning. “No. I didn’t even think…damn it. I saw them leave from my window in a rented limo, but I thought they had forgotten to bring something from home. They live close by, you know. But after a few hours, I had a call put through to their house, and the servants said they hadn’t seen them since they left that morning.”

Dio frowned. “How did you know it was a rented limo?”

“Saw the company sign painted on the side. I think it was Silver Limousine Company…no, wait. Sylvia? Sylvan? Oh, yeah—Silvana Limousine Company. You should check them out as soon as you can; their main depot is on 112nd Street, but they’re closed today.”

Silvana Limousine Company… “We will. Thank you for your time.”

Their return to the first floor was silent until Luciola spoke. “Do you think it was her?”

Dio instinctively reached for Luciola’s hand, and found his fingers wrapping around him. They were warm and strong, encasing Dio’s hand and stopping him from trembling. “It might be.” Delphine…She certainly had more than a few motives. If it was her, then we can’t let her get away with it. No…I can’t let her get away with it!

“Luciola?”

“Hmm?”

“We have to solve this case. Let’s drive up to that limo company first thing tomorrow, okay?” At first I thought it would be fun pretending to be a detective. But if my hunch is right, and Delphine is involved in this…the time for fun is over.

&

Chapter 4: The Driving Job

August 10, 1929

Luciola woke up to the smell of something burning and sat up with a jolt to see that the door leading to the kitchen was open. Dio was rummaging around in the refrigerator. He hadn’t put a shirt on, and Luciola tried not to stare as he reached for his own clothes.

Dio glanced over at him. “Oh, you’re up.”

He looked past him, eyes flickering from the stove to the toaster. “Dio…what are you doing?”

Dio appeared to have finally found whatever he had been looking for in the fridge. “Breakfast. Good thing we bought that jam, huh?”

For a few moments, Luciola stared at him, fingers automatically doing up the buttons on his shirt. Finally, he spoke. “You’re making breakfast?”

The white-haired boy turned to the toaster, snatching two slices of bread as they popped up. He looked rather insulted at the suggestion. “Why so shocked, Luce? Even I can make toast if I feel like it.”

I know, but…I didn’t expect him to actually do it. “Thank you.”

Luciola ate his toast with butter, standing over the sink to catch the crumbs. Dio had his with strawberry jam, noisily sucking his fingers clean when he was done. As Luciola tried to block out the sounds, he spoke up. “Daphne called while you were sleeping. She told me she called the limo company for us, and they’re open today. They said they couldn’t open yesterday on account of the police investigating, but they’re willing to talk to us now. It’s too bad; there’s a new movie out today I thought we could have seen, but I guess we have to work.”

“Excellent. Let’s go.” Luciola buttoned his jacket. The sooner we talk to these people, the sooner we can wrap this case up.

“Wait!”

Luciola was already at the door, pulling his shoes on. “Sir?”

Dio’s voice traveled from the bedroom, where he was presumably putting on his shirt. “We have to pick up Daphne too—she says there are still cops hanging around. She’ll have to talk to them for us; we’ll tell her we need her for moral support or something.”

Moral support? As Dio returned—still trying to button his sleeve cuffs—Luciola frowned at him. The most he’s ever been pulled over for is speeding, and as far as they know my record is clean. Then again…he’s not exactly the kind of person you’d forget.

Dio sighed, letting his unbuttoned cuffs flop. “I give up. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Luciola looked at him and sighed, grabbing his wrist. “I’d never be able to forgive myself if I let you go out looking like that.” He did up the buttons quickly, shivering at the little jolt that ran through him whenever his fingers brushed Dio’s skin. “There.” He very pointedly did not meet Dio’s eyes. This is ridiculous. He’s my boss, for heaven’s sake.

Daphne lived a few minutes away, in a neighborhood that was only slightly better than theirs. The paint on the door was only a little chipped, and there were no empty bottles smashed on the sidewalk. Luciola double-parked outside while Dio headed up to the door and rang the bell. Daphne appeared shortly, still pulling her jacket on. “Hey! Morning, boss! Are you going to Silvana Limos?” She looked past him to the waiting car. “Nice car.” Her voice was tinged with sarcasm.

While Dio and Daphne chatted, Luciola tried to tune them out and focus on his driving. However, they proved impossible to ignore completely, and bits of their conversation—such as the fact that Daphne had once been a seamstress, or that Dio was a big fan of H.P. Lovecraft novels, or that they both shared a love for comedies—kept seeping into his brain as he navigated the streets. (1.)

The Silvana Limousine Company was a small building, fairly nondescript save for the huge garage attached to it and the enormous sign above the door. Just under the sign was a red-and-white striped awning, providing shade for the middle-aged man in a mechanic’s suit smoking a cigarette underneath it. He glanced at them as they parked across the street and approached him. “You want a limo for tonight?”

Daphne blinked at him. “…Kostabi, right? You’re the guy I talked to on the phone; I recognize your voice. These are my bosses, Luciola Beretta and Dio Eraclea. We’d like to know which limos were rented out on Wednesday.”

He grinned at her. “So you’re Miss Korakos. Come on in.”

&

The inside of the building was cramped. A heavily modified Bentley was being worked on by a pair of mechanics, taking up most of the space. A desk had been wedged into a corner by the door; it was occupied by a young woman chatting on the phone and jotting down notes on a legal pad. Dio’s eyes fell on a cop in uniform, lounging against the wall. As he kept a wary eye on the cop, he was vaguely aware that Kostabi was still talking. “I wasn’t working that day, but Ethan was. Hey, Ethan!”

The sudden yell made him flinch. The mechanic in question—a young man barely a few years older than him—also jumped, hitting his head on the hood of the Bentley as he straightened up. “Ow! I’m coming, geez. What’s going on?”

Kostabi smacked him on the back, hard enough to make him stumble. “You’re going to help out these two gentlemen; they’re investigating the Hamilton case. Just tell them what you know. I’ll take over the maintenance.” He ambled over to the Bentley, humming cheerfully.

Ethan’s eyes widened, taking in Luciola’s sharply pressed black suit and Dio’s slightly wrinkled gray one. Dio grumbled and pulled his hat down as the mechanic’s gaze flickered to his hair. “You were working here on Wednesday. Do you know who rented a limo that day?”

Ethan frowned, thinking out loud. “Well…one of our Bentleys broke down that day, so I spent most of my time fixing it. And then we had a visit from a client, so…”

“You have no idea who rented what that day. Correct?” Luciola’s tone was so sharp and impatient that Dio almost felt sorry for Ethan.

“Umm…well, no.” His eyes lit up suddenly as an idea occurred to him. “But Wina does. Her job is to keep track of all that stuff.” He called over to the desk, “Hey, Miss Lightning! Could you look up all the rentals we had out on Wednesday?”

Wina didn’t even glance up from her notepad. “Just a minute, sir…” She covered the receiver with her hand. “Not right now; I need to finish this call with Mr. van der Meer first.” She turned back to the phone. “Sorry, sir. As I was saying…”

An awkward silence seemed to hang in the air around the small group clustered just inside the doorway. Finally, Ethan broke it. “Eraclea, huh? I think we had a customer with that name once…”

Dio paled and adjusted his fedora again, covering more of his hair. “No relation.”

“Sorry. It’s just your name…”

“You wanted to know about the clients for August 7, 1929, right?” Wina’s voice cut through their halting attempts at conversation.

Dio fairly bounced over to her desk. Finally, a lead! “Yes! Who were they?”

She sighed. “The records for that day…they’re illegible. I spilled coffee on the ledger. I’m sorry. You could ask the good officer propping up the wall over there—he’ll tell you the same thing.”

Oh no. Now where do we go? If we can’t trace the car… Dio groaned.

Next to him, Luciola sighed heavily and reached for a cigarette. “Should we go, sir?”

Daphne shrugged. “Don’t worry. We’re bound to find another lead somewhere else.”

Yeah… “Let’s go. There are other places to look.”

Two young women came through the door just as Dio reached it, and he had to stop short to avoid bumping into the first one. “Excuse me.”

“Oh…sorry.” One of the young women had kept her brown hair unfashionably long; her eyes were fixed on Ethan’s, who was blushing furiously. Her companion sighed. Dio looked from her beaded silk dress to Ethan’s oil-stained jumpsuit and raised an eyebrow.

Ethan stammered. “Uh…Alis, Miss Wisla, this is Mr. Eraclea, Mr. Beretta, and Miss Korakos. They’re trying to solve the Hamilton case. Um…this is Alister Agrew and Tatiana Wisla.”

Tatiana gave them a curt nod. “Nice to meet you.”

Alister glanced at them. Her eyes were sad. “You’re trying to help the Hamiltons? They were…well, not friends, exactly, but I knew them. I wish you well.”

Daphne sighed and crossed her arms. “Thank you for the kind sentiments, Miss Agrew, but it doesn’t really help when we have no leads.”

Alister’s gaze fell on Dio, and he squirmed uncomfortably. “Mr…Eraclea, right? I’m hosting a party at my home in Astoria next Friday night at seven. The Hamiltons were very popular, and many of their supporters will be there. If you attend, you might find someone willing to help. Dress formally.” At Daphne’s hopeful glance, she added, “You are all invited.”

Dio and Luciola exchanged glances. Luciola looked skeptical, but Dio found himself smiling. The Agrews are rich and powerful. The Wislas are…not as rich, but they have friends in high places. Not as prominent as the Hamiltons, but still…anyone they consider important enough to invite to one of their summer parties might be able to provide us with some assistance. His eyes flickered back to Alister’s. “Thanks. I’ll have to check my calendar, but I think I can make it.”

She smiled at them. “That’s wonderful.”

Ethan shifted his weight from foot to foot, staring at his dirty boots. “And, umm…if you need a limo to get there…”

Tatiana cut him off. “Tell your boss you won’t be working that night.”

“Eh? But—”

Alister’s ears turned very slightly pink. “You can’t be in two places at once, after all. And…I’d like you to attend my party.”

&

“So why didn’t you talk to the cop in there? He might have helped. Not that I’m not thrilled to be heading off to this shindig, but…you know, we need all the help we can get.”

