Wolf raised his hands in tacit permission. Joe grabbed Anna’s arm, leading her out into the corridor and deeper into the building, away from the crowd. He opened the door of a broom closet and pulled her inside. It was dark and small.
He faced her. “You smiled at me. You know how long it’s been since you smiled at me?”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and sweet. She kissed him again. She felt like she was in the Sonora desert, once more outside of Yuma, thirsting in the sun, and Joe was the champagne she needed to sustain her.
When she paused for breath, he asked her, “What was that for?”
“You destroyed Samara Flossie’s testimony.”
“I was telling the truth.”
“She wasn’t.”
“Anna, something’s happened between Samara Flossie and the Black Pearl. They’re no longer almost engaged. It’s why Samara Flossie flipped her testimony. She was protecting him before. Now, she’s a woman scorned. She wants revenge.”
Anna stepped away from him. “So, you’re saying her pack of lies is proof that Georges is the Black Pearl? Hah! That he tried to pay her off?”
“Anna. I know he’s your brother and you love him, but you have to face the facts. Otherwise, you’re in danger. What if he killed Samuel? What if he’s bringing rich men to the Jonquil to ruin young girls? He’s bad news, Anna. I want you away from him.”
“I’m not afraid to face the facts. Because I know in my heart that Georges isn’t capable of murder. Just like you know I didn’t do it, and I know you couldn’t do it because, although you’re being a complete ass right now, you’re too good. And there’s such a thing as being too good, Joe Singer. Throw any fact at me, I’m not afraid.”
“Georges had a motive. He has no alibi. His print is on the gun.”
“I’m taking my kiss back.” Anna tried to kiss him backward, to suck back her kiss, but it didn’t work. It seemed very much like she was kissing him again. She tried it once more.
Joe Singer was kissing her, taking nothing back. He held her to him with a sort of desperation. Anna rubbed against him to wipe his touch back off. And there it was. His cock stand, and his hand on her bottom through three blessed layers of fabric. “Yes,” she whispered. “No. Yes.”
“I love you, Anna. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”
“No, yes, yes, yes.”
He dropped to his knees in the dark.
Anna emerged from the closet glowing and confused, with Joe Singer on her lips, wondering if she knew anything at all about the world. They returned to their separate seats, Wolf scooting to make room for her on the pew. She felt Wolf’s curious gaze on her. Anna turned around to look at Joe with wide-eyed wonderment.
He stared at her with longing across the courtroom.
A man entered and hurried down the aisle, passing a note to the deputy district attorney. The prosecutor seemed pleased, and Anna’s thoughts snapped from Joe’s dreamy, suffering eyes, back to the trial. The deputy district attorney stood and asked permission to approach the bench. Earl Rogers followed him, and they whispered with the judge. Anna, who had completely unwound in the closet, wound tight again.
Earl Rogers shrugged to his legal team as he returned to his seat. He whispered to one and began a game of telephone; the message passed from lawyer to lawyer along the chain.
The prosecutor stood. “I call Allie Sutton to the stand.”
Anna paled and wound tighter. They’d found her. They’d found Allie Sutton. Anna looked at Wolf, wide-eyed. “It’s not his turn. The prosecution is done bringing witnesses.”
“She’s on the witness list, but they couldn’t find her. Apparently, she’s just now been found. The judge is going to allow it.”
“Can’t we stop it? She was in league with Samuel Grayson. She’s a blackmailer.”
Wolf’s lips flattened. “No, honeybun. I don’t believe we can.”
Allie Sutton waddled from the back of the courtroom, obviously pregnant. She swore on the Bible and took the stand.
The deputy district attorney began. “Miss Sutton, did you live at the Jonquil Apartments?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you do there?”
“I slept and ate mostly.” She turned to the judge. “That’s a silly question.”
“Were you gainfully employed at the time?”
“Yes. I’m an actress. And I write scenarios for the movies.”
“Did you have a relationship with the Black Pearl?”
She looked down. “Yes, I did.”
“And how old were you when this liaison began?”
