Firstly, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed – yes there was a series of lame little happy dances from this end!
This is a relatively short chapter for me, but there will be another one up in a few days.
Tiffany pushed open the heavy glass door of the small rundown diner, and her senses were immediately assailed by an overpowering mixture of smells and sounds. The transistor radio sat on the counter was blaring out an old Fifties track; some haphazard tuning meant that every so often the slightly distorted words of the singer would be lost amid a buzz of static.
Behind the counter a stout looking man with a heavily stained white apron appeared to be running his empire with a rod of iron. He was gesticulating wildly, and loudly berating a teenage boy who appeared not to grasp the finer techniques of washing up. Fighting against the cacophony of sound, a tired looking cashier was trying to explain to an elderly patron that he still owed her another thirty cents. Tiffany tried to tune this loud backdrop out of her head and instead concentrated on locating her friends.
The diner was almost empty at this hour; only a few people were sat at the Formica topped tables. There was a young couple, both smoking heavily, and sharing a single cup of coffee between them at one of the window seats; just beyond them an elderly man sat shovelling fries into his mouth as though he'd not eaten in a week. Tiffany's gaze carried on, and she finally spotted Kelly and Kris seated in one of the small booths that lined the far side of the diner.
She sketched a wave, and headed in their direction.
"You sure know how to pick a place to eat," Tiff told her friends coolly as she reached their booth.
"What happened to you?" Kris took in the expression on Tiffany's face and knew that something had been going on. She looked her friend over, and realised almost immediately that her purse was missing.
"You won't believe me when I tell you," Tiffany told her as she slid into the empty side of the booth.
Kelly raised a hand to signal the waitress for some more coffee, before turning her attention to Tiffany. "Did you have any luck in finding Sabrina? The two of us walked all day and came up with zilch."
Tiffany looked between her two friends as she waited for the waitress to pour the coffee from the pot that she was carrying. She'd been trying to work out exactly what she was going to say to the two of them.
She tapped her fingers on her leg impatiently as the waitress decided to alleviate the monotony of her shift by trying to engage them in conversation. It took a few exchanges of meaningless pleasantries before the waitress realised that the three women weren't interested in talking, and she muttered something beneath her breath before shuffling back to her station.
Resolving to leave the poor women a sizable tip, Tiffany sat back in her seat and regarded her friends.
"I saw Sabrina on 42nd and 8th." She waited for their reaction, before continuing. "Just before she set me up to have my purse stolen!"
"Hey, whoa, whoa; back up a little," Kelly held up a hand. "You saw her?"
"She did what!" Kris demanded to know, her tone one of disbelief.
Tiffany reached for her cup of coffee, mindful of the stains that marked the surface of the table. "I'm saying that I saw Sabrina and that, for some reason, your friend decided to set some street mugger onto me. I don't call that exactly friendly."
Tiffany watched as both girls shook their heads.
"There must be some mistake," Kris voiced the thought that they had both shared. "She wouldn't do that."
"I know what I saw," Tiffany replied. "I saw her talking with this young guy, and then the next thing you know, the kid's ripping the purse from my shoulder, whilst she's making a break in the opposite direction." Tiffany took in the look of disbelief on the faces of her friends. "I know what I saw," she told them firmly. "And I'm telling you that she set me up."
Kelly sat back in her seat and shook her head. "I don't understand," she admitted. "That really doesn't sound like her." She paused. "You are sure that it was her?"
Tiffany let out a long sigh. "It was her Kel, no question. It was the same woman that we saw on 42nd a couple of days ago, and you were certain then that that was Sabrina."
She picked up her coffee again, and regarded her two friends. They were sat in silence, trying to make sense of what they had just heard.
"We should go back out there and find her," Kelly finally spoke up, one hand already reaching for her coat.
Tiffany shook her head, as she took another mouthful of the surprisingly good coffee. "From the way she took off, I don't think that she'd go back there today. My guess is that she hit the subway and got out of the area as soon as she'd finished setting me up." She was aware that she was making a big deal out of what the woman had done, but she was still smarting over the incident, and failing to understand what had motivated it.
"We'll come back tomorrow then?" Kelly wasn't about to let the idea drop. "Spend the day searching the blocks around 42nd. We know that she's been seen there twice in a matter of days."
Tiffany placed her cup in its saucer and kept her attention fixed on the chipped white rim. "Did you ever think that she might not want to be found?"
She raised her head slowly; knowing that her words would have upset Kelly.
"That's a ridiculous thing to say," Kelly protested.
"Is it?" Tiffany queried as softly as she could. "Twice we've seen her, and twice she's done everything in her power to get away from us."
"Maybe you spooked her," Kelly argued. "After all she doesn't know who you are."
Tiffany looked at her friend levelly. "There's no reason for her to be spooked. And most regular spooked people don't go to the effort of setting someone up to be mugged. She must have spotted me, and decided that - for some reason - she didn't want me following her."
"Well when we find her, you can ask her about it," Kelly told her friend sharply, finding it hard not to automatically defend Sabrina's actions.
Tiffany looked to Kris to see if she was more open to the idea that something might be affecting Sabrina.
"It doesn't sound like Bri," she reluctantly agreed. "What I wouldn't give to be able to call Charlie right now; maybe he knows what's going on."
"Charlie's back in the country very soon. Trust me, as soon as he lands I'm going to be straight on the phone to him," Kelly announced decisively. She looked between her two friends. "I know we had flights booked to go back home, but I for one am staying until I get to the bottom of this." She stared evenly at Tiffany. "I'm not asking either of you to stay if you don't want to."
"I'm with you," Kris immediately responded, her tone a little hurt at the suggestion that she might abandon her friend. "If she's in some kind of trouble, then I want to help."
