The way she said it, so matter-of-factly, had Cliff looking at her again. She’d said it before, countless times in countless ways, but he realized now he hadn’t listened. Yes, she lived here. She’d chosen to live here just as he had. It hardly mattered where she’d lived or how she’d lived before. She was here now because she’d chosen to be. And she was staying. For the first time, he fully believed it.

“Miss Fitzgerald …” The piano player crushed the brim of his hat in his fingers, torn between pleasure and anxiety. “I just wanted you to know it’s great having you here. We don’t want to push you into anything, but if you’d like to play anything, anything at all—”

“Are you asking?” she interrupted.

The boy stumbled over uncertain ground. “We just wanted you to know that if you’d like—”

“I don’t know any of the songs,” she told him, taking a last sip of beer. “Do you trust me to improvise?”

His mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding?”

She laughed and handed her cup to Cliff. “Hang on to this.”

He shook his head, leaning back against the wall as she walked to the stage with the piano player. She had a habit of giving orders, he mused. Then he thought of the look of stunned admiration in the boy’s eyes. Maybe it was worth it.

She played for an hour. It was, she discovered, as much fun making the music as it was dancing to it. She enjoyed the challenge of the unfamiliar music and the freewheeling style. Before she’d gone through the second number, Maggie had decided to write one of her own.

From the vantage point of the stage, she could see the dancers. She saw Louella again, partnered by Stan. Automatically, she searched the crowd for Joyce and found her, facing Cliff. As if she’d known he’d be there, her gaze was drawn to the left. Reiker leaned against a post, smoking, watching the dancers.

Who? Maggie wondered. Who is he watching? As the lines merged and shifted, she couldn’t be sure, only that the direction of his gaze rested on where Stan danced with Louella and Cliff with Joyce.

If he saw one of them as a murderer, it didn’t show in his eyes. They were calm and steady and made Maggie’s stomach queasy. Deliberately, she turned her head and concentrated on the music.

“I didn’t expect to lose my partner to a piano,” Cliff said when the music paused again.

Maggie sent him an arch look. “You didn’t appear to lack for any.”

“A lone man’s easy prey around here.” Grabbing her hand, he drew her to her feet. “Hungry?”

“Is it midnight already?” Maggie pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m starving.”