Una yanked free and spun around, stepping back as she did so and sinking into a defensive crouch. One hand slid into her pocket and latched around her brass knuckles. The other shot up to absorb a strike. Her vision narrowed, and her attacker’s shape took form.

“Jiminy, Deidre! What the hell are you doing here?” Una lowered her arm. She’d been so intent looking out for one of Marm Blei’s hired roughs she’d missed Deidre behind her all this time.

“You ain’t out getting sausages or eggs.” “Grutzmacher’s was sold out by the time I got there.” “You could tell that from three blocks away?”

Una’s hand tightened around the brass knuckles in her pocket. She’d never use them on Deidre but damned if she didn’t want to at the moment. “How come you’re following me? I told you not to come.”

“I ain’t following you.” Deidre looked down, gnawing on her bottom lip. “Least I didn’t start off following you. But when I saw you heading off in the opposite direction of old Grutzmacher’s shop, I got curious.”

She stepped closer and jabbed a finger at Deidre’s chest. “You thought I was off to see Mr. Harris? Thought you’d cutty-eye us like a peeper.”

Deidre shoved her away. “I know you ain’t out to meet that reporter. You ain’t interested in anyone or anything you can’t use or sell.”

“That ain’t—” Una stopped. It was true. Never mind that it stung to hear it said aloud. “That ain’t the point. You got no business following me.”

“And you ain’t got no business sipping beer in the same bar as Traveling Mike.”

Una kept her voice steady, even as her heart floundered. “Oh, he was there? I didn’t notice. I’d come to meet a—”

“Didn’t notice my ass. He’s the reason you went out tonight. Not for eggs or to see that reporter. Marm Blei would be none too pleased if she knew.”

The growing cold prickled over Una’s limbs. What would Marm Blei do to Una when Deidre ratted her out? No transaction had occurred between

Una and Traveling Mike yet. Could she deny it? Even if Marm Blei believed her, she’d be suspicious of Una from here on out. No, the best way was to embroil Deidre in the deceit with her. That would ensure Deidre’s silence.

She grabbed Deidre’s arm and pulled her close. “Listen, I got a pair of cuff links I’m fencing. Rubies and real silver.”

Deidre’s eyes widened. “How much you think you can get for them?” “At least twenty. I’ll throw you twenty-five percent if you stay quiet.

Wait here and I’ll—”

“Fifty, and I’m coming with you.”

Una considered a moment. Traveling Mike might be put off by the appearance of someone else. No doubt it would harden his bargain. And if Deidre tagged along, she’d be privy to the negotiations and know the real amount Traveling Mike paid. There’d be no way around tipping Deidre her quota.

She let out a huff of breath that rose like a ghost into the air. The longer she dallied the greater the chance Traveling Mike would grow impatient and leave. Hell, he may have left already. And she couldn’t risk Deidre blowing the gab. “All right. Fifty percent. But don’t say a word. This is my negotiation.”

They followed the alley to a small rear yard, the fallen snow muffling their footfalls. The shadowy outline of broken-down crates and rotting barrels cluttered the yard. Brick and wood buildings rose around them on all sides, blocking out the light from the street. Tattered curtains and thin squares of flannel shrouded the windows—few as they were—that faced the yard. The pale glow peeking through tears and around the seams suggested firelight within but offered no illumination. Behind them, the noise of the street was a distant murmur—voices and footfalls indistinguishable from the crunch of wagon wheels over the icy pavers. The same far-off sounds echoed from the opposite end of the alley, where only a sliver of the street was visible.

“Damn it,” Una muttered, fishing through her pocket for a matchbook. She’d bickered so long with Deidre that Traveling Mike had given up and left.

Deidre managed to strike a match first. The kindling flame momentarily illuminated the yard. A blanket of snow covered the flotsam, glittering and white. It made a strange, dissonant contrast to the dark smudges of soot and

slop that stained the walls. A flash of movement ground level caught her eye, and her gaze drifted downward just as Deidre screamed. She dropped the match, and the yard went dark before Una could fully process what she’d seen. A man? Crouched beside another man sprawled on the snowy pavers? A belt or length of rope wrapped around the sprawling man’s neck?