At least Daphne had waited until they were safely in the car to ask that question. Luciola put the car in gear, but did not pull out from their parking spot yet. I knew she would ask eventually. We should have gotten rid of her when we had the chance. He raised an eyebrow at Dio, who shook his head. Damn.

He did not turn to look at her as he pulled out into the street, but he knew she was waiting for a reply. Slowly, he spoke. “Mr. Eraclea and I…we have minor records with the police.”

Dio jumped in. “It’s nothing serious. A count of speeding, a littering charge—I told Luciola not to throw his cigarette butt out the window, but he didn’t listen. Minor things, but I still get a little rattled around cops.”

She stared out the window at the passing cars. “Hmm. I see.”

They drove on in silence for a while. Eventually, Dio broke it. “Daphne, do you have any errands to do today? Since we’re out anyway, we could drop you off someplace.”

“Well…” She sighed. “I do have a dress to wear for that party, but it’s kind of old and ratty-looking, so I wanted to spruce it up a bit. There’s a big fabric store on 67 West. Could you drop me off there? I can take the subway home.”

Who does she think we are, her chauffeurs? Nevertheless… “Sure.” It’s not much of a detour, anyway.

The sidewalk in front of the fabric store in question was packed. Luciola pulled up to the curb and let Daphne out; she waved to them before disappearing into the crowd. As they drove away, Dio turned to catch his eye. “Luce…you know, we still have the rest of the day ahead of us.”

Luciola tilted his head, allowing him to keep one eye on Dio and the other on the road, which was apparently filled with bad drivers and asylum inmates. He had to raise his voice slightly to be heard above someone honking a horn behind him. “Yes?”

“There’s still time for us to head over to the movie theater and see a show or two. Isn’t the matinee on around now?”

As a young woman driving a Model T Ford even older than his cut him off, Luciola slammed on the brakes with a growl. Are the roads filled with idiots today or something? Then Dio’s words filtered through his annoyance. “I suppose so. What movie did you want to see?”

Dio grinned. “It’s called The Awful Truth. It’s supposed to be a comedy. Ooh, and it’s got Theo von Eltz in it! You know, from that movie we saw? (2.) I liked him in that one.”

Luciola sighed. He had been with Dio for years, and he knew by now that when Dio had his heart set on doing something, nothing could distract him for long. “Fine. But when the show’s over, we should go back to the apartment and make sure we actually have presentable outfits to wear to Miss Agrew’s party.”

Dio picked at a crease in his slacks. “Yeah…I should get this thing pressed. Do you remember if I packed my tux or not?”

“I don’t recall.” Speaking of tuxedos, did I bring mine?…Hmm. Yes; now that I think about it…God, don’t let it still be in my suitcase. The wrinkles will take forever to iron out.

“Tickets for the Roxy aren’t that expensive, right?”

Luciola started driving towards it almost automatically. He knew the way by heart; with nothing better to do, the two of them had often spent hours watching show after show in the vast and ornate theater. There was no chance of parking near the building, but they found a spot two blocks away and walked up. It was crowded with people of all races and ages, everyone who could afford a ticket. They bought their tickets and were directed to their seats by a smiling usher.

As they took their seats between an elderly couple and a young Asian woman, Dio casually rested his hand next to Luciola’s on the narrow armrest. “Should be a good flick, huh?”

Luciola said nothing, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat sped up at the feeling of Dio’s fingers on his. It’s probably another silly, vapid comedy. But if it makes Dio laugh, then… “Yes.”

They sat together in the dark as the lights dimmed.

Chapter 6 : The City Hall Job

August 19, 1929

Friday’s party had been incredibly nerve-wracking. Even teasing Claus about his inability to dance without tripping over his own feet and musing about whether the punch was spiked (it hadn’t been) had been unable to keep Dio’s mind away from Inspector Rowe’s words. Luckily, the party ground to a halt after Alvis fell asleep on Lavie’s shoulder. The weekend passed quickly; they bought more groceries and ate in. Dio’s cooking gradually began to improve.

The sun was hot on Monday morning, but the wind helped make it a bit more bearable. Dio woke to the smell of instant coffee and smiled. (1.) Luciola. “Morning.”

“Ah, you’re up.” Luciola nodded at him without really seeing him; he was too preoccupied with keeping an eye on the kettle boiling on the stove. The toaster dinged as two pieces of singed toast popped up.

Dio dressed and shuffled into the kitchen for breakfast. “Thanks.”

The coffee was decent, if badly in need of cream and sugar. Luciola didn’t seem to share this opinion, and drank his without milk. There was silence, until someone unlocked the door. Dio drained his coffee and stood up. “That must be Daphne.”

She let herself in, grinning. “Good morning, boss! What’ve you got for me to do today?” She sniffed. “And do I smell coffee?”

“Yeah, come have some. I think we still have enough left for a cup.”

In between sips, she remarked, “So I finished going through all those old records on Saturday; sorry I forgot to tell you. Anyway, I found something interesting.”

Dio shivered despite the day’s heat. How? I asked her to look those up just to keep her busy; my sister covers her tracks so well that I was sure she’d never find anything incriminating. “…And?”

She drummed her fingers on the table, not meeting their eyes. “…Your name. ‘Dio’ can’t be a common name, can it? Especially not ‘Dio Eraclea.’” She smiled faintly. “’Eraclea,’ with a C. I don’t think you’ve been entirely truthful to me, sir. Strange, too, how it showed up next to that of a woman named Delphine. Your sister, maybe?”

Dio’s eyes widened. Luciola, standing by the sink, went very still. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet. “What do you think you’re talking about?”

Daphne shrugged. “It’s not my place to pry about that, or about the locked safe under the desk. But, y’know, if you really want me to keep it to myself…maybe you could raise my salary a bit? My rent’s due at the end of the month, and I won’t be able to pay it with the amount you guys give me. Say, five dollars a day?”

Luciola uncrossed his arms. Although he was seemingly relaxing, his eyes were still narrowed in suspicion. “Three.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Those wrinkled slacks you’re wearing cost a mint. You can do better than that! Four.”

Dio sighed. Well, it’s not like we can’t afford it… “Fine.”

She grinned.”Thanks, boss! I knew you’d come through. Oh, hang on—I need to use the stove.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Don’t need these anymore…” She turned the stove on and held them over the flame, watching as they burned to ash. “There. Now there’s no more evidence, except my word. I’m not going to tell anyone—who’d believe me? Besides, you guys have been pretty good to me so far—you paid me to clean up your files and everything. I trust you not to bump me off.”

She can say things like that so casually…she must really mean it. “Are you done with that coffee?”

She blinked down at the dregs in her cup. “Yeah…”

Dio took it from her and put it in the sink, making sure to run water in it so the grounds didn’t fossilize to the inside. “Good. We have to head over to City Hall today to talk to the mayor; you’re coming with us.”

As he locked the door behind them, Luciola murmured, “Sir, are you sure about this? Now that she knows…”

Dio offered him a smile that he hoped was reassuring. “It’ll be more dangerous not to keep her around. Come on.”

&

The City Hall building was surrounded by police officers, rumored to be a result of the mayor’s increasing paranoia. Luciola tried to remain calm as he walked past them. Dio had better be right about that girl. If she blabs, we’re done for. Luckily, none of the cops gave them more than a cursory glance as they walked up to the gate.

The guard on duty frowned down at them. “What are you kids doing here? The tour don’t start for another two hours.”

Dio smirked at him. “We have an appointment with Mr. Bassa. Let us in.” When the guard simply raised an eyebrow at him, he pulled out his wallet and took out a ten-dollar bill. (2.) “It’s quite important.”

The guard looked both ways cautiously before pocketing the cash and unlocking the gates. “Welcome in, sir.”

They walked through the gates and into the City Hall building itself. The people they passed barely gave them a second glance until they reached the secretary’s desk. She didn’t look up from her typewriter. “Can I help you?”

“We need to speak to Mr. Bassa. Is he available?”

“Hmm…names? I’ll see if you’re on the list.”

Luciola swallowed nervously. I should lie. But…what name can I use that would get us past this girl? Finally, he remembered what Dagobert had told him. “It’s not important. Call him and tell him Les sent us.”

“Hmmm.” She picked up the phone, eyeing them warily. “Ana, it’s Danielle. There are some people here to see Mr. Bassa; they said that someone named Les sent them. Could you…yeah…oh, he will see them? Uh-huh…yeah.” She hung up and turned back to them. “Mr. Bassa will see you. His office is just up those stairs and down the hall, but make it quick; he’s a very busy man.”

As they walked out of earshot, Daphne sighed with relief. “That was nerve-wracking; I wasn’t sure we’d make it! What was that about Les, Mr. Beretta?”

“He was an old friend of Mr. Bassa, apparently. I met him at Miss Agrew’s party.”

She shrugged. “Makes sense. Euris is Mr. Bassa’s daughter, you know; that must be why he was there. And she went to school with Tatiana’s brother and Mr. Valca’s cousin. So pretty much everyone knows each other.”

Dio blinked at her. “How do you know all this?”

She grinned at him. “I talk to people. It helps.”

The door to Bassa’s office was open. The man himself—thin, bald, careworn—was seated at his desk shuffling papers, with his secretary typing diligently at her desk in the corner. He stared at them as they entered. “You…with the white hair. What’s your name?”

Dio shoved his hat down on his head with a grimace. “Dio. My colleagues and I are investigating the Hamilton case; a friend of ours told us you might be able to help.”

He frowned and ruffled through his papers again. “Les. I’m not surprised he decided to help you; we’ve known the Hamiltons for a long time. That poor girl…she isn’t allowed to even contact her friends directly. I’ve had to pass messages between her and the Madosseins’ daughter Holly.”

Miss Alvis…we haven’t been checking on her as often as we should. She is the one we’re working for, after all. She seemed to be holding up well at Miss Agrew’s party, though. “Mr. Dagobert told me that the mayor’s daughter might be willing and able to help.”

