Page 62 of Shadowed Loyalty

Fifteen

What do then? how meet beauty? | Merely meet it; own,

Home at heart, heaven’s sweet gift; | then leave, let that alone.

Yea, wish that though, wish all, | God’s better beauty, grace.

—Gerard Manley Hopkins,

from “To What Serves Mortal Beauty?”

“Ican’t believe you’re dragging me here.” Cliff’s words barely reached Roman’s ears above the loud jazz spiraling through the room. “We should be shutting this place down, not stopping in for a drink.”

Roman punched his friend lightly in the shoulder. “Relax. Think of it as research. We’re getting a feel for the place—maybe we’ll run into someone who knew Eddie.”

Cliff snorted. “Do you always make excuses for yourself like that? ’Cause I for one am not going to buy it.”

Elbowing a tanked patron out of the way, Roman stepped up to the bar. “One gin, one beer.”

“Coke,” Cliff corrected, scowling at Roman. “One gin, one Coke.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Puritan.”

“Traceable to the Mayflower.” Cliff took a seat and sent a superior snarl across the room. “This joint stinks. Literally.”

“You know, Brewster, you’re sucking all the fun out of the evening.” Roman smiled at the barkeep and handed off the bottle of Coca-Cola to Cliff, then accepted his gin. “Thanks, pal.”

Because he didn’t feel like dealing with his friend’s irritation, Roman took a stool closer to the bandstand and focused his attention on the wailing brass. A second later, recognition struck—it was the same group that had been performing that night Sabina snuck out to meet him, playing the same set. As a matter of fact, this was the song they’d been playing when he took her outside for a kiss—a kiss that had turned into more and still haunted his dreams.

Cliff scooted his stool closer and leaned in to be heard over the music. “Why didn’t you bring that new girl you’re seeing, anyway?”

Roman arched his brows at him. “What girl?”

“You know—the blond I saw leaving your apartment the other day.” Obvious pride sparked in his blue eyes, as if he thought he’d uncovered a secret.

Roman’s mouth twitched. “That wasn’t my girlfriend, Cliff. That was just Sally—you know, the hooker helping with the case.”

Suspicion replaced the gleam of pride. “You let her in your apartment?”

“What’s she going to do, steal half a loaf of bread? Please. She’s dropped by twice now with updates on her conversations with Ava. And cleans up the place while she’s there,” he added with a grin. “Not a bad arrangement if you ask me.”

Cliff stared at him, unblinking. “Please tell me you’re not sleeping with her.” When Roman just looked back at the band, Cliff let out a vehement expletive. “You are such a hypocrite, O’Reilly! You claim to be an honest agent, but you frequent bars and—”

“It’s the Mafia—”

“You hate. I know. So stop spending money on booze and women that’ll put it straight into their pockets!” Cliff stood, smacking his Coke bottle onto the bar. His face was a mask of stony anger. “I’m your friend, Roman, probably the only one you’ve got left. It’s my job to tell you what I’m seeing, so I’ll say it again. You’re obsessed and blind. I don’t know if it was the stint undercover or losing Sabina or a festering of old wounds, but you’d better straighten yourself back out before it gets you fired or killed.”

Sermon delivered, Cliff spun on his heel and stalked toward the exit, shouldering aside anyone stupid enough to get in his way. Roman raised his glass to his retreating back. So much for company.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here.”

With a sigh, Roman turned to the girl he’d gotten to know pretty well over the last six months. “Hi, Mary.”

The flapper put a hand on her hip and pursed her red lips. “I’m surprised you’re still in town. Thought Manny and his boys woulda run you out by now.”

“Guess I’m not so easy to shake loose.” He looked over her shoulder, where her boyfriend stood with a crooked grin. “Nice to see you again, Rob.”

Mary spoke again before Rob could open his mouth. “You’re a real sap, you know that? Doing what you did to Bina. You coulda had yourself a girl who’s the berries, and you threw it all away on a bust too weak to stick.”

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