“Quite serious, I assure you.” She pointed at the card he held in his hand.

“Anyone could have these printed.”

“Are you going to let me talk to the detective who’s investigating her case or not?”

The man scowled, making his bushy blond eyebrows meet in the middle. Without a word, he walked through a door and out of sight. He returned a few minutes later followed by a fortyish man with strong cheekbones and striking green eyes. The first policeman returned to his duties at the front desk while his handsome superior continued into the lobby. Cassie turned her most charming smile on him.

“Are you the detective?”

“I can’t have reporters interfering in my case.” He spoke in a rough Irish brogue.

Her face fell. Clearly this man was not one to be charmed. “I’m merely asking for information.”

“What does the News Desk want with this story anyway? And why send you?”

“I’m the women’s editor—”

“Women are reading missing persons cases now, are they?”

“I’m simply trying to ascertain where the investigation currently stands. Mr. Walker’s lawyer—”

“What lawyer has he got?”

“Mr. Greene—”

The detective harrumphed. “No good swindler, that one.”

“I’m sure such a description applies to many lawyers you encounter, Mr.…”

The man glared at her. “O’Neill.”

“Mr. O’Neill. I really am not trying to interfere, but only would like to know what has been done to locate this woman.”

“Did this Mr. Greene tell you that Mrs. Walker’s maiden name is Tiatelli?”

“No, he failed to mention that.” She hesitated, hating to reveal her lack of insight, but needing to know the answer. “And that’s important why?”

“One of the biggest crime families in the city,” he scoffed. “Mr. Walker’s been feuding with them for years.”

“But she’s never gone missing before, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“With all due respect, then clearly something has changed.”

“That whole clan is a nuisance. I suggest you stay out of it and stick to writing about who wore what to the Astors’ ball.” He spun on his heel and stalked away.

Cassie chewed her lower lip as she considered her next move. This only got more intriguing. Feuding crime families? But if that were really the crux of it, why would Mr. Walker make such a fuss about his wife’s disappearance when it would only serve to bring attention to the matter? To try to force the police to bring down his in-law’s network, perhaps?

There was something here. She just had to figure out what. She would give Mr. Ellerbee his fluff piece on the cookbook, but she would continue investigating on her own. Maybe she would finally have a real story to report on, a byline she could be proud of.

She tamped down her enthusiasm. This was about Mrs. Walker and her safety, not Cassie’s ambition. She would ensure Mrs. Walker returned safely home, and if it helped Cassie’s career in the process, so be it.

Two

Cassie unpinned her hat quietly in the hall, hoping her father wouldn’t hear her arrive home. She normally only spent half the day at the office, but with all her stops this afternoon, it was nearly suppertime. The maid, Lacey, appeared to take her things. Cassie indicated silence with a quick shake of her head. Lacey obliged and took the hat and gloves without a word. Cassie set a foot on the first stair.

It squeaked.

“Cassie, is that you?” her father called from the parlor.

Cursing silently to herself, Cassie descended the stairs. Once in the parlor door, she said cheerily, “How are you, father?”

He unfolded himself from his favorite armchair in the corner. Her father was a large man, tall and hefty, and his height translated to a lankiness in his daughter that could be either elegant or awkward, depending on the moment.

“Where the devil have you been?” he asked. “I have a young man coming over for supper tonight.”

Cassie groaned. “Who is it this time?”

“A young man from my office. He’s the new amanuensis to the mayor. Quite capable, not bad looking.” Seeing Cassie’s pained expression, he added, “You should feel lucky he’s coming. There aren’t many men who are interested in a maid of nearly eight-and-twenty.”

“That’s exactly why I’m groaning. He’s either an ogre or he’s just trying to ingratiate himself with you.” Her father had been prominent in New York City politics for decades, and she had seen enough men grovel at his feet to know exactly how the system worked.

“I have to make sure you’re taken care of. Without your mother here—”

“I know, I know. I’m taking care of myself, though, remember?”

“I think you’ll find one day that taking care of yourself is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

She refused to be dragged into this argument once again. “I must go up and change to be prepared to greet our guest.” She turned and stomped up the stairs to her room.

***

Still fuming, Cassie had Lacey bring out her third-best dress, a green muslin with no lace. She didn’t want this Mr. Whoever-it-was to think she was trying to impress him.

When he arrived, she was glad she hadn’t made much effort. He was, as her father had described, not bad looking: about thirty-five, balding, but with a fine nose and kind eyes. Irish, like so many in the New York political machine. She couldn’t help but compare him unfavorably in looks but favorably in temperament to the other Irishman she had met that day, the rude but handsome Mr. O’Neill.

Once they had tucked into dessert and exhausted all the usual dull subjects—the weather, the next election, Cassie’s many feminine accomplishments that might entice a suitor—Cassie ventured into new territory. “Do either of you know about the Tiatelli family?”

Her father coughed. “Where on earth did you hear that name?”

“It came up in a story I’m writing.”

“Tell Mr. Ellerbee you won’t be doing those kinds of stories any more. Stay away from them. Horrible people.”

Cassie, of course, had no intention of staying away from any of it. “What about Mr. Horace Walker?”

Her father frowned. “Who’s he?”