“Ah, yes. Miss Forrester and her fiancé are particularly interested in the case. I’ll have to have her discuss it with you, I—”

An old man in black barged into the room, knocking Daphne aside. Three others, younger and burlier, followed him. They stood off to the side as he strode up to the desk, his face twisted with anger. “Where are those reports? Have you even written them up yet?”

Bassa winced. “Sir, I haven’t had time. With the Hamiltons’ disappearance…”

“I don’t care about them. Get me those reports!” The man—probably the mayor, Luciola thought—turned on his heel and left, his entourage trailing behind.

Bassa groaned and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry about that. Mayor Forrester is very…impatient. I can’t do much to help you, but I know someone who can. Miss Sophia Forrester is working upstairs now; I’ll put a call through to her office so she knows to expect you. It’s on the top floor, right by the elevator.”

As they left, Luciola sighed and lit up a cigarette. It helped stave off his rapidly-approaching headache. Please, God, let Miss Forrester be more approachable than her father. I don’t think I could stand working with someone like that…he reminds me far too much of that woman.

&

Sophia Forrester’s office was bathed in light; the windows lacked shutters, and the room was deliberately kept free of clutter. The woman seated at the desk was wearing a black suit and narrow glasses. She did not smile when she saw them. “You must be the people investigating the Hamilton case. I’m Sophia Forrester.”

Dio studied her curiously. She looks a lot like Mrs. Rowe. Are they related somehow? …Unlikely. “A pleasure to meet you.”

She frowned, studying his face. “I know you. Dio Eraclea, age seventeen; your sister is a wealthy socialite. There are some suspicions as to the legality of how she makes her money, but nothing that can be proven yet.”

He shivered. There’s no point in trying to tell her she’s mistaken; this woman is way too smart for that. “My sister…” We’re nothing alike. I’d never help her in a thousand years; if Sophia thinks she can implicate me in anything…

Luciola spoke up, almost but not quite cutting him off. “We need your help on the Hamilton case. Can you provide us with any leads?”

Sophia barely glanced at him before flipping through a stack of papers on her desk. “Hmm. Marco Beretta, age eighteen, known for the past ten years of your life as Luciola. Your brother is Delphine Eraclea’s personal bodyguard. It is suspected by the NYPD that he is involved in organized crime…but, of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Daphne watched both the men with her fall silent. “Miss Forrester, please. Alvis Hamilton is only eleven years old. We promised to return her parents to her, and we can’t exactly break an oath like that. Isn’t there something you can do to help?”

Sophia sighed and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “Daphne Korakos, age twenty-one. Record is clean as a whistle. Well…I have my hands full right now with another case. If you and the ‘detectives,’”—she gave Dio a significant glance—“can do it for me, I’ll help you.”

Another case? Even though it doesn’t look like she’ll pay us in money…we can’t let this chance for a lead pass us by. Dio spoke before he even realized he had opened his mouth. “Sure. What?”

“There is a place called Horizon Cave. It’s a speakeasy, as well as a place to gamble and sell drugs. All I know is that it’s somewhere in Manhattan. I don’t have the ability to order people to find it on taxpayer’s money—I need you. Find it, gather evidence, and alert me. I’ll send cops in; I have certain…contacts. Do this, and I’ll be able to tell you more about the Hamilton case. Do we have a deal?”

A speakeasy? That’s it? But…it might be one of those Delphine controls; I think I heard her mention a name like that once. If we can hurt her, weaken her influence even a little… “We do.”

For the first time, she smiled. “Good. I’ll give you my number; you can call me when you find Horizon Cave.”

As they left, Daphne started to smirk. “So, Horizon Cave, huh? Mind if I accompany you, boss? I haven’t been there in a while.”

Dio stared at her. “You mean you actually know where it is?”

“Well…” She shrugged. “Sorta. Like I said, it’s been a while. If you took me with you, I’m sure I could find it again.”

Places like that are dangerous; I don’t think I want to drag her into this. Then again, she might be able to weasel information out of people who wouldn’t give me or Luce the time of day. “Let’s start looking, then.”

Chapter 7: The Drinking Job

August 22, 1929

It had taken them three days’ worth of driving around Manhattan to find Horizon Cave, since Daphne’s memories of the place had been extremely fuzzy. On Wednesday, someone had vandalized the car, leaving a long scratch on the side; Luciola found himself twitching whenever he thought about it. There was no time to get it fixed.

On Thursday night, they started preparations. As Luciola changed into a new suit, one with more hidden pockets for his knives, Dio strolled in. He had just washed and dried his hair, and it shone faintly in the light. “I don’t see why we have to get changed for this.”

“It’s supposed to be an upscale place.” Luciola cast a significant glance at Dio’s wrinkled gray slacks. Those would stand out like a sore thumb.

Dio sighed and reached past him for another pair of pants. “Fine, fine.” Luciola took a step back, careful not to touch him.

They were almost ready when Dio reached out and laid a hand on Luciola’s shoulder. “Hold still.”

He shivered. “Sir?”

“You’ve got lint…”

As Dio brushed it off, Luciola tried not to shiver. Ever since Alister’s party, he had been careful not to come into direct contact with Dio. Why? Why is this happening to me? Dio’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, and he swallowed hard. It’s ridiculous—apart from anything else, he’s my boss! It’s so wrong of me to be feeling like this. And if I didn’t know better, I’d almost say he’s encouraging it.

“There. It’s off.” Mercifully, Dio stepped back, allowing Luciola to breathe again. He reached for a pair of black gloves in the drawer, and Dio raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think those will be necessary?”

“Yes.” Speakeasies aren’t exactly known for being quiet places. In fact… “What about you, sir?”

Dio pulled off his jacket and reached into the back of the closet with a sigh. “I guess we can’t be too careful. Do you think this will be enough?” He drew out a revolver in a shoulder holster, small enough to be nearly invisible as long as he kept his jacket on over it.

“That should be fine.” Luciola made sure to grab his hat on the way out. If Miss Forrester actually does send cops, I don’t want any of them getting a good look at my face.

Dio was strangely quiet during the ride to Daphne’s building, so much so that Luciola was almost worried. Is he nervous? No, that’s not like him. He’s probably just tired; it’s almost nine, after all, and we were up early today.

Daphne slung herself into the backseat, grinning. She was wearing the same dress she had worn to Alister’s party; Luciola suspected it was the best one she owned. “Hi!” She caught sight of Dio’s face and frowned. “Hey, boss. You okay? You look like someone just killed your pet kitty or something.”

Dio blinked at her. “What? No, I’m fine.”

She sighed. “If you say so…”

They drove on through the twisting streets to Horizon Cave.

&

On the outside, it looked like a normal restaurant. The doors were shut tight to keep the air conditioning in, and there was a menu propped up against the wall. As they entered, the waiter gave them a skeptical glance, with much of his disdain seemingly reserved for Dio’s hair. “Can I help you?”

Daphne smiled politely. “Yes. We’d like a table for three, please.”

“Ah. And where would you like to be seated?”

“Oh…beyond the stars, if you could.”

The waiter’s eyebrow twitched, but he obligingly began to lead them into the back of the restaurant, around a corner and through a locked door. Dio’s mind whirled as he walked, and the gun at his side suddenly felt heavier. Beyond the stars? That’s part of Delphine’s password. Does she really own this place, or is it just a coincidence?

The illegal part of Horizon Cave was much more crowded than the legal one. A small band—a cellist, a saxophonist, and a pretty girl hired more for her physique than her vocal abilities—provided music for the patrons. The round tables scattered throughout the room were all packed, but there was space at the bar. The waiter slipped out of the room, leaving them alone in the crowd. There was a familiar head of red hair visible through the crowd, and Dio nudged Daphne with his elbow. “Is that Lavie?”

She followed his line of sight. “I think it is. What’s she doing here, and who’s that guy she’s with?”

Indeed, the dark-haired man by her side was definitely not Claus. Dio blinked. A friend? I thought she and Claus were together…they certainly gave off that impression. I guess I was wrong. The man leaned closer to talk to her; from this distance, Dio couldn’t make out the words. Whoever he is, he’s planning on being much more than a friend.

Luciola sighed. “We can’t avoid her; she’s sitting at a table right next to the bar.”

Lavie stared at them as they approached. She was blushing, which intensified as Dio greeted her. “Hey, Lavie. This guy a friend of yours?”

She looked from the man—who, Dio was pleased to notice, looked terrified—to Dio, sighed, and nodded. “Mullin Shetland, this is Dio Eraclea, Luciola Beretta, and Daphne Korakos. They’re investigating the Hamilton kidnappings, although I have no idea what they’re doing here.”

Daphne grinned. “We decided to take a break. We’ve been working hard lately! What about you and Mr. Shetland here?”

Mullin went red. “Umm…well…”

Lavie jumped in smoothly. “We’ve only just met.” She rattled the ice in her empty glass. “Mullin, could you get me another one of these?” As he left, she glared at them. “Why is it any business of yours who I drink with?”

From the smell of alcohol, she’s already had a few drinks. I’d better be careful. “Well, nothing really. It’s just that we thought you and Claus were an item.”

She snorted. “We would be, if that stupid dame—what’s her name? Tatiana—hadn’t been so damn flirty with him at that party. She’s called him nearly every day since then! ‘Just to chat,’ she says. And Claus—he just sits there like a lump and talks to her, all calm and rational like he has no clue she’s interested in him.” She rubbed her temples. “I had to get out of the house, so I came here. I figured a drink or two might help.”

Luciola had been scanning the room intently, seemingly not paying attention to the conversation. Now he spoke. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. We’ll be going now.” Dio bumped into Mullin on his way back to his table.

There was space in the corner, just enough for all three of them to stand and talk closely. Dio spoke first. “Daphne, could you do us a favor?”

She snapped to attention; she had been checking out a blond man at a table on the other side of the room, trying to make eye contact. “Yeah, boss?”

He smiled. “Go mingle. See if you can find out who runs this place. We have other stuff to do.”

She ambled away through the crowd, incidentally making a beeline for the blond at his table. Dio turned to Luciola. “What do you say we go have a drink?”

Luciola might have smiled, but in the dim, smoky bar Dio couldn’t be sure. “That sounds like a plan.”

