by Helen Jacey
What was it with the hanging heads? Had I been like that in prison?
The modest decorations continued along the way. Around a corner, Agnes stopped and smiled. ‘Here we are.’
To her left, there was a wall of which the top half was glazed. We peered in. Two rows of white cribs, each one holding a tiny, squirming baby, swaddled in blankets. I was glad we could only peek.
‘Which one?’ June asked, eyes bulging out in joy.
Proudly, Agnes pointed to the general direction of three cots in the corner. June squealed. ‘Oh, she’s adorable! She looks just like you. Isn’t she cute, Elvira?’
‘Yes.’ I couldn’t bear the gushing. I wanted out of this hell.
They oohed and aahed for some time together. Agnes updated June on feeding, burping, changing diapers.
I tried to feign interest, but this was heading nowhere. Luckily, June spotted the bathroom. ‘Can visitors use that?’ She whispered, to Agnes.
‘Sure. Just be quick.’
June slipped across the hall.
I turned to Agnes. ‘So who’s Daddy?’
Agnes gasped. ‘Sorry?’
‘That came out wrong. I don’t have much time and I need your help.’
Agnes folded her arms. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Do they let you know what’s going on in the outside world? You know your old boss is dead? Ronald Hunter?’
A cloud crossed Agnes’s face. ‘I heard about it. It’s awful news.’
‘Sure. Is he anything to do with you being in this place?’
‘I don’t know who you are. But you need to go.’ She pursed her lips.
‘Look. I’m happy for you. The baby’s cute. But another girl he’s got pregnant is facing death row. If he’s got a habit of sowing his seed, it would be real helpful to know.’
‘Ronald Hunter is not the father.’ Agnes said, with a level voice. ‘And you are way out of line!’
‘So no daddy on the birth certificate?’
‘Get the hell out of here, or I’ll scream!’
From behind, June cried out. ‘Elvira! That’s enough! I’m sorry, Agnes. I thought she was going to be more delicate.’ She turned on me. ‘What’s got into you? She just gave birth a week ago. I’m so sorry, Agnes, really I am.’
June pulled me away by the arm. I called back. ‘Think about it, Agnes. Someone Hunter used just like you is gonna die. They already killed her kid!’
Agnes’ expression was hard to read. June’s wasn’t. Horrified.
Mrs. Devine was approaching, the other side of the ornate glass doors. Concerned.
June hissed at me. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you? Wait for me outside! I’ve gotta make this right.’
In the car, I lit a cigarette and puffed on it like it was going out of fashion.
What’s gotten into you?
A few minutes later, June got in beside me, slamming the door behind her. She immediately unwound the window. ‘Well! You just did yourself proud. Jeez, Elvira! You upset her real bad.’
I didn’t want June’s moralizing. ‘Forget you heard any of that stuff about the other girl.’
June gave what was, for her, a sarcastic look. ‘Oh, sure. I’ll just go right ahead and forget all about the fact someone’s kid has been killed!’
‘It died in custody. Mother had a miscarriage.’
‘And you just couldn’t tread gently, could you?’
She was right. I had completely lost it.
‘I don’t care to know a thing about your rotten case! But you had no right to treat her like that! We could have gone for a walk with her, you could have explained the situation. Made her feel comfortable. Do I really have to tell you how to do your job?’
‘She wasn’t going to talk anyway. I could see it in her eyes. She’s cowed. They all are.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Didn’t you see it? The way they’re all hanging their heads, the way they dress like dirt-poor farmers’ wives while the staff glide around in their stylish suits. Gave me the creeps.’
But that’s not all, is it? You know it’s deeper than that.
‘It’s a good place! Those ladies are giving them a chance!’
‘Yeah, a chance to feel like trash.’
‘No! A roof over their heads. Security. Food. Good homes for their kids with decent, caring people who can’t have children of their own.’
I snapped back. ‘Please! So you can see how much she loves that baby. And she’s going to just give it up to some strangers?
June shook her head. ‘Agnes is keeping her baby. She’s going to raise it on her own.’
‘What?’ I glanced at June, genuinely taken aback.
‘The moms do get a choice. Sure, it’s gonna be tough for Agnes on her own. And the kid. She’ll get called names, you know she will.’
You’ve been called those names.
I exhaled. ‘How many of those girls really think they have a choice? Cold water flats, no money to pay for a babysitter. She’ll give it up.’
‘Well, Agnes is gonna try. And I, for one, am gonna help her anyways.’
‘Don’t you have a dress shop to run?’
She huffed, furious. Then she grabbed my cigarette packet, with shaky hands, and pulled out a cigarette. June didn’t smoke.
I’d unnerved her. June’s world and entire values system had been rocked by events in her own life. She had done her best to marry the new June, who had wised up out of necessity, with the old, dewy-eyed June. Most of the time it worked.
But it was an effort for her. Just like me being Elvira Slate was an effort for me.
Feeling guilty, I prized the unlit cigarette from her fingers. ‘C’mon. You don’t smoke. I apologize for going…nuts. The case is getting to me. Race against time.’
