Ten Days in August (15 page)

Of course, this was in part because Nicky subverted his gender.

Hank couldn't help but think that, in a perfect world, none of this would matter. It wouldn't matter if he fell in love with a man or a woman, it wouldn't matter if they were rich or poor, it wouldn't matter if Nicky seemed to love wearing gowns as much as he liked dressing as a man. Of course, in a perfect world, children wouldn't be dying in the heat of the tenements while the upper echelons of society drank wine and danced. There was something perverse about raising money for children with this kind of grand affair. Hank wondered if Amelia even had an inkling about how many children had died just this week.

He tried to push that aside so he could savor the moment dancing with Nicky. Nicky was a good dancer, and some training was evident in the precision of his steps, his grasp of the rhythms of the dance. Hank did enjoy holding him close and guiding him around the dance floor. Perhaps there was even a bit of scandal in holding a woman so close in polite society, though Hank hardly cared because when would he ever get another opportunity like this?

So they danced, and for a few moments, all Hank could see was Nicky, those blue eyes gazing back at him, the inherent beauty of his face—striking even without makeup, though no less beautiful with the addition of rouge and other paint—and the way the little earbobs on each of Nicky's earlobes caught the light. Hank hadn't noticed those before.

Nicky smelled good. A little sweaty, perhaps, but that was unavoidable. He had a perfumed air about him, something soft and floral, likely intended to mask his otherwise masculine scent. But Hank knew what was really underneath all of it, and it made him want Nicky all the more.

He could easily fall in love with this man.

Of course, that was a complication his life did not need. He had long heeded Amelia's warnings not to get involved, and if anyone knew what was really happening beneath the surface, it would cost Hank his job at best, and it risked Nicky's life.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Nicky asked.

“You.”

“I'm right here, darling, for you to gaze upon. No need to think on the matter further.”

“Perhaps I was cursing Fate for bringing you to my life but making us impossible.”

“Yes, well.” Nicky turned his head and looked off into the distance for a moment, although he never once made a wrong step. “Given the circumstances, I would quit Bulgaria tomorrow if I could afford to. If I had any other means of employment.”

“Surely you have other ways to earn a living.”

Nicky sighed. “Yes, but none that allow me to look like this. Julie at least lets me be myself. Paulina is an essential part of me. You must understand that.”

Hank could not quite grasp the idea. “Are you saying you would rather be Paulina?”

Nicky whispered, “Are you asking if I would rather be a woman? No, darling, I am quite content with the way God made me. But it would be like cutting off an arm if I had to give up Paulina.” He adjusted his hand on Hank's shoulder. “I have no other way to explain it.”

“If there were a way for you to keep Paulina but get out of that place . . .”

“If I knew of one, I would take that path tomorrow. It took me years to get to where I am now. I don't like working for Julie and I don't like having strange men paw at me. But Julie pays me and I like to sing.” Nicky looked up and met Hank's gaze. “You want to protect me, and I appreciate that, but I've been taking care of myself for years now.”

“I know. But even if we never see each other again after this is over, I'll worry.”

Nicky leaned his forehead against Hank's. In the heeled shoes Nicky wore, they were close to the same height. Hank closed his eyes and leaned in, taking in Nicky's sweet smell and the feel of their bodies close together. He didn't think he'd ever have an opportunity like this again and he wanted it to last.

The song waned and, when those gathered to dance turned to applaud the orchestra, Hank stole a kiss, daring to cause a scandal. Nicky's lips were soft and undoubtedly the press of them against Hank's would turn Hank's red, but Hank didn't care.

If anyone noticed, they didn't react.

When the orchestra struck up again, Hank swept Nicky back into his arms and led him through another waltz. Nicky laughed breathlessly, the sound like music. They glided together for a long moment and Hank sank into the pleasure of the dance.

Then Nicky seized in Hank's arms and gasped aloud.

“He's here,” Nicky said.

Hank was instantly a police detective again, keeping his face neutral but alert and aware of his surroundings. He held Nicky close, clasping their hands together, his other hand at Nicky's back. “Where?”