&

The bartender barely glanced at them. “Whaddaya gonna have?”

Luciola blinked, briefly taken aback by his rude manner. I suppose the patrons here aren’t in the business of leaving tips. “Is there any Nebbiolo? Or Sangiovese, if you’ve got any.” (1.)

The bartender met his request with a blank stare. “Red or white?”

He sighed. My opinion of this place wasn’t very high to begin with, but this is just absurd. Some ‘upscale establishment’ this is. “Red, please.”

Dio leaned his elbows on the bar. “And a martini for me.”

Their drinks were brought, and the bartender left to service other customers. Luciola sipped his wine cautiously and nearly spat it out at the bitter taste. “Eurgh.” I asked for wine, not vinegar!

Dio shifted in his seat, moving closer to him. “Not that great, huh? Should we go make a call to Sophia? There’s a pay phone on the wall over there.”

Luciola settled himself against the bar, facing the rest of the room. Over there…oh, no. He almost dropped his glass in shock. “Sir…we have to leave soon. Hurry and finish your drink.”

Dio stared up at him, uncomprehending. “Why?”

He drew closer, careful to keep his voice low. He was very close to Dio’s ear, but he made himself ignore the way his heart was racing at their proximity. “That man in the blue suit sitting down with Daphne—see him, next to the blond? He’s Sicilian—mafia. The brother of someone your sister ordered taken care of. I handled it.”

Dio nodded. “Okay.” He stood up, carefully setting his drink down. “I’ll go call Miss Forrester.”

Luciola watched him go. Whatever connections Miss Forrester has with those cops had better be good. If that man sees me and starts a fight in here…we might wind up with more than we bargained for.

As it happened, he didn’t need to wait for the man to see him. Apparently, he knew Mullin, because as soon as they saw each other he started yelling. The argument quickly escalated, and Luciola watched as the man’s girlfriend started screaming verbal abuse at Lavie, who responded in kind. He noted with relief that the blond man by Daphne’s side had taken her arm and was gently motioning for her to leave; she soon vanished through the door that led back to the restaurant.

The cops arrived just after Lavie threw a chair at the combatants.

&

Everything around him was chaos. Dio heard a cop shouting angrily. Someone fired a gun, and a woman screamed. At this, the crowd surged forward onto the arriving police officers, who fought back with batons and fists. The band and the bartender had vanished—where, Dio wasn’t sure. Luciola was still sitting at the bar, and Dio elbowed a fleeing man in the ribs to get closer to him. Luciola. I can’t leave without him. It looks like Miss Forrester came through for us, but if the cops catch us, there won’t be enough influence in the world to get us out of the slammer. Someone rushing past shoved him to the floor. A woman stomped on his hand, and he cried out in pain.

Slowly, he was able to stagger to his feet. His back hurt, and his hat had fallen off in the crowd. Damn it. Where’s… His eyes flickered over the room, finally spotting Luciola at the bar. He was standing, apparently searching for him. Luciola! He scrambled through the crowd.

The man from before also spotted Luciola, and advanced on him rapidly. With horror, Dio saw that he was holding a long knife. From the way Luciola was still frantically scanning the crowd, Dio realized he was oblivious to the man’s advance. Oh, my God. If I don’t do something, he’ll die. But what? I can’t call out to him—there’s no way my voice could carry through all this. Wait. He stopped and slowly reached into his jacket. The gun felt heavier than ever.

As Luciola finally turned to see the man with the knife, Dio squeezed the trigger. The man dropped with a cry of pain, and Dio sprinted forward. Luciola’s eyes lit up as he saw him. “Dio, are you alright?”

He shivered. “I—yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” That was so nerve-wracking. I’ve never killed anyone with a gun before. It’s certainly less messy than Luciola’s kills. But the way he fell… Dio stopped shaking. Strangely, he realized he felt calm. The first time I’ve ever killed to protect someone…to protect Luciola, instead of him protecting me. It feels good.

On the way out, he reached behind the bar and stole two small flasks of something he hoped was alcoholic. Can’t let it go to waste, after all.

Sometime during their way out of the building, Luciola grabbed his hand. Dio’s fingers stayed locked around his all the way.

&

They found Daphne waiting several blocks away. Not entirely to Luciola’s surprise, she hugged them both out of sheer relief, and she didn’t stop talking all the way back to her place. She was still chattering—Luciola suspected she was mildly hysterical—when they dropped her off. Once she was safely out of the car and out of earshot, Luciola turned to Dio. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Dio sighed, holding one of the bottles he had stolen up to a streetlight in hopes of deciphering the label. “I’m fine.” He paused, reaching up to pat his hair. “I lost my hat, though. Can we go buy another one tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

When they finally returned home, Dio plunked himself down on the couch and held up the flasks triumphantly. “Hey, look what I got! Genuine Russian vodka! Want some?”

A drink, now? Vodka wouldn’t have been my first choice, but after what we’ve just been through… “Sure.”

He tossed Luciola the other flask and unscrewed his, taking a cautious sip. “It’s not bad.”

Later—much later, judging by his watch—Luciola blinked at his mostly-empty flask. His head felt fuzzy, and he was sure that any attempt to get off the couch would result in him falling over. Dio was leaning heavily against his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was slightly slurred. “Hey…hey, Luce? ‘M really glad you’re safe. I was scared in there.”

He was afraid for me? I could have handled myself. Luciola made the mistake of turning to face him. Staring directly into Dio’s half-lidded eyes, he promptly forgot what he was going to say. “Hmmm.” He’s so close…were his eyelashes always this long?

Dio apparently took this as a sign of disbelief. “Yeah! Because I really like you, Luce.”

He…what? What should I say? If he had been sober, Luciola would never have opened his mouth. Even as he started to speak, he was aware that the rational part of his brain was all but screaming for him to shut up. “Me too.”

“That’s good.” Dio leaned closer. Luciola realized he was holding his breath as the younger boy pressed his lips to his. As Dio made a satisfied little humming noise in the back of his throat, Luciola returned the kiss.

Dio was grinning when he broke away, and he was still smiling as he laid his head on Luciola’s shoulder and drifted off to sleep. Luciola was frozen to his seat. I just…I just kissed him. Maybe he won’t remember it in the morning? Please God don’t let him remember it in the morning. I can blame it on the booze, if he does. Yes, that sounds like a plan. In a brief flash of sobriety, he realized that passing out on the couch would be a bad idea, so he stood up and stumbled into the bedroom, where he promptly fell asleep. He’d worry about it in the morning.

&

Chapter 8: The Determined Job

August 23, 1929

Before he even opened his eyes, Dio knew he had a splitting headache. Aaaaugh… Attempting to roll over—he was lying on his back, probably on the couch—added nausea to the list. Damn it. I hate hangovers. He cracked open one eye. Although a faint but definite odor of tobacco smoke lingered in the room and on his clothes, the two empty vodka flasks from the night before were still lying on the floor, so he knew Luciola wasn’t up yet. Slowly, he got to his feet and staggered to the bathroom to throw up. He felt better afterwards, as he brushed his teeth, but only a little. Footsteps from the bedroom caught his attention, so he stuck his head through the door. “Luce?”

“Hmm.” Luciola was in the kitchen, attempting to make coffee. He already had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and did not turn around to face Dio. “Morning.”

He must have an even worse hangover than me. Dio stumbled over to him. “You okay?” The smoke didn’t bother him; then again, it never had.

He laid a hand on his arm, and Luciola jerked away. “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

Why won’t he look at me? “Luciola, last night…” Did something happen? I can’t remember.

The older boy went red, but was saved from having to answer by the sound of a knock on the door. Dio winced at the noise, but nevertheless answered the door. Daphne waltzed in, humming cheerfully. “Good morning! How’ve you guys been?”

He cringed. “Not so loud…”

She glanced around the room, taking in the men’s exhausted faces as well as the empty flasks they hadn’t cleaned up yet. “So that was what you had under your jacket when we left. I hadn’t noticed.” She studied Dio’s face and sighed. “I’ll make something nice and greasy for you before I start work; I’m still organizing the files the guy before you left here.” (1.)

She made eggs and hash browns, and was smiling as she poured them each a cup of coffee; as his headache subsided, Dio found he couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Why are you in such a good mood today?”

Daphne fairly beamed at him. “Danny called me last night! He wanted to make sure I got home safe.”

Luciola blinked at her. “Who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you listening in the car last night? Daniel Scarpariello. He told me he’s an archeologist—isn’t that cool? He specializes in ancient Greece, and he’s saving up money to actually travel there again. The guys he was with were his cousin’s friends.” She paused. “I told him I’ve been to Greece—it’s not so great. Really dry.”

The hours drifted by. Dio challenged Luciola to a game of chess, made frustrating by the older boy’s inability to look him in the eye without blushing. As they reset the board for another game, his fingers brushed against Dio’s, and he dropped the rook he was holding. Dio frowned. What is the matter with him today? All we did was drink last night…right?

His train of thought was derailed by the phone ringing. Daphne answered it. “Hello, Beretta and Eraclea Private Investigators Office, Daphne Korakos speaking. Who is this?…Oh, Miss Forrester!…Congratulations. Okay, sure…yes, I’ll tell them right away. See you soon.” She hung up. “That was Miss Sophia. She wants us to come over to City Hall so she can talk to us about the raid on Horizon Cave.”

Dio shivered, though the day was hot. Horizon Cave…where I shot a man last night. I hope she doesn’t know about that—and that she gives us the information we need to save Alvis’ parents.

&

Luciola’s driving was almost erratic, so acutely aware was he of Dio’s presence at his elbow. I kissed him. I kissed him last night, and he doesn’t remember a thing. Thank God, he doesn’t remember.

The guard from their last visit was still on duty at the gate; he smiled genially at them as he waved them in. There was a different secretary inside—a black girl who barely looked at them as she confirmed their appointment. “You’re on the list. Take the elevator all the way up.”

Sophia was pacing back and forth in her office as they entered. When she saw them, she stopped and returned to her desk chair. “It’s good to see you all again. Did you take something for your hangovers?”

