AN More of an exposition-y chapter, but I promise you there is some Good Stuff coming :o
Matt fought not to pace as he waited for Karen and Foggy to knock. Telling them about Claire, explaining her role in this terrible situation, that had been easy. Foggy had been serious in his compassion, heart torn over the thought of Claire seeing such a horror. Karen had been more aggressive in her concern, pushing to her feet and nearly knocking her chair over as she demanded they help.
But now, inviting them to face not Claire, the unknown lead in a tragedy, but Claire, the woman that tended his wounds in the boxing hall and that currently slept in his bed and made him want to grab the stars and moon and stuff them into her hands just to prove that he did care...
That was a Claire he was nervous about them meeting. It exposed too much, too much of his wants, fears, and flaws for him to ever be comfortable with.
But she had introduced him to her family. It was only fair that he do the same with his.
Claire sat on the edge of a chair in the living room. Her gaze was out of focus, but she sat perfectly straight. She looked flawless, not a wrinkle in her dress, not a hair out of place. Matt felt a ripple of pride that she refused to appear like some helpless damsel in need of rescuing.
The hall creaked beyond his door, sending his heart into his throat. He stared at it, waiting, breath held in anticipation of the knock.
Claire jumped at the sound of someone's fist on the front door. Matt heard her stand up as he went to let his friends in, their hearts probably falling into the same frantic rhythm.
Matt opened the door and let Karen and Foggy in. They offered him quiet comforting smiles, but their eyes strayed over his shoulder to find Claire. Foggy saw her first, then flicked his eyes back to Matt in surprise. Matt's stomach tightened. He'd neglected to mention Claire was Hispanic. Which wasn't a problem, but it raised more questions, which meant more answers, which meant more of a truth he didn't know how to tell. Didn't want to tell, not when it felt so impossible to get right.
But Foggy stepped past Matt like a perfect gentleman, hand extended. "Foggy Nelson."
"Uh—Claire Temple," she said, voice starting shaky but growing stronger.
"And I'm Karen Page," Karen said, sticking out her hand. "I'm glad you're okay."
Claire blinked once, then gave a quick smile. "Thank you. It's nice to meet you both."
"Matt told us what happened," Foggy continued. "We'll help any way we can."
Claire watched him for a long moment, then let out a slow breath. "Okay. Thank you."
"Here, let's get settled," Matt said, slightly amazed that he could speak past the lump in his throat.
Karen and Foggy obligingly removed their coats and hats, then walked to the living room. Karen produced a notebook and pencil from her bag as she sat at attention on the couch. She looked expectantly at Claire, who shifted from looking at her and Foggy. She cast a quick glance at Matt like she needed reassurance.
Foggy noticed, then gave him a long look of his own. Matt hadn't seen that particular expression in a while. It was the one that assessed the potential damage of whatever stupid thing Matt had done this time. Signing up for the war, coming back with the inability to sleep without being plagued by nightmares, going to bare-knuckle boxing halls to tame (sate) the demons in his soul, they all earned the weary, determined stare Foggy had perfected so well.
Matt couldn't tell what earned it now, though—harboring a woman that gangsters might be after, or letting a woman he cared too much for sleep in his bed?
Not that Foggy knew that. He couldn't, not from just one glance. Though Matt suspected that maybe Foggy would figure it out in two.
Foggy sat on the couch next to Karen, while Matt lingered by Claire's chair. He couldn't sit down, there was too much nervous energy strumming through him.
"Where do you want to start?" Karen asked.
Claire frowned at her. "Start what? Matt told you everything, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did. So, now I'm wondering where you want to start to take these bastards down."
Claire blinked at the woman before her. She was pretty in a way that slightly clashed in Claire's head. Her features were fine and almost elfin, a princess in a fairy story. Except there was a hardness to her that didn't belong in a children's tale, something belied by her stark makeup and blonde bob. Claire could see the hints of something dangerous in Karen, something that boded ill for those that got in her way.
"I…don't understand," Claire began. "Take them down?"