Tiffany turned her cup around in its saucer. "Ok," she finally relented. "I'm staying as well. And when we do finally catch up with your friend, I've got a few things I want straightened out."
Kelly took in the firm expression on Tiffany's face, not certain that she liked the way that her friend was treating Bri. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. "I'm going back out there," she told them both decisively. "I'm going back out on the street, and I'm going to stay there till I find Bri."
Tiffany shook her head. "I don't think you'll find her, not today."
Kelly slid out of the booth. "Well I can't just sit here and do nothing," she snapped at Tiffany, raising a hand in apology almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "I just can't sit here, knowing that she's out there somewhere. She's got to be in some sort of trouble and I want to help."
"I understand," Tiffany replied softly. "Do you want some company?"
Kelly shook her head and smiled wanly. "I think I just need to clear my head. I'll see you both back at the hotel."
"OK," Kris studied her friend carefully. "See you in a couple of hours."
She watched as Kelly wound her way through the tables and headed out onto the street.
"Bri and Jill were Kelly's self-made family before we came along," Kris broke the silence. "I think this is hurting more than she thought it would. We just need to give her a bit of space." She stared down into the bottom of her coffee cup. "I sure wish I knew what the hell Bri was up to."
Tiffany regarded her young friend for a moment. "This isn't affecting you in the same way, is it?"
Kris shrugged her shoulders. "Jill moved away from home when she joined the force, and then again when she went to work for Charlie. I got used to it... people moving on. I'm concerned about why Bri's in the city, but Kelly ... I think she's feeling a little betrayed... a little confused."
"Like one of her family let her down?"
Kris smiled thinly. "Something like that." She pushed her coffee cup away from her. "You wanna get out of here?"
"Sure," Tiffany paused for a moment. "But you're going to have to get the check ... I don't have any money!"
Harry Gage watched the fire in the grate as it crackled and spat. He had never wanted much out of life; he'd not expected it to hand him anything on a plate, and if for any reason it did, he was always the first to ask what the catch was. He'd drifted through his time at school, ducking out onto the Brooklyn back streets when a day working the corner for a buck or two seemed more interesting than the lesson the teacher had planned. He'd learnt the art of making a dollar, and that had been enough to earn him a little slice of success.
As time had passed he realised that there were other ways to make money; other ways that meant that the customer would always come back. Selling something that the customer couldn't get through the day without made good business sense to him, and he'd set about building up a network of dealers and runners in Manhattan. He'd chosen his neighbourhood carefully and in no time at all had established himself as someone not to be crossed. Everything north of 38th was his. If someone's pocket was picked in Times Square without his say so, then he expected a cut. Nothing, but nothing went down without someone consulting him. At least that was the way that things had worked for the past twenty years or so.
Things, on the surface at least, were good but in recent months there had been a persistent irritation on the periphery of his business; an intrusion into his dealings that he couldn't allow to go unpunished any longer. He'd watched with interest the way that Warren Rickard had been building up his own business. He'd initially had no problems with the man he considered to be little more than a young upstart, but as time had gone by, more and more alarm bells had started to sound. Reports had been coming back of deals going down in his neighbourhood that had nothing to do with him. Previously loyal employees were now leaving his side and going to work for Rickard. It had soon become apparent that Rickard was trying to muscle in on things.
Recent intelligence had informed him that Rickard was trying to sell on 43rd. He'd sent two of his men out to take care of the problem, but it looked as though they were incapable of completing even the simplest assignment.
He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table as he listened to the litany of excuses that his two employees were coming up with. It was one thing to instil fear into one's employees; it was another to have to listen to them back-pedalling when they had failed to accomplish the task that they'd been set.
He slammed his hand down flat on the desk, and their defensive voices were immediately silenced.
"You missed her again!" The statement required no answer. "I set you one simple job and you can't manage to pull that off."
"She wasn't on the streets today," Branning protested; immediately hearing the slight groan from his colleague.
Gage rose to his feet, kicking away the metal chair that he'd been sitting on. "She wasn't on the streets," he repeated. "Then who do you suppose it was who delivered to Harrington and Smithson?"
His question was met with stony silence from the two men who were standing in front of him.
"Shall I tell you who delivered to them? Shall I tell you who seems to be forever getting to our clients before you do!" He glared at them both, daring them to answer. "Do you need me to spell it out to you exactly how this makes me feel!"
"No sir," Lawson growled, wishing that a hole would open up in the floor and swallow him whole.
"Why do you suppose it is that one woman; one piece of street trash like Mary Thomas can keep getting the better of you?"
Gage paced impatiently across the room, trying and failing to keep a lid on his temper. "I want to send a message to Rickard; I want him to understand clearly that he can't keep sending people onto my turf and expect to get away with it. As things stand he's getting away with everything he tries."
"Thomas didn't have anything on her the last time we stopped her," Branning blurted out, again earning himself another sigh from his colleague.
"Branning, do I understand that you have seen Thomas on the street recently?" There was a dangerous edge in Gage's voice; a fact that wasn't lost on Branning. He considered his words carefully before answering.
"We saw her a couple of days ago. She was down on 34th, near Penn Station. She wasn't carrying, but we made sure that she knew not to come up past 34th." The lie came easily from his mouth; he'd learnt that mixing the truth with a little fabrication was the safest option.
Gage fixed Branning with a steely glare. "I'm sure you scared the life out of her," he remarked without humour. "You scared her so much that she came straight back up here the next day and made a drop. I want you to find Miss Thomas. I want you to find her and follow her home. I want to you to send a message to Rickard, and I want you to make it clear. Do you think you can manage that!"
Branning exchanged a look with Lawson. "We'll get the message through," he promised. "This time tomorrow, Rickard's gonna have to start looking for a new runner."