Luciola paled. “Excuse me?” Did someone see us there? If the police recognize me…

She smiled slightly. “Well, since you were investigating a bar…” She shrugged. “It seems congratulations are in order for you. Thanks to your brilliant investigative work, we’ve managed to arrest the man who claimed to be the owner of Horizon Cave.”

Dio raised an eyebrow. “’Claimed to be?’ Then where’s the actual owner?”

Her smile disappeared, and her eyes narrowed. “Under pressure from Deputy Chief Alzey at the NYPD, he named the real owner. It seems that the deed to the building is held by someone you know very well, Mr. Eraclea.” (2.)

A chill crept down Luciola’s spine. Miss Forrester can’t be talking about her, can she? “It doesn’t matter who the owner of Horizon Cave is now that the place is shut down. We originally came to you for help finding Miss Hamilton’s parents. What can you give us on that?”

“Ah, yes.” Sophia sighed. “We discovered that letters had been sent to the Hamiltons—letters which threatened violence against them if certain demands were not met. The demands were rather vague, but the sender of the letters was not. Tell me, Mr. Beretta…what do you know of a man called Joe Soldati?”

Luciola lit a cigarette. His attempt to appear nonchalant was ruined only slightly by his shaking hands. Uncle Joe? The man who helped train me to be Dio’s bodyguard? He can’t even read English, never mind write it. There’s no way he sent those letters. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“He works for your brother. And your brother works for Delphine Eraclea.” She met Dio’s gaze, and he shivered. “We’ve spoken to Mr. Soldati, but he wouldn’t talk. From all accounts, he couldn’t have acted on his own; your sister would never have allowed it. I wonder, Mr. Eraclea…would you allow something like that to go on without at least demanding a cut of the profits?”

Daphne flinched. “They’re here, talking to you! They made your job easier! They wouldn’t have done that if they were going to lose anything by it, so…Miss, please. Don’t accuse them.”

Dio had gone very pale, and had instinctively reached for Luciola’s hand. He, forgetting his self-imposed order to stay away from him, took it. “So the Eraclea family was threatening the Hamiltons—what do you want us to do about it? If Dio goes back there, he’ll likely be killed.” I won’t let that happen. No…I can’t let that happen.

“I’m afraid you might not have to go to them. According to an informant of ours, the owner of Horizon Cave is your sister Delphine. If there was concrete proof, your sister would already be behind bars, but there wasn’t and she isn’t. Certain contacts of mine have indicated that she’s looking for the people who organized the raid.” She paused. “That would be you. Of course, if you worked more closely with us, we could certainly protect you from her.”

Oh, my God, no. After what Dio said—that we’d be safer if we were closer to her, that she wouldn’t think to look in Manhattan—we’ve pointed her right in our direction. There’s nowhere to run now. Luciola took a deep drag on his cigarette to calm himself. It didn’t work.

Sophia met Dio’s eyes again. “What are you going to do, Mr. Eraclea?”

&

Dio stared at her, uncomprehending. He felt as though his world was crumbling around him, all except Luciola’s hand in his. My sister…if she’s hunting me, she won’t stop until she’s found me. Nowhere in the city is safe—the city? Not even the rest of the country. I could ship out to Alaska tomorrow and she’d still track me down. And once she has me… He shuddered, remembering the last man who had tried to leave her service. I don’t know exactly what she did, and I don’t want to know. He was…a vegetable. Whatever she did to him destroyed his mind.

Daphne saw the color drain out of his face and laid a concerned hand on his shoulder. “Dio? Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”

He blinked at her. Daphne… “It’s my sister. She…she’s not…”

Luciola abruptly pulled his hand out of Dio’s grip and stubbed his cigarette out on Sophia’s desk. “Mr. Eraclea and his sister have nothing to do with each other. If you’re as well-connected as you appear to be—if you knew even half of what’s been done on her orders, you’d know better than to threaten him with her. You think offering to keep him safe will turn out well for you? She’s had cops killed; even your fiancé wouldn’t be safe if she came after him.”

Sophia raised one eyebrow. “Threaten him?’ I’m offering to keep him safe from her. If you help us, we can make you disappear, and she’ll never find you. Your brother is her bodyguard; surely you have some information that could get her locked up.”

No. I can’t let her kill more people. “I can’t help you, and I can’t run away.”

Sophia glared at him. “If she’s so dangerous that you’re truly in fear for your life, then why are you so determined not to accept my help? I can assign you bodyguards, put you under police surveillance…”

That won’t stop her. It’ll just be a waste of life to send police after her now. “She’ll kill you. Besides, I don’t plan to disappear.” I can’t afford to be afraid of her anymore.

Luciola turned to stare at him, clearly stunned. “You mean you’re going to oppose Delphine?”

Dio felt himself begin to smile. With him by my side… “Yes. Yes, I will.” It’ll be hard, but I think I can do it.

As they left, Sophia groaned and rested her head in her hands. Deep in her heart, she prayed they would succeed, but she knew that without police backup, the chances of that were slim.

&

At Daphne’s request, they dropped her off at the office before going out again to find a mechanic to fix the scratch in Luciola’s car. They stopped for lunch beforehand, at a cheap little diner that nevertheless served fairly decent food.

Luciola tore into his hamburger when it arrived at the table, thankful for the opportunity to avoid talking to Dio. If he fights Delphine, she won’t hesitate to kill him. I won’t let that happen, even if I have to die first.

Dio set his chicken sandwich down and leaned closer to Luciola. “You’ve been really quiet ever since I told Miss Sophia I’d rather deal with my sister without her help. Are you worried or something?”

He swallowed, using the pause this gave him to choose his words before finally speaking. “…Sir, I don’t understand why you’ve suddenly chosen to face her. Didn’t we originally move to avoid doing that?”

The younger boy gritted his teeth. “I’m seventeen years old; I’m not a child for her to push around anymore. If I’m old enough to kill on her orders, I’m old enough to stand up to her. From the sound of it, she’s standing between us and the successful resolution of our case, so we have to take her down.”

That’s right…we owe it to Alvis to find her parents. Going through Delphine won’t be easy, but there might not be a way around it if she’s been having the Hamiltons threatened. “Sir, I know you want to be rid of her, but please remember to be careful. You’ve seen too well what she can do.”

Dio sighed and returned to his sandwich, nodding in acknowledgement. They continued their meal in silence until he spoke up again. “Hey, you think I could learn to cook like Daphne did this morning? It’d be good for the next time we get drunk.” He paused. “What did we do last night, anyway?”

Luciola choked on his soda. (3.) Damn him and his curiosity. “You…don’t remember?”

He shook his head slowly. “It’s mostly a blur after we started drinking. I must have gotten really plastered.” He winced. “I didn’t get drunk enough to start singing, did I?”

I wish that had been all he did. He felt his face heat up at the memory of soft lips on his, and strong fingers gripping his arms. “I’m afraid I was fairly intoxicated as well. I can’t remember a thing.” Please let him believe it. At least let him drop the subject.

Dio raised an eyebrow. “You hardly ever get that drunk. That must have been strong stuff.”

He tried to feign calm. “It was.” Does he see through me? No, I don’t think he does. Maybe he’ll forget about it later… I don’t think I’ll be able to do the same.

“Hmmm.”

They eventually left the diner without exchanging another word.

Chapter 9: The Killing Job

August 24, 1929

It was late by the time they got back from dinner. Luciola dropped Dio off in front of the door and drove around for what felt like hours trying to find a parking spot. The only one to be found was several blocks away, but it would have to do. As he got out of the car and locked the door behind him, four men approached him from where they had been loitering against the wall. They were all sharply dressed—suspiciously so, considering the neighborhood.

One of them, a dark-haired man in an outlandishly tacky tie, addressed him. “Sai, al capo non piace che ‘sa non aiuterai.”

Luciola blinked at him. Did Delphine send this…person? “Scusa, signore. Li non capisco.” (1.)

Another man sneered at him. “You know what we’re talking about. The boss ain’t too fond of you right now, boy. Did you really think you could run away from your job?”

His eyes narrowed. Ah, now I know who these people are. “And what job are you referring to? I have more than one.”

A redheaded man took a step closer to him; he held his ground. “The one where you bump off Giacomo DeNonno. Since you weren’t around, she had to send out Louie instead—the moron almost got caught by the cops on the way out, and now the DiMarcos are onto us.”

“…So?”

The man twitched in rage before apparently regaining his composure. “Listen, buddy. The boss thinks you’re valuable enough to keep around, so she sent us with an offer for you.”

Luciola pulled a pair of black gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. He was immensely gratified to see a few of the men take a step back. “I’m listening.”

A man with wavy brown hair and the bulge of a gun under his jacket spoke up. “She misses her brother. She’ll give you a big reward if you can…persuade him to come back, know what I’m talking about?”

A reward? I’d be sending him to his death, or worse. As his bodyguard, I… He shut his eyes briefly. No, as his friend, I can’t do it. His eyes snapped open. “You may tell Miss Eraclea that I must respectfully decline her offer.” He reached into another pocket, palming one of his switchblades. “It’s been nice talking to you. ArrivederLa.” (2.)

The brown-haired man shot first; it went into the redhead’s arm as Luciola sidestepped and rushed him, slicing up his face and throat. As he jerked out of the way of the blood, the injured man went for him with a knife of his own, only to have it fall to the ground as Luciola cut his throat. The dark-haired man just missed him with a brass-knuckled punch that left him wide open to a blade between the shoulders. The last one had a gun; his shot went wide as Luciola dodged and lunged forward, gutting him.

Finally, Luciola stood alone. He was breathing hard and sweating; his clothes were splattered with blood. Oh, God. A light went on in an upstairs apartment, and he winced. I should leave before the police arrive. He was careful not to step in any of the pools of blood as he ran home.

When he came in, miraculously without being seen, Dio was listening to the radio. Before he could open his mouth to explain, the younger boy had grabbed his shoulders. “Luciola?! Are you hurt?”

Luciola shook his head. His heart was pounding from stress—the fight, as well as Dio’s close proximity. “I’m fine. I—I need to take a shower.”

