“It will reassure the public.” Wasserman’s tone grew heated. “Make them feel safe. Advertisements are in all this morning’s papers, and we have snipers putting up posters across the city. Both Mr. Baumgarten and I believe that whoever committed these crimes has hopped a train out West, and if he has any sense, he’ll stay there. If he doesn’t, well, we have the resources to take him on. Now, unless someone has an urgent question, I’ll leave you to your duties.”

Wasserman swiftly made his way to the door as Chief Hickey raised his voice above the fracas.

“Enough, gentlemen! If you have any questions, you can direct them to me—and I mean questions, not complaints.”

“Christ,” muttered a man beside Francis. “Even if our man’s in Denver, we’re going to be ass over teakettle with kids and crazies.”

Francis nodded in agreement. He waited till nearly everyone had dispersed before approaching Hickey. The chief shook his head.

“Don’t! Cabell spoke to the commissioner last night—asked him to shut the park down, at least for a few days. Deneen refused. So don’t waste any more of my time or your own.”

Hickey thrust his cigar between his teeth and removed a box of matches from his breast pocket, a signal that Francis was dismissed.

Chapter 68

Chapter 68

IT WAS FAR too early for Max to have arrived at the park, but Pin went by his dressing room anyway. The door was still unlocked. Inside, there was no sign that he’d been there. Mondays she did her studio run: she prayed he’d show up soon and send her off with a packet for Lionel. She was starving and had been able to scrounge only a nickel from the shack before she left. And she yearned to see Gloria again, to hear her sly laugh and tell her everything that had happened since they’d last met.

But there was no point waiting for Max. He kept his own hours. So she continued on, and drew up short when she saw a freshly painted banner flapping above the entrance to the Ten-in-One:

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND

LORD CLYDE, THE HOO-DOO KING

PRESTIDIGITATOR SUPREME & ESCAPE ARTIST

NO BARS CAN HOLD HIM!

“You have a fucking nerve, boy.”

She turned to see Clyde staring down at her, his eyes bloodshot and his usually immaculate white shirt soiled and rumpled.

“Clyde.” Her voice came out in a croak. “Clyde, you’re free?”

“Say what, boy? Speak up.” Clyde stooped to bring his face close to hers. “Didn’t have any trouble speaking up to the police, did you?”

“What? I didn’t—”

Without warning, his hand clipped her ear, and she went sprawling onto the ground.

“I didn’t tell them nothing,” she gasped, rolling onto her back. “You can ask them, what’d they say?”