"We think things are heating up," Foggy said, fishing something from his pocket. He wasn't what Claire would call attractive—he was a little too chubby, his features a little too plain—but there was something appealing about him. He had a wounded seriousness to him, like he personally felt the pain of Claire's predicament. He seemed like a nice man, with the same high-energy earnesty Mr. Solano had had.
Claire swallowed and accepted the newspaper he pulled out of his pocket.
"From this morning," he said, looking from her to Matt.
Claire skimmed the article. It chewed over the official story of what had happened at the tailor's shop, only now it demanded the capture of this strange vigilante they were trying to blame. She frowned at it.
"They keep talking about the vigilante," Claire said. "Why, what's he got to do with this?"
"If they're trying to shift the attention off any potential mob activity, that would do it," Karen said. "People—well, some people—loved him when he was digging a hole in gangsters' pockets, even if he did smash up a few sills in the process. It made them feel like these thugs couldn't do whatever they wanted, just because they trafficked in booze."
Claire nodded. She knew that, she'd been one of those people until just a couple of days ago.
"But if he's just as bad as the mobsters…the line between love and hate is only so big."
"It kinda feels like two birds with one stone," Foggy said, shrugging. "Cover up the murder, get this guy off their back. If it really is one guy, which I have my doubts on."
Claire handed the newspaper to Matt. She made herself look at Foggy as she said, "If they're leaning on the papers, then they have connections. What's the likelihood that they know about me?"
"I'd guess they're searching your neighborhood," Karen said, leaning forward. "It's a good thing Matt was there and could offer you shelter in Hell's Kitchen."
Claire nodded again, face heating. She said a quick prayer that none of these gangsters would be led back to her family. Then she prayed Karen wouldn't ask why Matt had felt the need to go all the way to Spanish Harlem to talk to her. Unless Matt had already told them. Which was frankly too mortifying to even consider at the moment.
"You really shouldn't go back there," Foggy said. "Try to avoid any place you've had contact with."
Claire pressed her lips together, refusing to look at the smug validation Matt undoubtedly had on his face.
"But—I thought of something that might help us," she said. Matt shifted behind her, his triumph just as easily turning to disapproval.
"What?" Karen asked, eyes lighting up.
"I think Mr. Solano gave me a clue before he died, some hint as to what on earth he was doing to get mixed up with these guys."
"What was it?"
"He—he told me to look in his desk drawer."
"He actually just said 'desk drawer'. That could be anything," Matt said stubbornly.
"No, I'm sure," Claire insisted. "I still have the key to the store, so we could slip in the back if it's locked. If something's there, we could find it."
"I'm all for pursuing this, but charging in is not the way to go," Foggy said. He slicked his hair back as he thought, catching the few strands that had fallen into his face.
"I think now is definitely the time to charge," Karen said, turning to face him. "I don't think these weasels are going to forget there's a loose end. We can't let Claire live in hiding all her life!"
"How are we going to charge mobsters?" Claire asked.
She stared at Karen, thinking that, while she had felt confident having at least one more clue, she by no means had enough to take on the mob. Surely men that were wealthy enough and powerful enough to fill the city with illegal alcohol weren't about to be taken down by a single woman.
"We don't know who these people are, or how they're connected to Mr. Solano, or even what exactly they're doing. I am all for fighting these people, but I don't see how we can do it."
Karen groaned, rolling her eyes like she couldn't believe Claire was siding with the boys. "Claire, someone needs to stop these people. They're only going to get stronger, and then it will be impossible!"
Claire leaned back in her chair, hands pressed over her eyes. She really, really wanted to sleep.
"How are we going to charge mobsters?" she repeated, murmuring it to get herself to think.
"We do it in court," Matt said.
Claire turned to him, having momentarily forgotten he was beside her. He didn't look down, but rather stared at his friends. There was a slightly resigned expression on Karen's face and a considerate one on Foggy's.
"Court?" she repeated. "That's a way to do it, but we still don't have anything to get them there."
"No, but this is an idea. Now we're not wandering in the dark. And we're not trying to fool ourselves into thinking we can go out in a blaze of glory," Foggy said.