He broke away, ignoring Dio’s protest as he dove for the bathroom. As he stripped and ran the water for his shower, he began to calm down. I can’t tell him. It was hot enough to steam up the mirror by the time he stepped in. No matter how brave he thinks he is, no matter how determined he is to fight Delphine, if he learns she’s actively hunting him…he’ll collapse. I know him better than anyone. If we’re to work together to find Alvis’ parents, I need him to not be consumed by fear.

He slumped against the wall, feeling the peeling paint shift under his back. Oh, God. What did I do that you keep sending me these trials? There was blood under his nails still. Oh. That.

He stayed under the spray until the hot water ran out.

August 26, 1929

Dio sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Luciola was barely speaking to him; they hadn’t exchanged more than ten consecutive words since Friday, and that had been when they were buying him a new hat. Did I do something to get him angry? I don’t think so…maybe while I was drunk that night? Argh, I wish I could remember better. No matter how much he wracked his brain for memories, he drew a near-total blank. All I can really recall was the smoke on my clothes, but we were in a crowded bar and everyone was smoking, so that doesn’t mean anything. And he won’t even let me hug him anymore…he never used to mind when I did that.

Daphne was flipping through old papers, occasionally stopping to scribble notes. He glanced over at her. Well, I don’t have anyone else to ask… “Hey, Daphne. If your best friend suddenly started to treat you like you had the plague, what would you think happened?”

She met his eyes with a faint smile. “Is this about Mr. Beretta?”

He felt his face heat up. “How’d you know?”

She shrugged. “Well, since you’re only ever with him, I figured it couldn’t be anyone else. I obviously don’t know him well enough to guess what he’s normally like, but he’s been quiet as a mouse these past few days when it comes to you. You might try talking to him about it.”

“I would, but…”

The door opened, bringing an end to their conversation as Luciola entered the room with a bag of groceries. “I’m back.”

Dio tried to catch his eye, but Luciola was preoccupied with the groceries. “Did you remember the milk?”

“Yes.”

Time drifted by without a further word from anyone in the room. Fed up with Luciola’s monosyllabic answers to all his attempts to start a conversation, Dio put the radio on, changing stations until he found one playing jazz specifically to annoy the older boy as he tried to read the paper. He had started to twitch in irritation when Daphne gasped in shock.

“Guys! Check this out!” She motioned to a tattered piece of paper on her desk, previously hidden under a stack of similar scraps.

When Dio leaned over her shoulder, he could make out the word “Confidential” in blurry type at the top. “What’s this?”

“Well, the typewriter they used on this must have been broken, but from what I can make out, it’s a report written by someone who worked on the Hamiltons’ new miracle drug. The guy was concerned about the effects—seems the painkiller was a bit too effective.” At Dio’s raised eyebrow, she elaborated. “Caused general numbness and loss of sensation, lethargy, and euphoria. And according to this, the animals they tested it on showed withdrawal symptoms when they didn’t get enough of it.”

Luciola frowned. “So if Delphine found out how to make this…medicine, the alcohol she sold would be even more in demand, and she’d be assured of a steady consumer base as long as she could keep making a supply.”

Dio blinked at him. “’Consumer base?’ ‘Supply and demand?’ Where did you get…Never mind. I know you’re the kind of person who reads the Wall Street Journal for fun.”

Daphne sat back in her seat and sighed. “So then we’re working on the assumption that Delphine—Dio’s sister—is in fact the kidnapper of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, and that they are still alive?”

The blond nodded. “She has the motives—financial gain, not to mention that they kept finding her speakeasies and having them raided. And she’s certainly capable of it.”

Dio shivered. She’s capable of more than that. I hope she hasn’t already gotten the information she needed and killed them. I don’t want to have to tell Alvis we failed.

Daphne saw him and laid a comforting hand on his. “Your sister must be really scary, huh? But you don’t have to worry; we’ll get enough evidence to put her in prison and keep you two out.”

For the first time in four days, Dio met Luciola’s eyes; he saw worry there for a moment before it was replaced by steely resolve. If Luciola is worried, then…no, I can’t start thinking like this now. We’ll get through this together. I just need him to start talking to me again…Hmm, now how can I manage that? An idea occurred to him, and he almost smiled. If he won’t talk to me on his own, I’ll just have to make him talk.

&

They went out to an Italian restaurant that night. The waiters seemed nervous and edgy, and they spoke among themselves in a dialect Luciola didn’t understand. His mind kept returning to the obituaries in the morning paper—four men of vaguely Southern European extraction found murdered on 32nd Street. All those gangsters had criminal records, so it doesn’t sound like they’ll investigate too closely. Still, I should try to stay out of trouble for a while.

On the ride home, Dio laid his hand over the one Luciola wasn’t using to drive; it took nearly all his concentration to hold still and ignore his suddenly-racing heart. He’s so warm, and so close…why is he doing this? “Dio?”

He stared at the passing cars, pointedly avoiding his questioning glance. “There’s something going on with you; I can tell. When we get home…we have to talk. That means you’d better be contributing more than three words to the conversation, okay?”

Luciola pulled his hand away. I don’t want to. I don’t want to talk about that night. Whenever I even think about it… He made a show of checking the rearview mirror to hide his blush. I almost feel as if I want to do it again, but that’s ridiculous. Maybe if I come up with a better lie, he’ll drop it? Or I could blame it on something else, say I’ve had a bad headache or something. He might believe that; God knows he’s caused enough of them. “As you wish.”

As they pulled into a parking spot across the street from their apartment, Luciola sensed something off. Is that curtain in our window moving? I could have sworn I closed it this morning. He nearly sprinted to the door, Dio following close behind him. As he charged up the stairs, his sense of dread increased; what actually lay beyond the door made him gasp.

The office had been broken into and ransacked. Every cushion in the couch had been slashed, as had the one on the chair. All the drawers in the desk had been pulled out and emptied; papers were scattered over the floor. A landscape that had hung on the wall had been thrown in the trash for no apparent reason except pure malice. Miraculously, the safe under the desk was dented but not bashed open; the Thompson was still safe.

Dio checked the kitchen. “The bastards even took the groceries.” Luciola followed him, wincing at the bare refrigerator. One of the chairs had been broken, and the money—twenty dollars—he had kept in the freezer was gone.

The bedroom was worse. The mattress had been cut open in multiple places, and the sheets were soiled and torn. A check of the closet revealed that all of Luciola’s and Dio’s most expensive-looking suits and shirts had been taken. The nightstand had been searched, and Dio’s gun was gone. The worst blow, however, was when Dio checked the various spots they had hidden the rest of their money; every last cent had been discovered and stolen. As a final, mocking gesture, an hourglass—Delphine’s personal symbol—had been left on the table, leaving no doubt as to the perpetrators’ identities.

Finally, Luciola sat on the edge of the ruined bed, utterly spent. Everything’s gone. The food, the money…we’ll starve. And that’s if Delphine doesn’t get bored trying to intimidate us and decide to just kill us instead. Normally, he did not curse, but something of this magnitude could not be expressed any other way. “…Merda.” (3.)

A groan came from where Dio had flopped down on the floor. “I don’t know what you said, but I agree. Luciola, what are we going to do?”

He stared at the ceiling for a long while, thinking. Finally, he spoke. “First, we should clean up, try to cover the worst damage. Then…” He trailed off. Then what? We need money. It hurts, but… “I could pawn my knives. They should bring in a little cash, enough to get us by the next few days. After that…”

Dio stood up, only to sink down on the bed and wrap his arms around him. Luciola stiffened, barely daring to breathe as the younger boy rested his head on his shoulder. “Sir?”

His voice did not shake. “No. Keep your knives. We’ll need them if we’re going to fight her. There’s no way she’d go to lengths like this if she wasn’t afraid we were onto something. I’m surprised; this is pretty tame for her.”

Luciola swallowed hard. After this…after all this, he’s still holding up. I don’t think I can keep it from him anymore. “Actually, sir, on Saturday…” He told him what had happened, sparing the more gory details.

He did not, as Luciola had feared, react to the news with terror. Instead, he pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. “I’ll be fine. With you by my side, we’ll take Delphine down.”

Oh, Dio. You have that much faith in me? He shuddered and stood up, beginning the long and arduous task of repairing some of the worst damage. If you knew my thoughts when I’m near you, I don’t think you’d feel the same way.

&

Chapter 10: The Explaining Job

August 27, 1929

They had passed the night on the office floor—neither of them had really wanted to go near what was left of the mattress. Most of the damage had been easy to fix; all Dio had had to do was put the drawers back in the desk and get the papers into some kind of order. Searching the floor had revealed a note in Greek, the gist of which was “If you don’t keep your nose out of the Hamilton case, it won’t be your cushions we cut up next time.” Luciola went downstairs to tell the landlord, only to learn that he was utterly uninterested in helping them.

Upon arrival, Daphne had taken one look at the damage before turning on her heel and leaving, muttering something about stitching and needing more thread. Dio felt bad for her. She hasn’t even seen the mess they made of our bedroom yet. Fortunately, Luciola was able to patch up most of the more damaged furniture with tape.

Eventually, Dio sat down at the desk, in the one chair that hadn’t been slashed. Luciola was trying to fix the couch. He had partially unbuttoned his shirt due to the heat, and Dio’s eyes kept returning to his back. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. I shouldn’t be doing this. He can’t even look at me lately; if he knew I was checking him out, he’d be horrified. All this tension between us…I have to talk to him. “Hey, Luce? Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been working hard all morning, and you look like you could use a rest.”

Luciola sighed and sunk onto the couch, facing him. With annoyance, Dio realized the older boy was avoiding his gaze again. What’s the matter with him? “That’s better, right? Now that you’re all comfy, I’d like to talk to you.”

Luciola did make eye contact now, as Dio left his seat and came over to sit next to him. “…Yes, sir?”

There he goes again. He only calls me ‘sir’ when he’s upset about something. “Thursday night, after the raid on Horizon Cave, we came back here with two bottles of vodka and drank one each. Ever since, you’ve been treating me like I have the plague. Why?”