“By the Ugly Venus.”

Hank steered Nicky around so that Hank could look. Jonathan was having what looked like an intense conversation with Brigham Knight near the statue. Both had dark hair and were dressed expensively. Could Jonathan have been the man slumming? He hardly seemed the type, but then, Hank didn't know him at all. Or was it Mr. Knight? Knight seemed too preoccupied with his buildings to be the sort. Hank usually trusted his gut, but both men felt wrong for this crime. Still, he was inclined to trust Nicky. “The man on the left or the one on the right?”

“Left. The man with darker hair. With the green waistcoat.”

Brigham Knight.

“I know who he is,” said Hank. “Are you certain?”

Nicky started to breathe faster and harder. Thinking quick, Hank grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him away from the other dancers. He found an unoccupied chair near the refreshments table and shoved Nicky onto it.

“Is everything all right?”

Hank looked up. Amelia had appeared at his side. “Alice is overcome by the heat,” Hank said.

“I will get her some water.”

It was clear Nicky's attempts to calm down were for naught, as he kept glancing up toward the Ugly Venus and then inhaling sharply. Amelia returned with a crystal glass full of water, and even though Hank's mouth watered at the sight of it, he let Nicky take it and drink from it slowly.

“I'd like to have a word with Mrs. Cooper, if you will be all right for a moment,” Hank said.

“Yes, sorry. The heat, you know. I'll just sit here.”

Hank met Nicky's gaze, which somehow confirmed for him that things were all right. Hank took Amelia by the elbow and steered her away from the crowds.

“Is Alice really okay?” she asked.

“I hope so.”

“I must say, Hank, I am shocked to see you at a party with a woman. And not only a woman, but one you are clearly quite smitten with. Not that I'm begrudging a change of heart, but—”

“Nothing has changed. Forget about Alice for a moment. What can you tell me about Brigham Knight?”

Amelia balked. “What? Nothing. He's a friend of Jonathan's. Why are you—are you here in another capacity? Are you being romantic with Alice as a cover because you're here to investigate Mr. Knight?”

Hank merely raised his eyebrows.

“You are an astonishingly good actor. I really believed you and Alice—”

Hank held up his hand. “There is more to the story, but I can't tell you now. I need to know about Knight.”

“I don't really know him well. He's related to the Vanderbilts by marriage, but I think his wife is a lesser-known cousin. I've only met her once. She's sickly and rarely goes out in public. Poor thing never quite recovered from the last time she gave birth. They have three children, all daughters.”

“All right.”

“He's been meeting with Jonathan to discuss buying the steel for this project near Madison Square, but Mr. Knight doesn't even have the land in his possession yet, so Jonathan isn't selling.”

“That is wise.”

“You met him last week. Did he provoke your investigative instincts?”

“No, actually. I thought him innocuous.” Hank lowered his voice. “Alice is a witness to the case I'm investigating. She recognized him.”

“What should we do?”

Hank glanced back at Nicky, who sat in the chair, rocking slightly, a hand pressed to his forehead. “I want to talk to Knight, but I might need to get Alice out of here.”

“I can speak with her while you speak to Mr. Knight.”

Hank took a few seconds to weigh his options and then nodded. He watched Amelia pull a chair up next to Nicky and begin a conversation. Hank proceeded back across the ballroom to do the same with Knight.

When Hank approached, Jonathan tossed his head back to laugh at something a grinning Knight must have said.

“Ah, Mr. Brandt,” Jonathan said. “I saw you come in earlier. The woman on your arm was quite lovely.”

“Yes, thank you.” Hank made a show of being bashful. “That's Alice McGraw. My new sweetheart, I guess you could say. I like her a great deal.”

Jonathan slapped him on the back. “Capital! Amelia does so worry about your lonely heart, what with all your long hours as a police inspector.”

Knight gave him an appraising look, his gaze traveling the whole length of Hank's body. It sent shivers up Hank's spine, but he tamped down a reaction.