“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen.” He paced. He was trying to be dramatic. “Sixteen and unspoiled.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Tittering erupted in the courtroom. The prosecutor coughed uncomfortably. “Sixteen nonetheless.” He paced some more. “What was the nature of your relationship?”
“We were lovers. He wooed me, like any other suitor. Flowers. Gifts.”
“Money?”
Allie Sutton colored. “Yes. But it wasn’t like that. We were in love, he and I.”
“Maybe you were in love, Miss Sutton, but I doubt Georges Devereaux was in love. He eats little girls for breakfast, doesn’t he?”
Earl Rogers jumped to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor.”
The dyspeptic judge scowled. “Sustained.”
“Who else was Georges Devereaux in love with. How many girls did he ruin at the Jonquil Resort?”
Allie Sutton asked. “If you please, who is Georges Devereaux?”
“The Black Pearl. Your lover.” The deputy district attorney seemed put out.
“I was his only lover. Where is the Black Pearl?”
“He’s the defendant, sitting right here.” He gestured to Georges.
“That’s not the Black Pearl. The Black Pearl has golden hair.”
A low rumble of voices shook the courtroom like a trembler.
“But that’s not what you told police.”
“From a picture in the newspaper. The ink was badly smeared. It’s true, this man here is like the Black Pearl. He’s got the same cleft chin, similar shoulders. But I assure you, the Black Pearl has golden hair. This man has black hair. Besides, I know the father of my baby. It isn’t him.”
“It isn’t who?”
“The defendant—Georges Devereaux did you say? He is not the Black Pearl.”
Anna squeezed Wolf’s arm and whispered. “See. He’s not him.”
The deputy district attorney scrunched his eyebrows together. “Are you still lovers?”
“No. I left the Jonquil Apartments and hid from the Black Pearl.”
“Why?”
“I found out he was married. I want nothing to do with a married man.”
Joe, unsmiling, was recalled to the witness stand. He would surely tell the truth and discredit the one witness who spoke in Georges’s favor. It was the right thing to do. He would do the right thing. He always did.
The deputy district attorney mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. “Detective Singer, did you bring Allie Sutton in for questioning?”
“No. She brought herself in.”
“Did you show her a picture of Georges Devereaux from the newspaper?”
“No. She brought in the newspaper and showed Assistant Matron Blanc and me. She said she was sure he was the Black Pearl.” “Was the ink on that photograph smeared?”
“Not that I recall.”
“No more questions.” The deputy district attorney returned to his chair.
Joe remained in the stand, and Earl Rogers stood. “You say you don’t recall if the ink was smeared.” He said it like a statement, not a question.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. No further questions, your honor.”
Joe’s ears turned red. He came down from the witness stand and took his seat. Anna’s stomach flipped. Earl Rogers had just taken anot
her bite out of Joe Singer. She wanted to sit with him and cheer him up. With her lips. She kicked herself for thinking it. Then she kicked herself for kicking herself. She thought about the very lovely broom closet, then pushed it out of her mind.
The defense called Georges. He rose with dignity, like a Blanc, and took his oath. His black hair was perfect. Anna sat up straighter in her seat.
Earl Rogers began. “Georges Devereaux, are you the so-called Black Pearl?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Did you know a man named Samuel Grayson?”
“No, I did not.”
“But didn’t he write you a letter threatening to tell the world you were the Black Pearl unless you gave him large sums of money?
“He threatened to tell my wife that I slept with girls at the Jonquil Café.”
Earl Rogers leaned up against the stand. “Mr. Devereaux, are you married?”
“No.” “Have you ever been married?”
“No.”
“The victim didn’t know much about you, did he?”
“We had never met.”
“Had you corresponded?”
“He sent me one letter. I never responded.”
“Did you sleep with girls from the Jonquil Café?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then, why would Mr. Grayson think you did?”
“I ate at the Jonquil Café for lunch.”
“You were a regular customer?”
“No. Just three times. I had a series of business meetings there. When my business was concluded, I never returned.” Georges made a face. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
There was tittering in the courtroom.
