As Racetrack scaned the headlines the next morning, something caught his eye: "MURDER SUSPECT EVADES POLICE; LEADS NECESSARY FOR CAPTURE". You mean they couldn't even catch the lousy bum?!
Race took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself. He had planned on selling, but circumstances being what they were...
Trying not to draw attention to himself, Race quietly left his stack of papers on the steps of the circulation building and slipped out through the open gates. He had searching to do.
Although his memory was somewhat shady, Race remembered the appearances of Nate and Jim. Toby was another matter - Racetrack couldn't forget the look on his face after he'd murdered Tom Smith, no matter how hard he tried to block it out.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Race dropped his head a little and began to search the streets as he walked. Ducking inside the nearest pub, he sat down at a table and looked carefully around the dimly-lit building; however, there was no sign of any of the young hitmen. Race left the pub and began his street search once more until he reached yet another pub, and entered same as before. This routine continued with no luck for several hours, until Race reached the Blue Diamond and entered expecting the same results as before. However, luck was on his side, for across the room at a table in the corner sat Nate, Jim, and two unidentifiable young men. Toby wasn't among them.
Racetrack slinked over to the table and tipped his hat to Jim, who in turn tipped his bowler. "I hear you fellas got a good business goin'," Race said.
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? What's it to you?"
"Well," Race answered, "I've just abandoned the business of sellin' newspapers to the general public in search of a higher-payin' gig."
Jim gave him a once-over, then nodded toward the table behind them. "Pull up a chair."
Race did so, after which Jim introduced himself as well as the other three young men. "Jim Gaines. That there's Nate, Ashley, and Eli."
Nodding to them, Racetrack said, "Name's Joe DiMarco," a lie, of course. "So can ya give me a run-through of what you fellas do?"
"Well, right now the business is at a standstill," Jim answered in a hushed, discreet tone, "on account of one a' the guys murdered our boss last night. Tom was on the way to a hit down Duane Street when Toby jumped him."
Race's ears perked. "Oh yeah?"
Jim nodded. "Toby thought he was gonna run the business after he killed off Tom, but all he's doin' is runnin' from the bulls." Race nodded as Jim continued. "But these fellas say they want me to run the business now, so I guess once I get my plans in order, we can start hittin' again."
"But what do you do, exactly?" Race asked, becoming more interested than he had meant to.
"Well, I line up your hits, then you find the guy, do 'im in, and keep sixty percent of the profits," Jim answered, more silently than before.
"Don't sound half bad. When do we meet?" Race asked, slightly taken but trying to keep matters strictly about tracking down Toby.
"Tomorrow, noon, here. We used to meet in Tom's apartment but...well, circumstances bein' what they are - "
"I understand," Race cut in.
Jim nodded. "Well, fellas, we'll meet here at noon tomorrow then. Got it?"
The other three young men nodded their compliance. Race looked to each of them. "Nice meetin' you fellas."
"Nice meetin' you, Joe," Jim, Nate, Ashley, and Eli said as Race stood and left the pub. Gradually, the other four young men left so as to keep from drawing unnecessary attention to themselves.
Back at the lodging house, Madeline was sitting by the attic window. She wasn't alone, however; Kid Blink sat with her, keeping her company. The two had shared a conversation for several hours, although Madeline was distant. Blink understood this, and now he sat quietly with her.
Blink turned toward Race when he heard his footsteps on the stairs. "Where were you, 'Track? I ain't seen you all day."
"Eh, out an' about," Race answered, sitting on the floor. "Wanted to try a new sellin' spot or two."
Blink narrowed his eye. "You left your stack of papes at the circulation building."
When Race didn't answer, Blink sighed. "Nice talkin' to ya, Maddie," he said, turning and heading downstairs.
"Where were you, Race?" Madeline asked him quietly.
"Lookin' for Toby," he answered, which was the truth, but not the whole truth. Madeline didn't need to know.
"Oh..." she sighed, looking out the dingy window into the street below.
"You want anything to eat?" Race asked her.
She shook her head. "No. I'm not hungry."
"Wanna come downstairs where it's warmer?"
"I don't care."
Race sighed and looked at Madeline with sympathy. The poor girl had been through too much, and it was really beginning to show. Her hair was unkempt; her face was drawn - too drawn for a girl as young as she; there were dark circles under her eyes. She was very much playing the role of "damsel in distress", and doing it well. Suddenly, she looked up at Race. "Papa was looking for me. Why else would he have been on this street, right in front of this building?"
Racetrack knew exactly why Tom had been on that street; he was going for a hit. It had nothing to do with Madeline. "Maddie, he was going for a hit."
Madeline's head whipped around and she glared at Race with an emotion he'd never seen her display; on top of that, he wasn't even sure how to read the look she gave him. "That's not true. He was looking for me!"
"Maddie, I heard some guys in town talkin' about it today. I didn't see their faces - "
"Jim and Nate...did they see you?"
"New York's a crowded place - "
"He was looking for me, Racetrack, wasn't he?" Madeline lunged at Race and grabbed him by his shirt collar. "Wasn't he?!"
Slowly, Race shook his head, looking into Madeline's eyes. She let go of his shirt as a tear slid down her cheek. Then, instead of letting Racetrack take her in his arms like she had so many times before, she coldly turned to the window and let her silent tears fall.