Chapter 31

Le Curieux Cabaret was no Criterion Club, which Saffron had joined Elizabeth in visiting a number of times, but the owners had done their best to make the space elegant. It was housed in a large building that Saffron guessed had once been a bank, or something like it, as it had tall ceilings decked with columns and entablature whose flaking paint had been painted over, giving it an oddly crackled texture. Deep red fabric hung from high points on the walls, gathered and lit to create dynamic shadows that rippled slightly each time someone passed them by. It was an interesting solution to the problem of either damaged walls to hide or a lack of pleasing artwork. The round tables covered in white cloths were crowded, and the air smelled of smoke, sweat, and too-sharp scent.

The wood dance platform, built overtop the stone floor, was empty of dancers, save for one.

A girl danced in the center, a spotlight trained on her as she leaped and hopped. It wasn't the dancing that arrested Saffron's interest—though it was rather avant-garde—it was her outfit. Saffron had known she was in for an interesting experience, coming to a cabaret where things were rumored to get particularly lurid, but this was something else altogether. The dancer was dressed in what was essentially a pair of tap pants and a brassiere top—both made of white fur. Matching fur ears attached to a fluffy bandeau wrapped around her head and a delicate tail, no doubt lined with wire to keep it at a jaunty angle, was attached to her behind. It bobbed with each of her skittering leaps.

"Absolutely incredible," Lee murmured as the girl did a jump that forced her legs parallel to the floor.

A moment later, a tall, lithe man emerged from a little structure on the platform Saffron hadn't noticed. He rose to his full height, stretching languorously, which allowed his skintight white suit painted with brown and black spots to hug his impressive figure. The man finished his stretch, then froze as he apparently caught sight of the feline dancer. They stared at each other, the tension between them emphasized by a few short blasts from a trumpet. Then the music broke, and the man—clearly a dog, now that Saffron saw he wore floppy ears—scampered over to the woman. The crowd tittered as he caught her, then swept her up and over his head. The cat dancer lunged backward. The man swung her up and over his head again, then, with startling efficiency, tossed her into a series of acrobatic maneuvers that made Saffron's head spin.

She'd seen some strange things in Elizabeth's company, but this had to top them. She glanced at Elizabeth, but she was murmuring into the ear of a handsome, tuxedoed waiter.

Meanwhile, the female dancer had wrapped her legs around the male's neck as he spun, leaving the woman suspended in midair. A glance at Lee told her that he was ready to burst from either laughter or amazement.

Elizabeth leaned over to whisper in her ear. "We're to wait until the end of this number, then that fellow will show us in." She nodded to the waiter she'd spoken to, now lurking in the corner, avidly watching the dancers.

At the conclusion of the number, to the blaring of trumpets and crashing of drums as the canine dancer swung the feline dancer into his arms one final time and then retreated with her into the little doghouse structure at the edge of the dance floor, Elizabeth got up. She looped her arm through Saffron's, and Lee trailed them as they followed the waiter.

He wove between pillars and past tables until they reached a stretch of the room that was more populated by potted palms than people. The waiter stopped before an open door that led to a dark hall.

"Second door on the left. Knock twice," he instructed in a thick Cockney accent that didn't match his suave appearance. He slipped away.

Elizabeth squeezed Saffron's arm. "Let's see if we can find Alfie."

Saffron might just keel over, Elizabeth thought the moment they entered the smoky back room of Le Curieux Cabaret. And Lee might just kiss her for bringing him here.

It was just as she remembered. Green baize poker tables stacked with chips, roulette wheels spinning away, and dice flying across hazard tables—there was no doubt what this place was, though they likely had clever ways to hide the obvious gambling paraphernalia should the police ever come knocking. Elizabeth guessed that the cheap wood paneling lining the walls hid a number of places to stash the stuff. Though alcohol was still plenty legal in England, unlike across the ocean, gambling raids were a common thing. A number of her friends had spent uncomfortable nights in jail cells because of them, and Elizabeth had no intention of joining their ranks. If there was a sniff of trouble, she'd kick their way out if she had to.

But it wasn't the prospect of a police raid that had Elizabeth eyeing Saffron—it was the girls working the floor of the room. They were clad mostly in beads, and those beads did not hide much. It was surprisingly well done, making the girls look exotic rather than tawdry, Elizabeth thought. But Saffron, for all her modernity, could be frightfully na?ve at times despite Elizabeth's best efforts to educate her.

She tugged Saffron away from the curious looks of the men at the nearest table, next to which Saffron had come to an abrupt halt, and linked their arms together as they wandered over to watch a roulette wheel spin to a clicking stop.