“I should say not. How did Mr. Grayson know where to send the letter?”
“It is my belief that he followed me home and asked the doorman for my name. The note was left at the front desk of my hotel. My name was spelled wrong.”
Georges continued to answer Earl Rogers’s questions to great advantage. Until Mr. Rogers asked about the gun. Then Anna noted that Georges was gripping the wooden edges of the witness stand, his knuckles whitening. He began to tremble.
Anna stood up, frowning at the front of the room. “Excuse me.” She began forging her way between knees and pews.
“Honeybun, where you going?” Wolf stood. He nodded to the man on his left. “Excuse me.”
Georges fell face first onto the witness stand. Anna cried out. She ran forward as he began to convulse and slipped off his chair onto the floor behind the stand.
“Help!” Anna ran to him, knelt, and tried to hold his head.
The room became noisy with voices. Someone shouted, “He’s an epileptic.”
Christopher Blanc appeared at Anna’s side, along with Joe, Wolf, the bailiff, Thomas, who had brought a syringe, and Mr. Tilly. Joe helped Anna cushion Georges’s head, which smacked hard against their fingers. Mr. Blanc squatted and peeled down Georges’s clothes to bare his shoulder. Anna made a sound of distress and frustration. She looked up to see Jeanne Devereaux hovering on the margins. She saw Samara Flossie out of the corner of her eye. The girl looked smug. “Adios.”
Flashbulbs went off with noisy clicks, blinding Anna.
As the men held Georges’s limbs, Anna’s father looked up at Mrs. Devereaux with soft eyes. “Sit down.”
She disappeared from Anna’s view. More flashbulbs and noisy voices. The judge banged the gavel. “No photographs in the courtroom! You are out of order.”
Thomas forced the needle into Georges’s arm, and, at last, he stilled.
CHAPTER 49
Anna sat by Georges’s bed as he slept a morphine sleep, under house arrest. Wolf wandered the apartment drinking Georges’s good whiskey and touching things. He came in and out of the bedroom. She heard him drop something in the living room. Joe stood in the bedroom doorway looking defeated. “That was pure genius, even if it wasn’t on purpose.”
“You think he had a fit for sympathy? I take offense at that. He’s sick.”
“I know. But since epileptics are more susceptible to moral failure, they’ll go easier on him.”
“You still think he’s the killer.”
“I don’t know. I just know you aren’t seeing straight.”
“I’m not seeing straight? You’re not seeing straight. You’re wrong about my brother.”
“Sherlock, prove me wrong. And don’t start with your conclusion—that Georges is innocent—and build your case backward.”
Anna made a sound of objection, her mouth open like a cave in a mountain of confusion. Had Anna done that? It wasn’t very detectively, and it didn’t show faith in her brother.
She closed her mouth. “Fine. I resolve to be brave. I’ll face any hard truth about Georges or about you, Joe Singer. I will see straight. That’s how I will catch the real killer.”
“Okay,” he said softly and put his hand on Anna’s shoulder. “And I’ll be fair. As fair as I can be. I’ll be your sounding board.”
Anna closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to be brave, trying to think like a cold-hearted cop and not like a sister. She arranged the facts in her mind, rearranging, turning them around to consider them. She pictured the park, the trail, Joe’s cock stand. “I’m being heartless like you and it still doesn’t add up. Tell me this, detective—how would Georges lure Samuel Grayson to Griffith Park? Not to the park entrance, mind you, but halfway up the mountain. To go for a hike? Clearly the answer is no. You don’t hike with your blackmailer.” Anna paused.
“Keep going.”
“I’m thinking . . .”
“Think out loud, Sherlock.”
“Who would go hiking with Samuel Grayson or who would Samuel Grayson go hiking with? Not Georges. Maybe his neighbor, Lester Shepherd. They were friends. Except Samuel Grayson wasn’t there to hike. He wasn’t wearing hiking clothes, even though, I’m sure, they make orange ones. He was wearing that awful, expensive, rust-colored suit. He had dressed his best—which wasn’t too well because he had awful taste.”
