Lizzy sat forward. “What is Miss Jamison’s role in all this? Why is she here in Darling?”

“She’s hiding out. You see, she is Treasury’s star witness. They’ve scratched together a lot of circumstantial evidence, but they had to find somebody on the inside to give them the lowdown. When she showed up in their office, mad as hell at Capone and offering to spill everything she knew about his finances, the T-boys knew they had a winner. In fact, they thought they had it all wrapped up. They were getting ready to move in when Capone somehow got wind that she was blowing the whistle on him. So he sent one of his men to have a little heart-to-heart with her. The talk turned ugly and the man—the Blade, he was called—ended up cutting Miss Lake’s face pretty badly. Miss Jamison shot him. Killed him.” He paused, cleared his throat, and looked at Lizzy, as if he expected her to be shocked.

She wasn’t, of course, since she already knew this part of the story. “Go on,” she said impatiently. “Go on, please.”

He gave her a questioning look. “Well, anyway,” he continued, “the shooting meant that the two of them, Miss Jamison and Miss Lake, had to get out of town fast. The Cicero police are in the pockets of the Capone syndicate, and Treasury couldn’t risk letting the boys in blue get their hands on Miss Jamison. Luckily, she had already made arrangements to come here. She needed a safe refuge while she and the Feds—and I—worked out the details of her testimony on the Capone tax evasion case. When it looked as if she would be charged with murder, Treasury asked me to negotiate some sort of deal with the Illinois authorities. And meanwhile, to make sure that she stayed safely under wraps.”

“She didn’t,” Lizzy said. “And she wasn’t.”

Mr. Moseley’s eyebrows went up. “Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t stay under wraps. And she wasn’t safe. She—”

“What?” Mr. Moseley jumped out of his chair. He put both hands flat, palms down, on his desk, and leaned on them. “What did you say?”

“They found her,” Lizzy replied. “That is, Frankie Diamond found her.”

“Frankie Diamond?” Mr. Moseley asked. “He didn’t hurt her, did he? Don’t tell me he managed to—”

“No, he didn’t—but he tried. He showed up day before yesterday at Verna’s door, looking for information about Lorelei LaMotte. He even had a photo of her, which was taken in front of the Western Hotel. That was a tip-off for Verna, because she had read in one of her crime magazines that the Western was Capone’s headquarters. She suspected that he was up to no good and called Miss Jamison’s place in Cicero. Mrs. O’Malley told her that Diamond was a friend of the Blade. So—”

“Mrs. O’Malley?” he interrupted, pulling his brows together in a frown. “Then you gave Verna—”

“Yes,” Lizzy said staunchly. “I gave Verna the name and phone number out of the file. And it’s a darn good thing I did, too,” she added. “Otherwise, Miss Jamison would likely be dead right now.”