‘It’s okay.’
We sat in silence for a while.
June finally spoke. ‘Sometimes I even find myself judging her. Like, wouldn’t the baby be better off anyway with a respectable family? But who’s respectable anyway? How can you know? And then I just get confused.’
‘So long as it’s loved by somebody, that’s the only thing that counts.’
She nodded.
I turned to June. ‘Maybe she’s got some help from somebody. To keep it?’
Maybe a rich man has paid her off, I thought, but didn’t say.
‘I really don’t know.’ June’s voice was flat, and tired.
She wanted this over, so I switched on the engine, the cigarette dangling from my mouth.
31
I had one day to myself before the funeral. One day to forget what felt increasingly like a string of dead ends.
Girls who wouldn’t talk. Leads I couldn’t follow. Attorneys who would get mad at me if they knew what I’d tried to do, particularly about Agnes. I’d have to tread carefully if I told Sonia Parker. There was no way Agnes would testify. Ever.
But screw them all. Dolly was in line for the death penalty. How on earth was she coping?
I made myself an instant coffee and sat on the couch. I had one day to pretend to myself I was having some kind of break. I would put on a pretty frock, some makeup and take myself off to a picture house. Then supper.
I picked up the holiday survival list I’d written to myself on Christmas Eve.
I had to laugh; Christmas Eve felt a century ago.
TRING! The telephone rang. My private line. I definitely hadn’t given this number to Sonia. Barney? Lauder?
‘Hello?’
‘Booby! How the hell are you?’ Beatty’s rich, booming voice.
I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. ‘Oh, my God! How are you? Where are you calling from?’
‘Back in the smoke. Had to cut things short. Client in a jam. No rest for the wicked, eh?’
‘Tell me about it. I’ve got a new case, too.’
‘Career girls, what can I say? Want me to buy you lunch?’
I grinned. I wanted nothing more in the world.
Beatt
y was in her usual corner table, a majestic sight.
She had changed her hairstyle since I last saw her. Now, her steel blue hair was in tighter curls, pinned back on the sides. On top of her head, an oval felt hat in scarlet, with a scalloped structure of lace and felt on top, tilted over her face.
She wore a harlequin wool dress with billowing puffed sleeves, drawn in by tight cuffs. The diamond weave of the fabric was an assortment of purples, yellows, mauves, turquoise and scarlet. Scarlet glass buttons went up to her neck, securing the collar which was wide and pointed. A flamboyant scarlet silk scarf was pinned around her neck by an oval amethyst brooch. This matched the chunky amethyst and gold bracelet on one wrist. The usual array of gemstone rings set in gold adorned her fingers. Her nails were varnished in a bright red.
Next to her, I was somber in my pleated black skirt suit, aqua silk blouse and black cardigan.
I wanted her to see me looking sophisticated and in control of life. I was anything but.
Sitting among the tables with their pristine red and white tablecloths, the picturesque murals of pastoral Sicily in Luigi’s, and the noisy crowd was the lift I needed.
The restaurant was Beatty’s favorite haunt. We would often meet for lunch here. I’d have pasta with a tomato sauce washed down with plenty of red wine. Beatty normally went for lasagna.
Hopefully no mafia would be paying a visit today, to gun some customer down. Poor old Luigi had been forced to close briefly for that reason.
I sipped my Chianti and looked around. The diners looked regular enough.
Luigi came over. He explained all his murals had been repainted as they had been riddled with bullet holes. ‘Terrible, terrible. I wish these animals all stay away. Why they come to Los Angeles?’
Beatty ordered a mushroom risotto. I stuck to spaghetti with a tomato sauce. Luigi sauntered off with the menus.
‘I love my magnifying glass. Thank you so much. I’ve already put it to good use.’
‘That’s what it’s for.’
I opened my purse and passed her a wrapped gift. ‘What the hell is this?’
On the way here, I’d had to buy something, anything.
I watched as she unwrapped it. I felt quite tense, but her face broke into a soft smile. ‘Oh, Booby. Adorable!’
It was a small china dachshund dog, with tiny puppies. I knew she collected anything and everything related to dachshunds. She carefully wrapped them back up in the tissue, placed them in the box and popped it in her purse.
I broke the sad news about Sophia Spark.
‘Poor woman.’ Beatty said. ‘Guess that’s why you jumped at another case?’
I nodded. ‘These office overheads sure bite you in the ankle.’
She chuckled, heartily. ‘You know you can always work for me. I could squeeze Barney in, too. I don’t have to keep telling you, do I?’
I smiled, touched. ‘Thanks. It’s a great safety net to have.’
But one I would never fall back on. I could never risk Beatty Falaise being officially enmeshed with me. If I was ever caught, she could be in trouble as some kind of accessory.
I changed the subject. ‘The new case is a tough nut to crack, all right.’
She raised a brow. ‘Go on. What’s said in Luigi’s stays in Luigi’s. You know that’
‘I’m working for Sonia Parker.’
Beatty whistled. ‘Top-of-the-league defense attorney.’ She said she knew of her reputation. Rich clients, and a killer-diller in court.