“I’ll give you all of that. Samuel Grayson wasn’t there to hike.”
“Why was he there?” Anna paced to the dresser, paced back to Joe, standing in the doorway.
“To meet someone who he was blackmailing.”
“He could have done that at the trailhead. It’s isolated enough. There was no one around the day we found the body.”
“So why was he there?”
“Why were we there?” Anna asked.
Joe whispered in Anna’s ear in case Georges could hear. “To make love? That’s why I was there. It’s the most romantic spot in Griffith Park.”
His breath on her neck made Anna tingle. It made her angry at her body. “Then, tell me this, how did Georges lure Samuel Grayson up to the most romantic spot in Griffith Park? Was he wooing him? Or being wooed? Is that how he got him to kneel? Did Samuel propose to Georges?”
“You’re being facetious, right?”
Anna put her hands to her cheeks. “Jupiter. I had a brain wave.”
“What?”
Anna crossed to the bed, leaned down and kissed Georges on the forehead. “I’ll be back.” She grabbed her purse and called, “Thomas, I have to step out. Joe, I need a cop.”
Anna flew out the bedroom door, passing Wolf in the living room, who fumbled the expensive vase he’d been examining. He barely caught it. “Honeybun, where are you going?”
“To catch the real killer.”
Joe followed Anna as she strode to the elevator. The elevator boy did his job, ignoring them.
“It was Samara Flossie, Joe. She was wearing that ugly diamond ring, that ugly, ugly ring. It wasn’t from the Black Pearl. It was from Samuel Grayson—the only man in the world who could choose a ring that ugly.”
Joe buried his face in his hands and groaned.
“Her hand was bruised, remember, I told you? Like mine after I shot Mr. Rooster’s mustache off in Chinatown. Her bruise was from the revolver, because she didn’t
know how to handle a gun. Samuel Grayson proposed, on one knee, and Samara Flossie shot him, reverse execution style.”
“Okay. What’s her motive?”
“Because she wanted to marry the Black Pearl and Samuel was in the way. He had threatened to write her father to tell him where Samara Flossie was. Her father would have dragged her back to Oklahoma, or shot her, and maybe the Black Pearl, too.”
“That doesn’t explain Georges’s print on the gun.”
“It’s Georges’s gun all right—his stolen gun. Who knows where Samara Flossie got it. Probably from that pawn shop across from the Jonquil Apartments.”
“Her prints weren’t on it.”
“She was out of doors, Joe. She wore gloves.”
The elevator rattled as it descended. The door opened, and Anna and Joe strode into the hotel lobby.
“She left him a note right before he died. The apartment manager saw her slide it under his door,” said Anna.
“So, she arranged the meeting.”
“Yes.” Anna produced gloves from her purse and slipped her hands into them. “The trial is going very well. If Georges is found innocent, Samara Flossie can expect to be indicted for blackmail, though I doubt she was involved. She’s going to run, if she hasn’t already.”
“Where is she? Not back at the Jonquil.”
“No. I don’t know.”
They raced out onto the sidewalk and stopped, lacking direction. The morass of moving bodies, animals, and automobiles reminded Anna that they were looking for a needle in a haystack.
“She can’t go to the real Black Pearl. She doesn’t know his name or where to find him. He’s probably married, anyway. I doubt she has an auto, but she has all that money. She’ll probably take the train.”
“La Grande Station then. But which train? Riverside? San Diego? San Francisco? She may have already left.”
“We can take Georges’s car. My old car.” She flashed a brief smile.
“It will take five minutes to start it.”
Joe stepped into the street to hail a hansom.
Anna closed her eyes and pictured Samara Flossie and her smug look as Georges convulsed on the floor. What did she say? Anna’s eyes popped open. “Her last word to me was ‘Adios.’ Lester Shepherd said Samuel and Samara Flossie had planned to go to Mexico.”
The Body in Griffith Park Page 30
