“My God, Sam! Did you know all along?”
“Yes, but I stayed out of that part entirely. Kalai’s a brilliant man, and he was willing to pass down his knowledge of spices to me. His sons think spices are a waste of time—they only care about the money from the drugs. So they leave me alone and manage the heroin sales under their father’s watch.”
If she had been on shaky footing when she woke up this morning, now the ground was crumbling under her feet. “How did you get mixed up with a man like Mr. Kalai?”
“I met him through Esme. Part of her job as hatcheck girl was to act as a go-between for Kalai and his clients.”
“Why would she agree to do such a thing?”
“Money.”
Darby remembered the heaps of makeup that Esme had, the dresses that materialized out of nowhere. The strange encounter at Hector’s Cafeteria. “I think I saw her once, actually. Uptown at lunch. She passed off something to a man in a suit. She said he was in her acting class.” She looked up at Sam. “Obviously not.”
“She double-crossed Kalai, gave info to the undercover cop at the club.”
“She couldn’t have. She hated that guy.”
“This article includes a full transcript of an informant, an ‘Esme C.,’ spilling secrets. Which means Kalai knows everything. He’ll be after her; that’s certain.”
Why hadn’t Esme ever confided in her? All the lies and cover-ups. Still, she deserved a chance to defend herself. Darby owed her that much at least.
“I’m sure she can explain everything, Sam. Or I hope she can, anyway—there has to be a good reason why she’d do this.”
Sam blinked a couple of times. “Don’t you understand, Darby? She’s gone, and if she’s smart, she’ll stay that way. She’s in serious danger now. And, by extension, so am I.”
“But why are you in danger?”
“My father told me Kalai is out of control, in a complete rage. He has his sons out looking for anyone else involved.”
“But you weren’t involved. You just said so.”
“Except that it was me who convinced Kalai we couldn’t toss the cops out of the club night after night. I thought it made us look too suspicious and would end badly for my dad. But now Kalai thinks I was secretly working with the undercovers all along, that I convinced Esme to rat him out. He thinks the sting was my doing.”
“I don’t understand. Can’t you just explain to him that it wasn’t you?”
“Kalai is paranoid. He’s decided I’m to blame and so I am. My father wants me to leave right now, go out to California where my brother is.”
Darby’s world was collapsing. Esme was a police informant and involved in the drug trade. Sam was fleeing New York City. Mother’s harsh words echoed in her brain. She’d been blinded by her hopes and didn’t see the danger they were all in.
Sam reached out and took her hands. A slight tremor shook his fingers.
“You’re shaking,” she said.
“I’m angry. I’m angry at Esme for screwing everything up for me. For us.”
Darby’s heart pounded in her chest, heavy with dread. “I think Esme did this for me.”
“What?”
“I think it’s probably a scheme she came up with to take care of me, until we’re on our feet. If she got money for snitching, it was to support me. She couldn’t have known that it would be leaked in the papers.”
“She should have talked to me first. I could have helped. Now I have to leave and go where no one knows me. I’ll have to start as a line cook somewhere, begin all over again.”
She couldn’t bear to see him go. “Maybe it’s only for a month or two. Mr. Kalai will end up in jail, and you’ll be able to come back.”
“His sons won’t give up the business. The money involved is too enormous. The police may get Kalai, but the organization will carry on. That’s why I want you to go with me.”
Her heart stopped for a moment as she processed his words. “To California?”
“Why not? We’ll take the train out tonight. I have some money saved, and we’ll find my brother and start a new life together.”
“The two of us?”
“Yes. I hear California’s great, no freezing winters and you can eat figs right off the tree.”
“But what about New York City?”
“It’ll always be here. We’ll come back in ten years, when the coast is clear and I’m a successful chef and you’re a famous writer. We’ll be married with a couple of kids and we’ll show them where we first met and fell in love.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, Darby.”
The room closed in around her. If she chose to go with Sam, she’d be a single girl, traveling with a bachelor. No chaperone.
And no more gloves. No clunky typewriter with the x key that always stuck. No giraffes.
But no Esme.
“I love you, too. I’ll go with you. But I have to say good-bye to Esme first.”
“You won’t find her.” He spoke firmly, calmly. “I’m telling you, Darby, I promise you, she’s gone.”
She thought of Daddy, what he might have revealed to her if she’d known to give him the chance. Esme deserved that as well. “I have to try. Can you give me some time? Not much. Just enough to nose around here a little bit. Her shift starts in twenty minutes. If she doesn’t turn up, I’ll leave a note for her at the front desk.”
“Fine, but be careful. I’ll head downtown to get my things and meet you under the clock at Grand Central in two hours. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good.” He brought his hand to Darby’s cheek and smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
New York City, 2016
After packing her personal possessions from her desk into a canvas bag—there weren’t many, a mug, an umbrella, and an extra pair of high heels—Rose walked out of the WordMerge offices for the last time. The rest of the staff had no idea what had occurred with Tyler. She’d collected her things and left, as if she were only popping out to the gym.
Five years ago she’d been a rising star, groomed to take over a national anchor position one day. And now she couldn’t even hold a job at a start-up. But with her father so ill, the trajectory of her career seemed an inconsequential thing, like a burned-out lightbulb you kept meaning to fix. She’d get back to it and figure it out soon enough. For now she had to focus on her dad.
Bird was eager to get outside when she returned to Darby’s apartment. Or maybe Esme’s apartment, really. But once they walked out the service entrance, the rain began falling in sheets. She tucked Bird under one arm, strode into the park, and planted him beneath one of the giant elm trees. The leaves acted as a de facto umbrella: large drops broke through the foliage every so often, but the worst of the weather was kept at bay. Bird found a patch of dirt of which he approved and took a long pee, glaring up at Rose for invading his privacy by watching him. She looked away. How had she got to this point, where a ten-pound dog bossed her around?
As Rose approached the Barbizon, a figure caught her eye. Jason stood underneath the awning that led to the lobby, looking down at his phone. In a smooth movement, he slung his backpack over his shoulder, and her stomach did a flip. His every move breathed of sex to her now; she couldn’t help it. But she didn’t want him going inside.
“Jason!”
She called out and crossed the street, almost getting hit by a cab that had veered suddenly into the left-hand lane.
Jason looked up. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Sorry, I left my phone in the apartment.” She glanced back at the lobby. Patrick saw her and waved. “We’ve got to go around the side. Come this way.”
“Wait a minute.” Jason stood firm. “I just went inside and they said you don’t live here anymore.”
“Well, not officially. I dog-sit for another tenant.”
“Then let’s go in; this rain’s a disaster. And we have to talk about what happened today. Tyler said you quit.”
“I did. If I stayed, he would’ve made my life more miserable than it already is. But we have the story still, so that’s good news. Come around this way and I’ll tell you all about it.”