Una instinctively backed away. Her feet tangled with a pile of rubble, and she fell against the wall. The brick was hard and cold against her back. Despite the blackness and Deidre’s continued shriek, she had the sickening sense that the crouched man had risen and taken a step toward them. If there had been a man at all. Una still wasn’t sure what she’d seen.

She fumbled through her pockets. Tie pin . . . cuff links . . . knuckles . . . the damned magazine. Where were her matches? She’d had the flimsy box within her grasp only moments ago. Deidre stopped screaming and fumbled with her own matches. She scraped one, two against the striker, but they didn’t ignite. Finally, Una found hers and managed to light one.

Only one man remained in the yard—Traveling Mike. He lay faceup on the ground, eyes open and red. Blood-tinged spit dribbled from his lips. Dead. Una need not listen for breath or feel for a pulse. She’d seen this dull- eyed stillness enough to be certain. His peddler’s case lay closed at his side. The snow around him was dirty and troubled from a struggle. The skin on his neck was raw and red, but the belt—if that’s what she’d seen—was gone.

Una swept her gaze around the yard again to be sure the other man wasn’t hiding behind a barrel or trash bin. There had been another man, hadn’t there? She’d caught only a glimpse before Deidre dropped her match.

“Where’d he go?” Deidre said.

Una felt a wash of relief—she had seen another man—followed quickly by a prickling dread. “We have to get out of here.” She pushed off against the wall and grabbed Deidre’s arm. Her fear-muddled brain began to clear. Boot prints trailed down the narrow passage at the far end of the yard. Behind them, a jumble of prints—hers, Deidre’s, Traveling Mike’s, and perhaps even the killer’s—all leading into the yard. None heading out. She tugged Deidre in that direction.

“Shouldn’t we . . . ?” Deidre gestured weakly at Traveling Mike.

Did she mean to close his eyes? Rearrange his twisted limbs in a more peaceful repose? Pry open his peddler’s case and divide the spoils? This last

idea wasn’t a bad one, but they hadn’t the time. “Are you mad? Half the damned city must have heard you scream. Coppers will be here any minute.”

“Maybe we should stay and tell ’em what we seen.”

Una lit another match. Even in the warm, peachy glow of light, Deidre’s face looked drained of color. She’d seen bad things, Deidre, growing up in the slums. But not like this, Una realized. Not murder. She gave her friend’s cheek a light slap. “We’re gonna pad like a bull to the street, then play it cool. Just two ladies out for an evening stroll. We ain’t heard nothin’. Ain’t seen nothin’. Got it?”

Deidre rubbed her cheek and nodded. As the match burned down to a nub, Una cast a final glance at Traveling Mike. Then she ran. Deidre’s footfalls sounded close behind her. She’d almost made it to the street when a wiry, baby-faced copper rounded the corner into the alley.

Una skidded to a stop in the slick snow. Deidre ran into her from behind, and they both nearly toppled.

“Who goes there?” the copper shouted, fumbling to unclip the lantern from his belt.

Shoving her way past Deidre, Una scrambled back toward the yard. She could escape out the alley at the far end like the killer had. Hopefully Deidre would follow, but for now, it was every woman for herself. She dashed through the darkened yard, tripping over crates and half-broken boxes and something soft and malleable that may have been an arm. A glint of light at the far end of the narrow alley promised an exit, but Una’s feet slowed as she thought again of Traveling Mike’s case. He must have hundreds of dollars’ worth of stolen goods. Enough to get her out of the slum and free of Marm Blei for good.

She glanced over her shoulder to gauge the copper’s distance. His lantern was but a pinprick of light at the far mouth of the alley. Perhaps Deidre was putting him off with some story or another before she herself would run. Una had enough time to go back for the case. But before her feet could turn around, she crashed into a stone wall in the middle of the alley.

Una staggered back and rattled her head. Not a stone wall, but another copper. In the dim light, she could just make out his tall bruiser of a frame. He clasped the collar of her coat before she had the sense to slip around him and flee. She tried to shrug off her coat, but he reached out with his other hand and locked his meaty fingers around her arm.

“Going somewhere, missy?”

Una stomped on his toes with the heel of her boot. His lined faced didn’t even flinch.

“I didn’t think so,” he said.