Loretta was studying her now, frowning. She looked disappointed, which made something inside Dorothy ache. Even now, after all this time, there was still a part of her that desperately wanted to please her mother.

Eventually, Loretta picked up her abandoned teacup and stared down at the dregs inside, nose wrinkled. She swirled the tea, thinking.

Finally, she said, “Mac Murphy is this man’s name?”

Dorothy frowned. Her mother had a way of asking questions so that they didn’t actually sound like questions. It was as though she already knew everything and was only waiting for her to confirm it.

“Yes,” Dorothy said, “that’s his name.”

“And he’s something of a crime lord?” Crime lord said with a curl to her lip, as though the idea were a joke.

Dorothy took another sip of her awful tea. “He is,” she said, swallowing. “He has the entire city in his back pocket.”

“Happy man, is he?” Loretta cocked an eyebrow. “Lots of friends? Family?”

“Well . . . no.” And now Dorothy frowned. She’d never given that much thought to Mac’s personal life, she realized. He’d always just sort of . . . existed. “I don’t suppose he has any friends or family, now that I think about it.”

A small smile twitched at Loretta’s mouth. Dorothy knew this smile well. It was her mother coming up with the beginnings of a con. Her heart quickened.

“What?” she demanded, setting her teacup back into its saucer. A bit of tea sloshed over the side, filling the saucer with weak, brown liquid. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s just that I’m a bit disappointed with you,” Loretta said. “Men like that, men who have power but no relationships, men who are lonely. How have I taught you to treat them all this time?”

“As a mark,” Dorothy said, feeling numb.

“Exactly.” Loretta slapped her ruined hand against her knee, making a point. “Men like that are weak, no matter how much power they seem to have accrued. They are blind. They think that their wealth and their influence will save them, but they’ve left themselves open and vulnerable. What do we do with men like that?”

Dorothy felt her lip twitch. “We ruin them.”

“Exactly,” Loretta said, with cool triumph. She took another dainty sip of her tea and said calmly, “We ruin them.”

30

Ash

Ash and the Professor had retreated to a small sitting room. It was a fussy sort of room, Ash thought, all small and crowded, the furniture slightly dainty, like he might break it in half if he moved around too much. Ash felt much too big for it. He balanced at the edge of a floral-patterned love seat, one hand pressed to the bandage on his abdomen. His knife wound was starting to sting, and something perfumed hung in the air, making his nostrils twitch.