“You have to know something,” Sam said in desperation. “Did he never say anything to you that made you wonder? Or, I don’t know, mention working with someone other than Sullivan?”
Norman had made use of the powder dispenser in the men’s room, and a drop of sweat cut a line through the makeup as it tracked down his face. “No. Of course not.”
“I don’t believe you,” Alistair said in a low growl. His eyes shifted to a point behind Norman. “And I don’t think Teresa does either. Do you, Teresa?”
Sam realized Zola had deliberately seated Norman here out of the way, beside a huge potted plant, when Teresa slunk in her cougar shape out from behind it. Her greenish-yellow eyes fixed on Norman and she showed her fangs, all the while shielded from view of the rest of the room.
Norman’s eyes went wide, and his throat worked as he swallowed convulsively. “P-Please…”
“Don’t make me get Wanda out here,” Alistair said. “Just answer a very simple question, so Teresa can get back to work.”
Norman paled even further. “All right; all right! Just please, call her off!”
Sam wasn’t entirely sure what Norman was afraid of. Did he actually think Teresa was just going to maul him in front of everyone? That was silly; there would be a stampede of panicked customers if she did. Plus Teresa had always been nice; she wouldn’t just hurt someone for not talking.
But Norman thought she would. Assumed she would.
For the first time, Sam really understood how the Gattis had remained more-or-less independent operators, except for the protection money they paid Sullivan to keep away the police.
Alistair gave Teresa a small nod. She shifted into human shape and put a hand on Norman’s shoulder. He flinched from her touch, and her fingers tightened, nails digging in. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said sweetly.
“We will,” Alistair responded. Once she was gone, he folded his arms over his chest. “Talk. Now.”
Norman swallowed again. “Listen, I don’t know any details. None. But Eldon…he liked to gamble. Not a lot, but we’d go to a few places on the regular. One day, someone he’d done hexwork for gave him a couple of passes to a joint called The Black Rabbit. Ever heard of it?”
“Vaguely.”
“It’s very exclusive,” Norman said. “The only way to get inside is to have a special hex, and those are tightly controlled. There’s a dress code, too—they only want high-rollers in there.”
Sam frowned. “Eldon had some money, but he wasn’t rich.”
“He should’ve remembered that himself.” Norman rubbed at his face, smearing powder everywhere. “He was winning at first. Enough they started to offer him drinks on the house.”
“And he was stupid enough to take them,” Alistair said in disgust.
Norman looked pained. “He’s dead—have some respect.”
“I’d have respect for him if he’d earned it. Instead, he got himself offed, and now Sam has to deal with the fallout instead.”
“He never did like dealing with you,” Norman said with a glare. “Said you were a real asshole.”
Alistair’s grin exposed his teeth. “He was right. Go on.”
Norman turned to Sam. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this? Because I don’t think this guy is giving you good advice.”
“A man threatened me!” Sam exclaimed. “If it weren’t for Alistair, I wouldn’t know what to do. So just tell us what you know.”
Norman sighed. “It’s your funeral.” He finished off the cocktail in front of him. “Of course, Eldon put up bigger and bigger stakes, right up until the moment the house won. He was escorted up to the manager’s office when he confessed he couldn’t pay. I don’t know what was said, but when he came back, he didn’t seem that worried. Said he’d negotiated a deal that would leave everybody happy.”
“What was the deal?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know.” Norman sat back. “Honestly, I didn’t ask. I’m not sure who runs the The Black Rabbit, but given where it is in the Loop, I’m guessing Ignatz Ursino is in charge. And I don’t want any trouble with him.”
At Sam’s questioning glance, Alistair said, “Ursino is a bear familiar who runs a gang in the North Loop, right up against Sullivan’s territory. People who cross him have a bad habit of disappearing.”
“Oh,” Sam said, heart sinking. If Ursino was the one sending men to threaten him...well, it wasn’t good under any circumstances, but this sounded really bad. “Do you think he killed Eldon?”
“Had him killed—he wouldn’t have done it himself,” Alistair said, before turning back to Norman. “Do you think Eldon tried Ursino’s patience too far? Or maybe outright refused to deliver?”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know.” Norman made to take another gulp from his glass, realized it was empty, and put it back down. “The thing about Eldon is, he acted in such a way you thought you knew him. He was talkative, seemed open, but since he died I realized I didn’t know that much about what he did when he wasn’t right there in front of me.”
“That makes two of us,” Sam muttered.
“So how do we get one of these hexes to The Black Rabbit?” Alistair asked.
“I don’t know, but I can tell you who might have one on him.” Norman shifted uncomfortably. “The client who gave Eldon the passes was a guy by the name of Charlie Vit. My impression is that he’s a regular at the Rabbit, but we ran into him at Club Grimalkin, over on Dearborn Street. You might find him there.” He held up his hands. “And that’s all I know, seriously.”
Alistair fixed his orange-brown eyes on Norman for a long moment. Then he nodded. “All right. Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Rose.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Norman muttered. He pushed his chair back, then turned to Sam. “Take it from me, kid, you don’t want to get mixed up in all this. Go back to Gatesville and forget you were ever here.”
“No. I’m seeing this through,” Sam said firmly.
Norman shook his head and stood up. “Good luck, then. You’re going to need it.”
As the last stragglers departed for the night, Alistair cornered Holly sitting at the bar, sipping a drink on the house. Tonight she wore a peach chiffon dress, paired with a feathered bandeau. She’d kicked off her shoes and propped her silk-stockinged feet on the barstool beside her.
“I need your help with something,” he said.
She took a cigarette from her gold case. Alistair lit it for her. “Thanks, pal. You’re the cat’s meow.”
Alistair rolled his eyes, and she laughed. “What do you need?”
“I’ll explain in the back, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s all the same to me.” She grabbed her drink and sashayed into the kitchen. Sam was there, elbow-deep in hot water.
“Reinhold, I need to borrow Sam,” Alistair said. “Just for a few minutes.”
Reinhold grunted assent. Sam grabbed a towel to dry his hands, and Alistair found his gaze drawn to the other man’s bared forearms. They were covered with a light down of auburn hairs and freckled like his face. Alistair had the sudden, absurd desire to run his hands along them.