“Yes, well, quite fortuitous circumstances. She is over there now, chatting about gowns and ribbons with your wife.”

When everyone turned to look, Nicky seemed remarkably better, engaged in what looked like a pleasant conversation with Amelia.

“Yes, women do carry on,” Jonathan said.

“A police inspector,” said Knight. “Where do you work most often?”

“Downtown. Seventeenth Precinct, though I work in the Tenth and Fourteenth as well sometimes. I work between Fourteenth Street and Canal Street, basically. And I'm only an acting inspector until my promotion is approved. With all the deadlock on the police board, that may never happen. I'm straddling a line in the interim, still working a few cases.”

“Are you working on anything interesting?” Jonathan asked. “Amelia mentioned you had a tough case.”

Knight leaned closer. Hank wanted to arrest him right then. “Murder on the Bowery, but evidence is scarce. We are likely to give up on the case without solving it. The details are also quite salacious. Unfit for present company.”

Knight nodded. “Does that happen a lot? Unsolved cases, I mean.”

“More than I'm comfortable admitting.” An exaggeration. Hank had an excellent record when it came to solving his cases. That was a big part of why he'd been nominated for the promotion to begin with. “It is difficult with these resorts on the Bowery. Brothels, really. Horrific things. The police department doesn't want to put its resources on another dead prostitute, not when there are more important crimes to solve.”

“Not when there are saloons to close on Sunday, you mean,” said Jonathan, shaking his head in disgust.

“Yes, well, I do not make these decisions. If you would like an ale on Sunday, take it up with Commissioner Roosevelt.”

As Hank fell into conversation with Jonathan about the relative merits of the Sunday laws, he kept an eye on Knight, who silently listened. There was nothing obviously amiss, but something about Knight struck Hank as off. He wasn't sure if it was just that Nicky had alerted him to the possibility that Knight was up to something or if he was acting genuinely suspicious; nothing was obviously out of place. But Hank was now hyperaware of every move Knight made, every gesture, every twitch of an eyelash.

Hank looked back at Nicky and Amelia. Nicky looked distressed again. “I believe I need to return to my Alice. The heat has quite affected her. I hate to dash out of the party, but I believe I must take her home.”

“Of course, Hank,” said Jonathan. “It was a pleasure to see you.”

“Indeed. I thank you for your hospitality, Jonathan. And Mr. Knight, it was nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.”

Hank nodded and walked back across the bar. He bowed in front of Nicky and offered his arm for him to take. As Nicky stood, Hank whispered to Amelia, “Can you get me Knight's address?”

“Yes, I believe so. Jonathan must have it. His family is on Fifth Avenue, but farther down. I can't recall which block. I will find it for you.”

“Bless you, Amelia. Miss McGraw, with your permission, I believe we should bid this party adieu.”

“Yes, darling. I find I am quite tired suddenly.”

“It is this infernal heat,” said Amelia. “Whoever makes women's clothing and all these layers never thought of our well-being on a ninety-degree day.”

“Agreed.” Nicky reached out and took Amelia's hands in both of his. “Amelia, my dear, it was a delight to meet you.”

“And I you! I hope we get to see each other again in the near future. You and Hank can come for dinner, perhaps.”

“I'd like that.” But Nicky's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Graves was deployed to help track down a cab. Once Nicky and Hank were headed downtown, Nicky said, “Mr. Knight. He is our man.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes, I believe so. A party was not the correct place to make a confrontation. I intend to call on him at home tomorrow evening.”

“Not by yourself.”

“I'll bring Stephens. Why, are you concerned for me?”

Nicky tutted. But then he said. “You know I am.”

“I'll be careful, I swear to it.” Hank took a deep breath. “Seeing him rattled you. Are you all right?”

“I am better now that we are away from the party. That man, seeing him tonight . . . I believe I've seen him about Bulgaria before. Even if he is not our killer, he is a dangerous sort. Please, Hank, I do not know what I would do if—”