"Lee and I will stay here and make some delicate inquiries about our pal Alfie," she whispered to Saffron.

Her friend's worried eyes flashed to hers. "And I'll do what, exactly?"

"You're going to have a look in their back office."

"What back office?"

"These sorts of places always have a place where precise records are kept of who owes what and when their time to repay their debts expires. You ought to check to see if Jeffery Wells or Petrov—or anyone else involved—owed these people money. That's a powerful motive for murder."

Saffron swallowed hard, audible over the renewed clattering of the roulette wheel. "Where is the back room?"

Elizabeth glanced around, but saw nothing readily apparent in the dim corners of the room other than the handful of bruisers who didn't bother making themselves look like anything but the hired muscle they were. They stood at intervals about the room, plainly keeping watch over the patrons.

"Let's take a walk and find out," she murmured to Saffron. She pressed a kiss to Lee's cheek to give herself the chance to mutter, "Play the part, and I'll find you shortly."

Elizabeth chose a meandering path, the two of them idly moving from table to table to get a feel for the place and keep an eye out for Alfie. She'd never met the man herself, but she'd heard he was the sort of fellow who drew one's attention. If he was in the room, she was sure to spot him sooner rather than later.

The air was heavy with smoke and the sort of sickening anticipation that those who needed to win often emitted. She didn't care for it. When she was in the mood for debauchery, she found a place with the sort of easy atmosphere that encouraged bad behavior. This place made her feel like she needed a long, hot bath, and she'd barely been inside for five minutes.

In addition to the waitresses in their glittering strings of beads, a number of women sat at the tables or stood behind their male partners. Elizabeth recognized a woman from a literary salon she'd attended a few months ago and approached her to chat.

"Darling," Elizabeth drawled, bending to kiss the short woman's cheek. She couldn't recall her name, but the radical things she'd said during the meeting were unforgettable. With high cheekbones and a nose like a mountain, her features were equally memorable.

"My dear," the woman crooned back in a thick Slavic accent, pressing her cheek to Elizabeth's. She likely didn't recall her name either. "How are you?"

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "Haven't seen Alfie about, have you?"

The woman frowned slightly at Elizabeth's casual question. "No, I have not seen him. Most unlike him. He usually keeps a close eye on his tables."

Elizabeth's stomach swooped unpleasantly. Alfie's tables, were they? She kept her voice light. "Hasn't made an appearance yet, then? I suppose I can while away some time somehow." With a wave of her white-gloved fingers, she wafted away, drawing Saffron along in her wake.

She kept this up, wandering here and there, placing a bet on occasion at roulette, until she and Saffron had stopped drawing so much attention from the patrons and guards. The bruisers' eyes were sharp, and their poorly fitted dinner jackets bulged in unlikely places, suggesting concealed weapons. That was a change from her previous visit. Elizabeth wondered if it was the gaming tables that had gotten more dangerous or something else. Regardless, their presence wouldn't help with getting answers or slipping around unnoticed.

On one turn about the room, Elizabeth saw what she'd been looking for. Hidden along the wall panels was the outline of a door. Naturally, it was situated exactly three steps away from two of the guards. She nudged Saffron and darted her eyes toward the door. Saffron followed her gaze, then inhaled sharply when she spotted it. Elizabeth drew them in the opposite direction.

Across the room, Lee had engaged the patrons around the roulette table with what looked to be a rousing tale. He was an obnoxious creature, with more good looks, money, and intelligence than anyone was worthy of, but Elizabeth was glad he was at least putting it to good use for once.

A few of the thugs who lined the walls wandered over to the guards close to the hidden door. She overheard one mutter something about needing to check a newcomer at the poker table, and the other grunted, "Go on, then—but 'urry it up."

One of the thugs disappeared through the hidden door. That was confirmation enough that the room contained information rather than a toilet or something. The door was far enough away from the tables that it would be obvious if someone tried to get in. Elizabeth needed a distraction.

A solution came to her, and the moment the man came back through the hidden door, she deposited Saffron at the nearest table and sauntered over to the group of thugs. On the pretense of straightening her glove, she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "The fellow with the mole at the hazard table is cheating."

One of the guards jerked his head around to her. "What—?"

"Don't look at me, you idiot!" she hissed. "If anyone sees me ratting him out, I'm through. But there's a lot of clams on the line, and I'd rather Alfie owe me a favor."

The guard hesitated.

"If anyone asks, I know nothing, all right?" Elizabeth said harshly and made for Saffron.

She counted to five in her head, waiting for the guard to move. At five, she glanced over her shoulder to see the thug was signaling for the others to converge on the hazard table. Elation swept through her, and she pushed Saffron toward the hidden door.