‘You know about Ronald Hunter?’
‘Jeez, you’re on that case?’
I nodded. ‘I feel more like an errand girl than a PI. Sonia asked me to do some things. If she’s got an angle, she’s not sharing it with me.’ I would avoid telling Beatty about the huge risk I had taken with the watch. She would be angry I’d been so stupid.
‘Do you have an angle?’ Beatty eyed me over her glass of wine.
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I kinda like the wife for it.’
Beatty put down her glass. She pulled down her tortoiseshell spectacles to see me better. ‘Linda Hunter? You think she did it?’
‘She’s the only one with motive. Hunter was not exactly the faithful type. Even Sonia says the killing feels personal. Linda did it and framed Dolly Perkins.’
‘Stabbed to death in bed? It’s certainly got that touch. Did he have a lot of affairs?’
‘I’m not sure. Dolly and another one who I believe fell pregnant by him. I just found out about that girl. I haven’t even told Sonia yet. And he was making a move on his latest secretary.’
Beatty whistled. ‘Jeez. You’ve been busy.’
I explained the little Sonia Parker had deigned to share was that she believed the prosecution would maintain Dolly was inventing the relationship, that she was the instigator. ‘One may have been paid off. She’s not gonna talk to anyone. So far, the press hasn’t even reported that Dolly was Hunter’s mistress. But unless we can make any of these girls talk, or find a witness who can testify Dolly and Hunter were together, it’s dicey.’
‘Well, maybe one of his other girls could have done it? Gone nuts with jealousy?’
‘I thought about that, too. But one’s just given birth in a clinic, and the other hated Hunter’s attentions.’ I added that if there were more girls, I might not have time to root them out.
Beatty shrugged. ‘Well, if Parker can get any of them on the stand, it would help establish he was a creep. If she wants to implicate Linda Hunter.’
We met each other’s eyes.
Beatty smiled as Luigi came over with our plates. ‘Risotto for Signora Fa-lay-zee, and for Signorina Sla-a-tee, spaghetti.’ The way he pronounced Slate sounded like ‘slutty’. I concealed an involuntary giggle, but I think Beatty noticed.
I did my best to arrange my face into what just looked like a happy smile, pleased to see such a lovely meal. Anyway, I was ravenous, watching Luigi sprinkle parmesan cheese over our steaming food.
After he left, I picked up the thread. ‘The trouble is, the prosecution could maintain Dolly was just jealous, saw other women like the secretary as a threat. Lost it. Sonia doesn’t tell me much, but it seems like she doesn’t want to give Flannery any more ammo. Anyway, I have no idea of her game plan.’
Beatty leaned back. ‘Someone’s giving herself an education in criminal law!’
‘Want to know the biggest lesson so far? These lawyers are cold fish. You never know what they’re thinking. Even if they’re friendly, they’re secretive.’
‘True, but they pay well. You’ve done great to land this job.’
I smiled, touched by her praise.
We ate in silence for a while. Then Beatty looked up, a porcini on her fork. ‘I’m guessing you’ve considered any of her friends having a beef with Dolly Perkins, setting her up?’
I nodded, chewing. ‘Even looked into it. The only people she knows are a swing band and a roommate. She seems to care for Dolly, understand her. The band all seem to like her. Particularly one girl, Zetty. Guess who’s Zetty’s boss is? Floriana Luciano. Small world, huh?’
Beatty knew about the little assignment I had done for the beauty entrepreneur.
‘The only thing I’ve got now is the Ronald Hunter funeral.’
Beatty nearly dropped her fork. ‘You’re going to that?’
‘Did a deal with Martell. She knows the Hunters and she’s taking me on condition I tell the trustees Sophia Spark is definitely dead, so Martell can write the ending to her movie!’
‘Just like Martell to look out for numero uno. But Booby, you’ve got to be careful. A helluva lot of reporters will be outside.’ She gave me a meaningful look. ‘Does Randall Lauder know about all this?’
‘No. He’s away. And what’s the point of him giving me a detective license, if I can’t use it?’
Beatty eyed me. ‘His idea was for you to do cases that don’t attract attention.’
I shrugged, twisting spaghetti on my fork. I could never tell her we
were having an affair. I shrugged, acting nonchalant.
‘I won’t tell him. Just seeing it from his perspective, is all. I know you’ll be careful.’
‘I will. By the way, that’s another thing. Don’t you think Linda Hunter’s kind of rushed into burying her husband? It’s like she wants to start ‘46 single! Maybe she’s got her own fancy man.’
‘Some folks like to get it over real fast. Religion, maybe.’ Beatty put her fork down. ‘Ever wondered if somebody could be framing Linda Hunter, not Dolly Perkins?’
I stared at her. What was she getting at?
‘You mean the real killer wants Sonia to go after Linda Hunter, and what, Dolly’s like some kind of diversion?’
‘Why not?’
‘But everything points to Dolly being set up. Dolly was sleeping with him. She discovered the body. And she ran away. Predictably.’
