Free Wicked City by Alaya Johnson

who had mysteriously offered to help. Now was not the time to interrogate his advisor about city finances.
    But Mrs. Brandon just nodded approvingly. “Oh, it’s not the city’s money. Jimmy has enough friends to buy him a new suit every day of the year, if he wanted.”
    I felt chastened, and wished I could say something that might impress her. Her face was unlined and firm, but her air of self-confidence and poise made me think she had to be at least forty.
    â€œYou said you’re one of Mayor Walker’s advisors?” I asked. Women might have won the vote, but we were still a long way from equality. It heartened me to see a woman so close to a center of power, for all that I disagreed with her politics.
    She nodded. “It says ‘Special Assistant’ on the letterhead, but I’m his unofficial advisor for Other affairs. I was the one who suggested he speak to you, in fact.”
    â€œAbout that,” I said, “the note was rather cryptic. Why am I here, exactly?”
    Something rustled and then a door in the back of the room opened. The mayor stepped out of it, much to my surprise. I had assumed the door led to a closet, but just behind him I could see stairs winding down.
    â€œThere’s a basement?” I asked.
    Judith Brandon leaned closer to my ear. “A tunnel to the catacombs beneath us. It’s now his dressing room.”
    Jimmy Walker gave me a bright, insouciant grin and came over to shake my hand with an unmistakable politician’s grip. “Miss Hollis,” he said. “Delighted to see you again, in slightly better circumstances.”
    He released my hand and then inspected his own with some astonishment. It was surely a rarity for his guests to greet him with a liberal coating of bicycle grease. I attempted to apologize, but he merely lifted his handkerchief from his breast pocket and carefully wiped away the offending substance with a smile.
    â€œBicycle grease?” he said, to cut through my stumbling mortification.
    â€œHow did you know?”
    â€œThey were more of a childhood fascination, but I remember the smell well enough. Now, Miss Hollis,” he said, pulling up a third chair in lieu of sitting behind his desk, “you must be curious about my rather terse invitation. I apologize, but my esteemed advisor deemed some caution necessary.”
    â€œWell,” I said, forcing a smile. “You have my curiosity and my presence. What’s this all about?”
    â€œForgive me for being so blunt, but it seems you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of trouble. Harboring a child vampire is a serious crime. But I’m sure you know that already—they do call you the ‘Vampire Suffragette,’ after all.”
    I winced. “Yes, I’m aware. But I assure you, I’m completely innocent—”
    The mayor waved a hand lightly in the air, as though my guilt or innocence were immaterial. “I’m sure you are,” he said. “But those rottweilers on the vice squad are another matter, aren’t they? I appreciated your help regarding that business with the mob boss in January. Quite a few people in high places appreciate it, too. In fact, I heard about you from Joe Warren himself. Now, I don’t know, but I think a word from Joe Warren might do a lot to convince those fellows on the vice squad to look elsewhere, especially as you’re innocent.”
    â€œWhy would he do that?” I asked, shocked.
    â€œIf I asked him, I daresay.”
    Joe Warren was our city’s police commissioner, and a good friend of the mayor. If James Walker called in a favor and asked him to stop investigating me, I probably wouldn’t have to worry about any more rooftop visits—or, even worse, striped pajamas.
    Judith Brandon turned to me. “We have a proposition for you,” she said.
    â€œI see.”
    Jimmy Walker shrugged. “I think you’ll find it’s a fair