by Alice Duncan
“Well, now they’ve got Mr. Gaylord Pinkney. Even his wife wants it to be him.”
Ernie’s eyebrows lifted and he grinned at me. “Yeah?”
“That’s what it sounded like to me. He’s dead set against her involvement in the Angelica Gospel Hall, and that’s about the only thing she’s interested in now that her best friend is deceased.”
“Sounds like a pathetic life to me.” Ernie grimaced into his soup.
“Well . . .” I let out a smallish sigh. “It does to me, too.”
“Can’t she join the library guild or a garden club or something?”
“I guess she has a religious bent.”
“Huh.” Ernie sipped more soup.
“What about the son?” I asked, feeling a trifle frustrated.
“Clean as a whistle.”
“You’re sure?”
“Phil’s sure. And I trust Phil.”
“I’m not so sure I do anymore,” I said, thinking black thoughts about Phil Bigelow, even if he was Ernie’s best friend. Glumly, I sipped more of my own soup. It really was good. “Well, I don’t think her husband did her in, either,” I said, laying my spoon on the plate, surprised that I’d managed to finish all the soup that had been in it. Maybe I was hungrier than I’d thought I was.
“Phil’s opinion, too. And mine,” said Ernie, leaning back so the waiter could pick up our soup plates. “Poor man’s been a total blubbering mess ever since you found the body.”
He would have to bring my discovering the body into the conversation, the mere remembrance of which made me shudder, wouldn’t he? “Of course, he could be faking his grief,” I said, not believing it.
“I suppose so, but I don’t think so. Neither does Phil.”
Well, that was just great. We were eliminating suspects right and left. I decided to lead the conversation in another direction on my own, even without Ernie’s prodding.
“Lulu’s coming with me to the Angelica Gospel Hall this coming Sunday.”
Ernie’s eyes bulged. “Lulu? She’s doing what?”
“She’s coming with me to the Angelica Gospel Hall.”
Darned if he didn’t lean back and laugh. For the first time in a long time, his laugh sounded as though he were truly amused.
I couldn’t help but grin myself. “It’s true. In fact, she came over to Chloe’s house with me last night, and we picked out a dull gray suit for her to wear on Sunday. I don’t think the Angelica Gospel Hall folks would appreciate her usual attire.”
“Lordy.” Ernie actually had to wipe tears of amusement from his eyes. “I’d love to see that.”
I shrugged. “You can come, too, if you want to.”
“No thanks. I don’t like going to church. Had too much of that when I was a kid.”
Now there was an excellent topic of conversation, and one that was totally unrelated to the case: Ernie’s childhood. I didn’t know a thing about Ernie as a child. As a matter of fact, it was difficult for me to imagine him as a little boy in knee britches. He seemed to me as if he’d always been . . . well, Ernie.
Before I could pry, however, the waiter was back, carrying lots of dishes full of wonderful, delicious-smelling things, which he placed on a rotating lazy-Susan-type of device on our table. Ernie twirled the gadget and said, “Dig in.”
So I took a little bit of everything. Actually, I took two spare ribs and three shrimp. I love Chinese spare ribs and fried shrimp. Not that my taste in food matters to the story. I just mention it.
“I suppose you’re going to poke around some more at the church. That’s why you’re going, right?” I noticed that Ernie had taken several ribs and lots of shrimp, so I didn’t feel quite so piggish.
“Right.” At least we’d been provided with silverware. Since I’d worked for Ernie, I’d been with him to Chinatown a time or two. He favored a little noodle place on the other side of Hill, where the only eating implements were bowls and chopsticks. I wasn’t a chopstick expert at that point in my life, although using chopsticks was another skill I aimed to master with more practice.
“I can’t quite feature Lulu in that joint.” He shook his head and grinned.
“I can’t, either, but she’ll be one more person to talk to the people there about Mrs. Chalmers. I figured it can’t hurt to revisit the church and pry a bit.”
