Back in the Proctor sisters’ overstuffed apartment, Hawthorne brushed affectionately against Miss Adelaide’s leg. In the other room, her sister prattled on about the day’s activities. Miss Addie peered into the dregs of Evie’s tea, examining the pattern the leaves had left in the bottom of the cup, and frowned.

THE TOMBS

Detective Malloy swept into the museum, pushing gruffly past the curiosity seekers, silencing anyone who tried to ask him about the Pentacle Killer with a terrifying scowl. “Miss O’Neill,” he said with a tip of his hat.

“Unc isn’t here just now, Detective. Do you have something new?”

He nodded toward the library. Evie had Sam take over and led Detective Malloy to the library, closing the doors behind them. Malloy dropped his hat on the brass statue of an eagle.

“Followed up on that tip your uncle gave us about the Brethren. Turns out there’s been a resurgence of that religious cult the past few years. The townspeople’ve been complaining about ’em. And guess who’s the leader?”

“I’m guessing it’s not Will Rogers.”

“Brother Jacob Call,” Malloy said.

Malloy took a handful of nuts from the crystal bowl on Will’s desk. “They say he’s been preaching about Solomon’s Comet coming through, and the Beast coming with it.” He let this settle. “Turns out, he raises livestock and comes down to the city every few weeks to sell to the butchers.”

“He’s a butcher!”

“Yep. And he was here for every one of the murders. I had the boys pick him up and bring him in. But so far, he’s refusing to talk to us. Thought I’d have your uncle take a crack at him.”

Evie bit her lip. “Detective, could I have a go-ski?”

Malloy’s eyebrows went up. “At questioning a possible killer? I’m afraid not.”

“He might open up to a girl. After all, I’m not a threat like the police.”

“I admire your spunk, Miss O’Neill, but this is not your job.” He tipped his hat and wished her a good day.

Evie raced out into the hall as soon as he left. The museum was packed with people, and for once, she wished it weren’t. She hopped up and down, trying to be seen over the heads of the paying customers. “Sam!” she called. “Sam Lloyd! I need you!”

Sam came to her side, grinning. “I knew you’d come around.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Take a shower, pal. I need you to help me get into the Tombs.”

“Haven’t you already learned your lesson?”

“Oh, Jericho!” Evie called. “Could you take over? I need Sam for a mission of utmost importance.”

“I could help you with that,” Jericho said.

“You already are!” Evie trilled. She linked her arm through Sam’s, dragging him toward the door. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Sam and Evie borrowed Will’s old car for the ride from the Upper West Side down to the city’s notorious jail. It was a long drive, and Sam was in a chatty mood. “Your friend Mabel still goofy for the giant?”

“Jericho? Mm-hmm,” Evie said, nearly flinching at the words your friend Mabel.

“What is it about that guy?”

“You just don’t like him because he hates you.”

“That isn’t the only reason,” Sam said.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I suppose you like the giant, too.”

“Jericho? Oh, he’s nice enough, I suppose.”

“So you don’t like him,” Sam said, smiling.

“I didn’t say that.”

They had passed the many music publishing houses of Tin Pan Alley in the West Twenties and were close to the fashionable town houses of Gramercy.

“You have a steady fella?” Sam asked after a bit.

“No fella can hold me for long.”

Sam gave her a sideways glance. “That a challenge?”

“No. A statement of fact.”

“We’ll see.”

“You still owe me twenty bucks,” Evie said.

“You’re a lot more like me than you think, Evie O’Neill.”

“Ha!”

“What I meant to say is, you like me a lot more than you think.”

“Keep driving, Lloyd.”

The car jostled along, past a flock of dark-suited businessmen holding fast to their bowler hats in the stiff wind whipping off the East River and barreling down the canyonlike streets.

“Got a little something for ya,” Sam said. His smile was cryptic.