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forehead was covered in droplets of sweat and he gave off a strong odor that was sweaty sourness and something raw. Nicky couldn’t quite identify it, but he liked it. Hank went on, “I’ll be honest with you, all right? If I want honesty from you, I should provide you with the same. So. The answer to your questions is yes. I came here tonight to find you because you missed your appointment today. I don’t have enough clues to solve this crime and I was convinced you held the key to unlocking whatever the puzzle is here. Not to mix metaphors. Then I saw you perform.” Hank shook his head. “I was already intrigued by you. Seeing you sing tonight was something else entirely.”
    â€œSome men try to rationalize it. I look enough like a woman all done up this way, so it’s all right to lie with me.”
    â€œI don’t need to rationalize anything.”
    Nicky could only hope that was true, or he’d be in a cell by the end of the week. “You’ll understand my caution.”
    Hank leaned close again. Nicky couldn’t lean either way, confined to his position by the corseting and the stiff fabric of his gown. He had to be content to let Hank steer this conversation. He still didn’t trust Hank. And he wondered if Hank didn’t find him as frivolous and shallow as he portrayed or if Hank could see through it.
    â€œI do understand,” Hank said. “But I want you to trust me.”
    Hank’s face was so close. Nicky imagined if he leaned forward just a little, he’d be able to feel the bristles of Hank’s mustache brushing against his lips. But it was all a fantasy. There was no way a man like Hank could realistically care anything for Nicky except as a sideshow freak.
    â€œWell, darling,” Nicky said. “It is my occupation to endeavor to make people happy. I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”
    Hank let out a disgruntled choking sound. “No, damn it all. I want you to tell me the truth.”
    â€œAnd I have told you I don’t know anything. Men come and go here at all times of the day and night. I couldn’t tell you who most of them are. The only piece of information is the one I keep telling you, that Edward was with some man in expensive clothing last night. You are a smart man. You can make a picture just as easily as I can. Likely Edward was picked up by a man from uptown who decided to reassert his dominance over the situation by hurting Edward. I think I would recognize him if I saw him again, but who is to say Edward didn’t encounter someone else in the back room?”
    â€œI want to solve this case.”
    â€œAnd I appreciate your conviction. But what can I do?”
    It wasn’t an expression of indifference so much as of fear and frustration because Nicky couldn’t figure out how to help. Thinking back on his brief conversation with Charlie the night before, he also fretted there was nothing that could be done, that Hank could be as fierce and tenacious as he clearly intended to be, but he would never get anywhere. Other men would die. Such was the way of things.
    â€œNicky.” Hank spoke softly.
    Nicky looked at his lap, his hands crossed there, his fingers long and graceful, he supposed. He always thought it was his hands that betrayed him; they looked too square and masculine, not feminine enough.
    But none of that mattered now because there was a different hand cupping his chin, lifting his face up. Nicky gazed into Hank’s eyes and felt utterly bereft for a moment. In Hank he saw something that looked like hope. Hank would march in and solve all his problems. He’d rescue the boys trapped in this life. He’d offer a hand, a way out . . .
    But of course, he would do none of those things.
    â€œI will solve this case,” Hank said, never looking away from Nicky’s gaze.
    Nicky felt trapped in the strength of that gaze, in that conviction. The greenish irises of