"Solano had to be involved somehow," Karen said, grudgingly giving up her plan of decisive action. "If they had to silence him, he was making noise to someone."
"Who could he have been talking to?" Claire asked. "I had no idea what was going on, and I worked with him every day."
"Police, maybe? Or the feds."
"What are the chances it was a member of the Prohibition Bureau?" Matt asked.
Karen sighed and ran a hand through her bob. "A probie? It's possible, but I don't know them. They're new. They might be on the level, but they could be just as corrupt as the police."
"Who isn't corrupt these days?" Foggy grumbled. He pressed his fingers against his eyes as he spoke. "Booze is really nice to have."
"I think I need a drink myself," Claire sighed.
"Okay, but listen," Karen said, holding her hands out. "If we can find who he was talking to, maybe we can figure out more of what he knew. Work backwards from there. Maybe Solano just suggested a meetup, maybe he told the whole thing. It's a good bet."
"And how are we going to find that?" Matt asked, voice flat.
Karen looked from him to Claire like she knew his gaze would burn. "Go find what your boss meant by 'desk drawer'. The only way we can even hope to fight this is by getting information."
Claire glanced around the room. Karen was determined, Foggy concerned, and Matt… She grimaced when she saw his expression, displeased but closing it off, hiding what he felt. Claire sat quiet for a moment, then straightened.
"Why…are you guys so committed?" she asked. "I'm grateful, certainly, but just…taken aback. Why are you so ready to risk yourselves for me?"
"We just want to right some wrongs," Foggy said with a tired smile. "And from what Matt told us, you definitely deserve some help."
Claire blinked, shocked at the sudden heat of tears. She looked down, smoothing her hands over her skirt as she waited for them to pass. "I—thank you, then. This…has been hard."
"I believe it," Foggy said. "And it's probably only going to get harder. I just have to ask you to stay safe." He looked from her to Matt on the last phrase, as though he knew full well Matt's insistence on taking the brunt of danger.
To Matt's credit, he cracked a smile and nodded. "Of course. We'll be careful."
"Good," Foggy sighed. He stood up and smoothed his hands over his vest. "We've got a court date later this week. I can't have you sporting a shiner while we defend a drunk disorderly."
"Tell us everything you find," Karen added as Foggy walked toward the door with Matt. "This is the best lead we have right now."
"What are you two going to do?" Claire asked.
Karen shrugged. "I'm going to chase down the leads I have, and Foggy…he's probably going to worry and give everyone sage advice. He's the kind of person that keeps everything together, while Matt and I do dangerous things."
"Like what?"
"Get information from criminals."
Claire gave Karen a long look, not sure what to do with the last half of her statement. Matt had said Karen had experience with 'dubious situations', but Claire hadn't thought he meant it quite so…criminal-y.
"Do you…often get information from criminals?"
"Well, not usually, not any more, at least. It depends on the case we're working on."
She considered the woman a moment, then asked, "Is that why you're so good at this? We're talking about something crazy, and you're acting like it's normal."
Karen shrugged again, lips quirking. "Honestly? You wanna know?"
"Yes."
"My dad was a con artist," she said, eyes fixed somewhere around the ceiling.
Claire stared at her. "You're not playing with me, are you? No baloney?"
"No baloney," Karen said, giving her first real smile of the night. It lit her entire face, banishing the image of a world-wearied woman. "We traveled all over Europe. He taught me everything I know."
Claire blinked a few times, then let out a laugh. Why not? Everything else had gone slightly mad.
"And they know?" she asked. She tipped her head toward Matt and Foggy, who were talking by the coat rack.
"Of course," Karen said, her expression turning a little more wry. "We first met because someone framed me after I left the life."
Claire gaped at Karen. "I feel like your office has a lot of secrets in it. I know about Matt's boxing, but what about Foggy? What's he hiding?"
"He bakes," Karen said with a wicked grin. "You should ask him for lemon cake once we beat this."
Claire watched Karen walk out the door, wishing she had at least some of that woman's confidence.
AN I love everyone. I love that they are friends, I love that they trust and listen to each other, I love that they are one big happy family. I just love people making good choices and having supports.