Shaking his head, Ernie said, “I don’t know, Mercy. I think you’re wrong about the church angle. We already know that Pinkney guy wrote the letters, but he didn’t have anything to do with the church. It’s his wife who’s the church person. It’s a long way from being against a church and sending poison-pen letters to killing the dame.”
The dame? I stared at Ernie over the food piled in the middle of the table. “I thought you liked Mrs. Chalmers. Now she’s a dame?” My voice was cold even to my own ears. But really!
“Sorry. Actually, I didn’t like her much. She was pretty, but she was . . . loopy.”
“Well, I suspect you’re right about that, but I still don’t think you should call her a dame. That’s not a nice thing to call anyone, Ernie, especially one who’s no longer with us. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to speak ill of the dead?”
“Yes, Mother,” he said.
I could feel myself blush. “Well, it isn’t a very nice thing to call anybody.”
“I know. I’m tired and out of sorts. Anyhow, you know I use bad language all the time, so you ought to be used to it by this time. Let’s forget the dame thing, okay?”
“Very well.”
“In fact, let’s forget the case. Just for a little while? Can you at least do me that favor? Please?”
His voice had an honestly pleading quality to it that surprised me. Gazing at him in the dim light, I once again noticed how tired and wan he appeared. He looked nowhere near as awful as he had on that ghastly Thursday when I’d found him tied up and drugged, but he was clearly worn to a frazzle. And worried. My boss, the ever-nonchalant Ernie Templeton, was definitely worried.
“Yes, Ernie. I can do you that favor.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anything else to talk about. I sensed his childhood would have to wait.
Fortunately, Ernie took care of the problem for me. “So what are you going to do when Chloe and Harvey move?”
Aha! A new topic, and one that interested me almost as much as the case.
“I’m thinking of buying their house and having Lulu and maybe another working girl or two live there with me. You know, as tenants. There are suites of rooms there that would make great apartments.”
Ernie had speared a shrimp and dipped it into the wonderful sauce Hop Luey’s provided for same, but his fork stopped in midair, and the shrimp dangled there, dripping red sauce like blood. “You and Lulu are going to be roommates?”
He sounded so incredulous, I took umbrage. “Yes. Lulu thinks it’s a wonderful idea, and I’ve also thought about hiring Mr. and Mrs. Buck. Mr. Buck can still work at the Figueroa Building, and Mrs. Buck can be cook and housekeeper.
The shrimp made it the rest of its way to Ernie’s mouth, and he chewed thoughtfully. Then he grinned. I wasn’t sure I liked that grin. I felt a sarcasm coming my way and braced myself.
“You and Lulu. Roommates. With a cook and a housekeeper. Exactly how much are you going to charge Lulu for this change in her status? Will she be able to afford it on the wages she gets as receptionist at the Figueroa Building? I know you can afford it, but can she?”
I struggled to find a hot retort but couldn’t. Instead, I nibbled on a sparerib and thought. It had always galled me that Ernie teased me about “coming from money,” as he’d put it. But, darn it, money meant a whole lot, especially to people who didn’t have any, and Lulu didn’t. I’d be darned if I’d gouge my tenants, provided I could find any besides Lulu to rent an apartment from me.
After I swallowed, I said, “I haven’t looked into the money angle yet. I’m sure I can peruse the Times classified ads and see how much people pay for nice apartments.”
&nb
sp; “Yeah. It’s the nice part that might put it out of Lulu’s range.”
“Darn you, Ernie, Lulu and I are friends! Do you honestly think I’d make her pay more than she can afford for an apartment in my own house?”
He shook his head, looking weary and almost overwhelmed. “No, I don’t. See? That’s the thing. You don’t have a clue about how real people live. You’d probably end up letting her stay there for free. Then she’d feel guilty, and eventually you’d end up feeling used and abused. And that situation wouldn’t be Lulu’s fault.”
My heart squished, and I felt my face heat up again. “Do you really think I’d do that?”