Strangely, Luciola’s face turned red. “Umm…”

Is he blushing? Dio edged closer until their hips touched. Hmmm, I think he is. Interesting. “You won’t even look me in the eyes, never mind touch me like you usually do. Very suspicious, considering that you claim not to have any memory of that night.” He felt his own face heat up, but it was a question that had to be asked. “Did one of us…did we do something that night?”

Luciola looked away, staring at his hands instead. “Sir, I…”

The door burst open. It was Daphne, carrying bags of thread and fabric. “Sorry I took so long! I had to get these from home.”

Dio groaned inwardly. So close…I was so close to finding out what happened. “That’s okay.”

She shooed them off the couch and went to work, ignoring their half-hearted offers of help. By the time a knock sounded on the door several hours later, the upholstery almost looked presentable again.

Dio and Luciola glanced at each other. Who could that be? “Come in…”

The door opened.

&

Claus and Lavie stepped in, followed closely by Alvis. The little girl was still clutching her stuffed goat tightly. Claus looked around curiously. “Did something happen here?”

Luciola sighed. I suppose we didn’t clean up as well as we thought. “Good afternoon, Mr. Valca. What brings you here?”

“Umm, well…” He cast a nervous glance at the newly-restored couch before sitting down. “We were wondering how the case was going.”

Lavie took a seat next to him, and Luciola wasn’t too surprised to see her twine her fingers through his. I suppose they made up, then. “Quite well, really.”

The redheaded girl’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean? Do you know who took Alvis’ parents?”

Dio sighed. “We suspect that it may be a woman by the name of Delphine Eraclea. Apparently, she didn’t like them trying to shut down certain illegal activities she was involved in, and she isn’t too happy with our investigation, either. She had our office robbed last night.”

Alvis spoke up. “…I remember my parents talking about her. They called her a really bad person. Mister, her last name is the same as yours. Are you related?”

Luciola shuddered. Oh, no. Not now; we can’t deal with this now. If she stops trusting us… He crouched down in front of her, putting himself at her eye level. “Miss Hamilton, they can’t be related. You said it yourself that Delphine is a bad person, right? But Dio’s a good person, someone who wants to help get your parents back. So how could they be related?”

Alvis nodded slowly. Lavie looked as though she wanted to say something, but the phone rang as she opened her mouth. Daphne answered it. “Hello, Beretta and Eraclea Private Investigators, Miss Korakos speaking…oh, Alis! It’s nice to hear from you again. How are things…fine, fine…Uh-huh…Wow, that’s strange. And you don’t know who sent it?…Ah. Well, I’m at work, so I’ll let you get ready, okay? Good luck!” She hung up. “Miss Agrew got a present recently. Someone sent her a bottle of booze with an hourglass label and no return address. Strange, isn’t it?”

Dio paled. “Did she say an hourglass?”

“Yeah, why?”

Luciola’s eyes widened. Delphine. “Call her back. Call her back now, and make sure she knows not to open that bottle. The hourglass is Delphine’s symbol, and whatever’s in that bottle is probably drugged.”

Claus’ eyes widened. “Drugged?”

Dio shivered before apparently regaining his composure. “Delphine has Alvis’ parents under her control, so she has access to all their most important information—including the new drug they were developing. It’s supposed to only be a painkiller, but apparently there are…side effects. Dangerous side effects.”

The phone rang again, and Daphne rolled her eyes. “Hello, Beretta and Eraclea…oh, Miss Forrester…You too?…Well, it’s just that Alister Agrew got one recently as well. An hourglass, right?…Don’t open it, whatever you do. Wait, Inspector Rowe?…I see. Okay, thank you for telling me.” When she hung up, her face was grim. “Miss Forrester and her fiancé got another bottle; so did the Rowes. Sophia is having them traced.”

Dio hugged himself, staring at his feet. “She won’t find Delphine. That woman hides her tracks too well.”

Lavie lit a cigarette and took a drag before speaking. “So, this Delphine…She’s someone to worry about, huh? Should we be taking up the cops’ offer of guarding us now?”

Luciola joined her in lighting up. The smoke helped him think. Hmm…Delphine already has a lot of officers in her pocket. They have about as much chance of getting a corrupt one as a clean one. If she hasn’t killed them yet, I doubt she’ll do it now…but it’s still a wise precaution. We need to keep Alvis safe. “You should contact them as soon as possible.”

Claus and Alvis stood up to leave, but Lavie stayed seated. “You go wait for the cab to come back. I’ll be down in a while, once I’ve finished this cigarette.”

The boy shrugged. “Okay. Come on, Al.”

As soon as they shut the door behind them, Lavie heaved a huge sight, blowing out a plume of smoke. “I really should thank you now. Claus doesn’t know I was out drinking on Thursday, and I’d like to keep it that way. Especially since the police showed up and everything.”

Luciola winced. She wouldn’t be too pleased if she learned we were the ones who called the cops. “You’re welcome.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And because I kind of owe you, I won’t bring up Dio’s relationship to Delphine in front of the cops. It seems like a conflict of interest to me.”

Luciola thought he could actually see Dio bristle. “It isn’t.”

“How can you be sure? She has your office robbed, she sends people toxic booze…how do we know she hasn’t intimidated you into dropping the case? If you ask me, you’re taking an awfully long time with your investigation…”

Luciola’s fists clenched, and then slowly relaxed. She doesn’t know. She has no idea what Delphine has done to me, to Dio…it’s a reasonable assumption to make. “We can’t afford to drop this case. All our money and food was stolen. If we don’t solve this, we don’t eat.”

Lavie blinked. “So it’s just for money, then? That’s why you won’t back down from this case?”

Daphne had returned to her paper-sorting, but now she looked up, meeting Lavie’s gaze. “It’s not just for money. I can’t speak for Mr. Beretta or Mr. Eraclea, but I want to help Alvis. She deserves to have her parents back, doesn’t she?”

For the first time since coming in the door, Lavie smiled. “Yeah, she does. You’d better get them back for her.” Her cigarette was mostly ash, so she let it fall into the ashtray and stood up. “I should go. Good luck.”

As she left, Daphne spoke up. “So…no money, huh?”

Luciola winced. “Of course, we’ll understand if you wish to terminate your employment with us.”

She snorted. “Are you kidding? That Delphine stole my paycheck; I have to help take her down.”

He sighed and took another drag on his cigarette. Well, the sentiment is appreciated, but I doubt she’ll be of much help. The only way to destroy her is to strike from the inside. He shivered as a thought occurred to him. To destroy her…I’ll have to kill her second-in-command. My brother.

&

By the time Daphne finally left, every last bit of upholstery had been repaired, the chairs had been patched up, and the bed had been sewn back together. The sheets had been stitched and laundered until the dirt and muck on them was a distant memory. Luciola and Dio had not spoken.

When she left, Luciola took a long shower. Dio, recognizing this for the stalling tactic it was, settled down on the couch with a copy of The Bishop Murder Case. (1.) He can’t avoid me forever. I need to find out what happened to make him so wary of me.

Eventually, Luciola stepped out of the bathroom. He was shirtless and toweling his hair dry. As he passed, Dio tossed his book aside and lunged up to grab his arm. “Hey, why don’t you sit down for a while? We never did get to finish our conversation.”

Luciola flushed a dull red and pulled his wrist out of Dio’s grasp. “Let me get dressed first.”

Dio sighed and watched him as he walked into the bedroom for a clean shirt and came back, buttoning it up neatly. “So, about that night…”

The older boy leaned against the desk and did not look at him. “What about it?”

Dio stood up to face him, glaring. “You know what happened. Tell me.”

Luciola took out a cigarette from the pack lying on the desk, but did not light it, instead twirling it between his fingers. “Sir, there really isn’t much to tell. We were both quite drunk at the time.”

Suddenly, Dio was angry. He’s lying. He’s not supposed to lie to me! He snatched the cigarette out of Luciola’s hand and broke it with his fingers, spilling tobacco on the carpet. “Luce, come on. Something must have happened, or you wouldn’t be avoiding me.”

Luciola’s eyes widened, and his blush returned in full force. “Mr. Eraclea…”

No. “Don’t call me that.” He drew closer and watched Luciola swallow nervously. “Did we have a fight? Or…” He trailed off as a memory drifted to the front of his mind—the taste of cigarette smoke and vodka, and a soft mouth on his. Is that it? Did I…kiss him? He felt his face grow hot. But then why… “You don’t normally think of me like that, do you? But if you were drunk, you might…”

Luciola closed his eyes briefly, trembling. Finally, he spoke. “Sir, I am afraid I acted rather dishonorably that night. As your bodyguard, I would rather not have that momentary lapse of judgment affect your opinion of me.”

Dishonorable? That’s all he can say? “Ever since then, you’ve barely spoken to me. I’d call that a lot more dishonorable than a kiss. Especially since you won’t even look at me. Am I that disgusting to you?” If he kissed me, he must be attracted to me on some level. But if I forced a kiss on him while we were drunk… He shivered. That sounds like something Delphine would do. I could understand him being upset if that was the case.

The older boy shook his head. “No…Dio, I—”

The phone rang, shrill and loud, cutting Luciola off. He glared at it, but picked it up nevertheless. “What?…You are an idiot. We’ll be right there.” He slammed the phone down, face twisting in rage. “That was Claus. Alvis has been kidnapped.”

What? But after all we’ve been though…didn’t they call the police? Or did Delphine just bribe the cops again? “Let’s go. You can tell me later.”

Chapter 11: The Planning Job

August 27, 1929

Following a hurried phone call to Claus to confirm his address, Luciola and Dio jumped into the car and sped off into the night. Dio sat in the back and did not speak to him, allowing Luciola to think. I can’t believe I almost told him how I feel… His fingers tightened on the wheel. I don’t want him to think I hate him. My feelings for him are nothing like that. If I told him… he would never look at me in the same way again. And if he doesn’t feel the same, I don’t think I could look him in the eye anymore.

Claus lived in a small apartment in Greenwich Village. (1.) The recently painted door had been ruined by a crowbar. A beefy man with an impressive moustache was pacing outside, smoking a cigar. He glared at the boys as they approached him. “You’re those detectives the kids hired?”