“Not on purpose.” He waved an empty chopstick in the air—the restaurant had provided chopsticks for adventurous diners, and Ernie was an expert with the implements—and said, “But you might end up doing it anyway.” He paused for a minute while I fumed and felt humiliated. “Tell you what,” he said eventually. “Let me help you with this new enterprise of yours.”
I blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I can help you. I’ve been on my own a hell of a lot longer than you have. I’ve rented places for a long, long time. I assume Lulu has, too. She’s probably rented some dump of an apartment somewhere ever since she got here from Oklahoma, or wherever she’s from. I’m sure if we work on this together, we’ll figure out something that’s fair for you and Lulu both. And any other girls you can find to rent apartments to.”
Humbled, I said, “You do?”
“Yes. I do. Your heart’s in the right place, kiddo. I know that. So does Lulu. But you need a few lessons in life before you charge into things. I’ll be happy to help you.”
“Thanks, Ernie.”
“Any time, kid.”
We ate in silence for quite a while. I wasn’t certain I liked being called kid by Ernie, although I know he didn’t mean anything bad by it. I only wished he’d think of me as . . . well, his equal, I guess. Kid didn’t sound equal to me. It sounded as though he considered me a child in need of a big brother.
But the word did remind me of something else. “Say, Ernie, did you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Three sisters and a brother.”
“My goodness. That’s a nice-sized family.”
He gazed at me squinty-eyed. “You think so, do you?”
“Let me guess,” I continued, only faintly daunted. “You’re the oldest?”
“Yup.”
“You’re . . . from back east, aren’t you?”
“Sort of. Illinois.”
“Don’t they call that the Midwest?”
“Yeah, although I don’t know why. It’s more east than west, if you ask me.”
“I think so, too.”
He eyed me again, looking far from pleased. “Why are you asking me all these questions? You trying to dig up my past for some reason? You can’t blackmail me, because I don’t have any money.”
I ignored the last part of his comment. “Well . . . yes, I’d like to know about your childhood, but not for any sinister purpose. I’m just interested. That’s why I’m asking you these questions. Do you mind that? You don’t want to talk about the case, after all, and we have to talk about something.”
He shrugged. “I guess I don’t mind. My father worked in a shoe plant in Chicago, and I grew up there. In Chicago, not the shoe plant. My mother still lives there. My sisters are all married, and so’s my brother.”
“What about your father?”
“He died a couple of years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He was a pig.”
Oh, my. I decided not to pursue the father issue.
“Do you stay in close touch with your family?”
“Not close touch, no. I send ’em Christmas cards.”
“Boy, I wish I could get away with that with my parents and my brother,” I blurted out before remembering I shouldn’t say things like that.
Ernie only grinned again, so I guess he didn’t mind. “My folks were just too . . . I don’t know. Stiff and religious. You know the type?”
“I think so.” I thought about Mrs. Pinkney and Mrs. Chalmers, whom I guess were both religious, although Mrs. Pinkney didn’t seem awfully stiff, and Mrs. Chalmers definitely wasn’t. Actually, come to think of it, in street parlance she was definitely a stiff, although that’s not what Ernie meant.
Ernie interrupted those fruitless thoughts. “My father read the Bible to us kids every day and used his belt on us when we did anything he didn’t like, which was most of the time. My mother just stayed in the background. I think she was afraid of him. God knows the rest of us were.”
“That doesn’t sound like very religious behavior to me,” I said, indignant that the childish Ernie had been so badly treated.
“It’s religious, all right. Whether it’s Christian or not is another matter entirely.”
Interesting way to put it. I pondered for a second before I said, “Good point.”
“How about you? Your parents have a religious streak?”
“Hmm.” I thought about it as I munched some fried rice. “Not really. We all went to church on Sundays, but I’m sure that’s only because doing so was expected of us. My mother always made sure she fit into what she deemed society would expect of her. She was involved in all the church women’s activities, joined the best social clubs. That sort of thing.”
“I can see that,” said Ernie with a nod as he sprinkled soy sauce on his chow mein noodles.