Luciola’s eyes narrowed. “Dio Eraclea and Luciola Beretta, at your service. And you, sir?”

The man’s features softened, and held out a hand for them to shake. “George Head. I’m Lavie’s dad.”

Luciola took it. This man’s built like a barn, and there’s not a scratch on him. “Where were you when Miss Hamilton was kidnapped?”

George sighed. “I’m the foreman at a construction site out in Brooklyn; I’ve actually been living in a hotel out there while the work’s going on. I stopped by for the weekend to check up on my daughter, make sure that boy isn’t getting ideas. Lavie and the kid just stepped out for groceries, and when they came back, the door was like this and Al was gone.”

He frowned. They left her alone? How stupid can two people be? I thought Lavie at least had more sense than that. “May we come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

The inside of the house Claus and Lavie shared with Alvis was small and well-kept. There had been a collection of family photographs on top of the radio, but they had been knocked over in an apparent struggle. Lavie was on the phone when they came in, arguing with someone—probably the police, Luciola thought.

Claus was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. He looked up when they drew closer. “Five minutes. We were gone for five minutes. She was gone when we came back.”

Dio glanced around. “And everything was like this when you got here?”

Lavie slammed the phone down with an incoherent curse. “These cops are morons! ‘Oh, we’re all so busy lately with the bootleggers,’ they say. ‘We’ll be at your location in twenty minutes,’ they say. Al could be dead in those twenty minutes! We can’t afford to just wait.”

Luciola began to scan the room. If the kidnappers had made a mess, they had been extremely thorough in cleaning it up. Maybe they didn’t come though this room? No, they would have had to in order to get to the rest of the house. “Mind if we look around for a while?”

George sat down heavily on the couch next to Claus. “Yeah, we’ll just stay out of your way then.”

One of the doors led to the bathroom and the kitchen, tiny and rickety-looking. The other led to the bedrooms. Alvis had been sharing Lavie’s room, and there were signs of a struggle. Her beloved stuffed goat was lying on the floor in a corner; Dio sighed and picked it up, putting it on the bed. “She’ll miss this.”

Yes, she will. Something glimmered silver on the blue-and-white carpet, and Luciola frowned. What is this? He picked it up. It was a single, long gray hair. Gray? Delphine never keeps anyone around long enough for their hair to turn gray…wait. She wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with this. “Cirillo was here. He did it on her orders.”

Dio blinked. “What makes you say that?”

He held up the hair. “He’s started to go gray recently, and this hair is about the right length. There are probably more here, as well.”

“We don’t need more, do we?”

Luciola shivered and let the hair slip from his fingers. No, we only need one to know who took Alvis. Now all we have to do is figure out where she is.

From the street, there came the sound of sirens.

&

Dio took a seat in a dingy chair in the living room. His gaze flickered around the room, taking in the faded yellow wallpaper, the carefully darned curtains, and Claus and George sitting on the couch without really noticing any of it. We failed. We were supposed to keep Alvis safe and reunite her with her parents, but we failed. Delphine took her. Does she intend to use her to keep her parents compliant? Or is there something else?

And…Luciola still won’t talk to me unless he has to. I don’t want to force him, but… Dio sighed and turned his gaze to the tiled ceiling. What can I do?

Someone knocked on the door, hard. George rose and answered it. “Who is it?”

“Police. Open up.”

Luciola, leaning against the opposite wall, snuffed out his cigarette. Dio shrank into his seat as George stepped back to allow seven uniformed cops in. Let them not notice me. Please, God, let them not notice me. He pulled his hat down, shielding his eyes.

One of the cops—a higher-ranking one, judging by the stripes sewn onto his sleeves—glanced around suspiciously. (2.) “We got a report of a disturbance here. Which one of you is…” He pulled out a scrap of paper and read off it. “…Lavie Head?”

The redheaded girl in question walked in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a striped towel. “Oh, officers. How…nice…to see you’ve finally arrived. I’m glad to see you could take time out of your busy schedules to drop by.”

A man with a salt-and-pepper moustache bristled at her. “Don’t get fresh with me, girl. We’re helping you.”

Her eyes narrowed, but her father stood up and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Just let them do their jobs, hon.”

She took a deep breath, apparently steadying herself. “Right. Okay. Alvis Hamilton is missing.”

“Wait—Miss Hamilton? You’re the kids who were supposed to give her a place to stay while we found her folks?” A skinny man with a bad haircut sneered at the people sitting around the room. “Well, well. Looks like the Inspector’s pet civilians couldn’t hack it after all. I always said—”

The mustached cop whacked him in the back of the head. “Shut it, you.” He turned to Claus. “Now, since you were there at the time, might you be willing to explain the situation a little more clearly?”

Claus sat up a little straighter. “An hour ago, Lavie and I walked down to the corner deli for groceries. I would have left her at home to watch Alvis, but I couldn’t have carried all the bags by myself. When we got back, Mr. Head—Lavie’s father—was just pulling up to the door. We went upstairs together, and Alvis was gone. We called for help.”

The head officer glared at Dio and Luciola. “And you called these amateurs first? They aren’t cops! They’ve probably already contaminated the crime scene.”

Amateurs? Even though Dio knew it was true, it still stung. He was very aware that Luciola had gone dangerously quiet and still. We’ve gotten further in a few weeks than these cops could in a year. “Excuse me, sir?”

Another police officer shrugged. “Don’t worry about anything from here on in. The professional detectives will handle the investigation from now on. You can sit back and relax.”

Lavie’s fists clenched in rage, but she stood by and let the police comb the house. With nothing better to do, Dio kept his gaze fixed to the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes had ticked past by the time the cops trooped back into the living room, shaking their heads. Dio couldn’t keep a note of mockery out of his voice. “Didn’t find anything, did you?”

They exchanged looks. The cop with the moustache shook his head. “The place is clean as a whistle. We have nothing to go on. Sorry.”

No clues? Are they really that incompetent? No, they just don’t want to be bothered. Dio gritted his teeth. Cops or no cops, I can’t stand by and let this happen. His fear forgotten, he stood up, but before he could open his mouth, Lavie beat him to it.

“No. She’s been kidnapped. She could be murdered or—or worse if she isn’t found. And you don’t even care, do you? You just want to go home and go about your lives; you couldn’t care less if one little girl goes missing. Never mind that that’s supposed to be your job.” Tears were beginning to spill over, but they were tears of rage. “She’s going to wind up in the same situation as her parents—a pawn for Delphine to use. And it will be your fault.”

A cop stared at her in shock. “Delphine? That Delphine? But she’s been paying—”

His superior kicked him in the shin to shut him up, but the damage had been done. Dio felt rage surge through his body. I knew Delphine had cops in her pocket, but of all the officers that could have responded… “You have the nerve to stand here and say you can’t help? Pathetic. You’re just like her hired muscle, then.”

One of the other officers made a furious movement towards him. “I should arrest you for insulting an officer of the law, you little brat.”

“I think I’ll call up Alex soon.” George was smoking and looking anywhere but at the police officers in his living room. “It’s been a while since I spoke to your boss in person, and I bet he’d really like to hear what you’re all getting up to.”

The head officer winced. “We have important things to do back at the station. We’ll contact you when we actually have leads.”

As they left, Lavie sank down onto the couch next to her father, hugging him tightly. “Alvis…Dad, she’s only eleven years old. This whole thing has been so hard for her, and now…We have to find her.” She lifted her head from George’s shoulder and fixed Dio with a glare that was every bit as scary as one of Luciola’s. “I know that’s not what we hired you for, but you have to find her.”

He nodded. I don’t really want to have to kill my sister…but I’ll do whatever it takes to free myself and the Hamiltons from her.

&

After learning of their dire financial straits, Claus, Lavie, and George insisted on having Luciola and Dio stay for dinner, sending them home afterwards with enough leftovers to easily last them the next few days. As soon as they reached home and put the covered dishes away in the refrigerator, Luciola left the apartment. He felt like taking a walk.

He set out without any clear idea of where he was going. At the corner, he paused and lit a cigarette. Someone jostled him, and he glared. People are so rude here. I want to be back uptown, where at least they know to apologize after they walk into you.

As he walked, the other pedestrians faded away. The sun was going down; it was getting marginally cooler. Eventually, the only thing he heard was the passing traffic. He stopped and leaned against a shabby building, watching the cars. As he watched, a broken-down Model T hit the gas, speeding through a red light with a cop car in close pursuit. Strangely, he did not feel afraid. Even the police here are pawns of Delphine. I know how to handle those. I just wish I didn’t have to. He sighed, blowing out smoke, and continued on.

A few more turns later, and he was standing at a familiar spot. He had used it as a parking spot on Saturday. It looks like the police were here after all. After all, someone had to clean up the blood. They hadn’t done a very good job, though; there were still faint pink stains on the concrete. He stared at them through a faint haze of smoke. Delphine’s hired thugs were…surprisingly good. But I am better. Still…they were only four, and she has a small army under her command. If we do fight her directly, even with Sophia’s help it will be a hard battle. He winced. It will be a risk. I do not like risks.

Leaning against the wall, he crumpled the remains of his cigarette and lit up another. His chest hurt. Speaking of risks… He shut his eyes briefly. Dio. If he goes against Delphine, it’ll be worse than death for him. Even if she decides to keep him alive, she’ll have his mind ripped apart, the same way she got rid of Joe Snakehead. He’ll never be able to function on his own again. And I… He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. I won’t be able to help him anymore.

For a long time, he stood and smoked. It was almost dark when an idea occurred to him. It will be risky, and it may not work, but if she underestimates me…yes, I think it’s worth it. Anything is worth it if I can save Dio, even if I have to sacrifice myself.

As he thought it out, he realized that his plan had one more benefit. I will be away from Dio. He is my friend, but…I am his bodyguard. He felt his face heat up. If I’m to be either of those things effectively, I have to be able to distract myself from these feelings. Nothing can get in the way of me saving him from Delphine. Even if he hates me afterwards, I have to do this. I’d rather have him alive and hating me than dead at Delphine’s hands.