“It seems to me that the only thing my mother cares about is what society thinks of her and, therefore, her children. That’s why she’s so irked with me.”
“I’d call it more furious than irked. She considers you a rebel and a disgrace to the family, I’ll warrant.”
I’d have sighed if I didn’t have a mouth full of shrimp. As soon as I swallowed, I asked, “Did Chloe tell you that?”
“Tell me what? Your sister and I don’t chat on a regular basis.”
“Tell you that Mother called me a disgrace to the family.”
“Ha!” Ernie fairly hooted. “No. I just figured your mother would use an expression like that. She sure hates me for hiring you.”
“Well, she’d be happy to know you offered to fire me.”
“Would firing you put me in her good graces?” Ernie eyed me cynically.
I caught his meaning. This time I did sigh. “Of course it wouldn’t. She’d merely continue to pretend people farther down the social ladder than she is don’t exist. She hates that I’ve brought lowness into her limited vision.”
“You have had dealings with some pretty low types since you came to work for me,” said Ernie, grinning like the fiend he sometimes was.
“Yes, that’s true. But I’ve also met Lulu and you and Phil Bigelow—although I’m truly annoyed with Phil at the moment—and Mr. Emerald Buck, who is a very nice man and ever so much more competent than Ned ever was.”
“Ned was nuts,” said Ernie succinctly.
“True.” But I didn’t like to think about Ned.
“Your mother got kind of interested in the spiritualists, though,” he said, mentioning another case of ours in which spiritualists had been involved.
“She did, indeed. She also nearly fainted when John Gilbert and Rene Adoree came to dinner at Chloe and Harvey’s house the other night.”
“John Gilbert and Renee Adoree? My, my, you do move in exalted circles, don’t you?”
I didn’t like the tone that had crept into Ernie’s voice. It was the tone he used when he thought I was being hoity-toity, which I’m not, curse him. “No, I don’t,” I said firmly. “Chloe and Harvey do. I was there because I live with them, and our mother had demanded to meet some stars of the silver screen. God knows why. She doesn’t approve of them any more than she does me.”
“Well, at least they’re famous,” Ernie suggested, and I was pleased to hear his voice return to normal.
“In her eyes, being famous is vulgar,” I
told him.
“Good God.”
“Exactly. So don’t you dare tease me about my background, because it’s not my fault. And, as you can tell, my mother is definitely a hypocrite. My life in Boston was stifling, and I’m ever so much happier living in what I consider the real world and what mother considers the squalid side of life.”
“You’re an interesting girl, kiddo,” said Ernie.
I lifted my chin. “Thank you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” he said then, spoiling the moment. “Charlie Wu once told me there’s a Chinese curse that says, ‘May you live in interesting times.’ Meaning that interesting times are generally pretty rough.”
“Well, I’m not rough,” I said with some asperity.
“Definitely not,” agreed Ernie.
I’m not sure he meant it as a compliment.
Chapter Fourteen
Taken all in all, our meal was enjoyable. And I thought it quite kind of Ernie to offer his assistance in setting up suitable rental schedules in the event I actually did buy the Nash home on Bunker Hill and let out apartments. The lovely home could eventually be kind of like a boardinghouse, only not run-down, like the ones Ernie had told me about. It made me feel sad to think that Lulu might be living in such a dismal place as Ernie described. If I did buy the Nash home, I’d be sure to keep the interior light and airy and serve good food.
Another good thing about that evening was that Chloe didn’t tease me after Ernie drove me home. In fact, she invited him in for a glass of sherry.
He agreed and was soon sorry he’d done so, because all Chloe and Harvey wanted to know about was the Chalmers case. I finally understood the term “grill.” Both Chloe and Harvey grilled poor Ernie like a fish over hot coals. No matter how many questions they asked, however, Ernie buffaloed them by saying he was prohibited from talking about official business.
“But I thought you weren’t a policeman anymore!” Chloe cried in dismay.
“I’m not, but as a private investigator, I’m unable to talk about my clients’ cases with others.”
