This Dame for Hire (15 page)

I turned on the water and when it was warm enough, put on my bathing cap, stepped in, picked up my rubber hose with the spray head on it, and started my shower.

When I left my apartment, Jim Duryea was in the hallway. He tried to act casual, like he just happened to be there, but I knew different.

“Hello, Faye.”

“Hi, Jim. I’m runnin late as usual.”

“I hope you won’t be late tonight.”

“No, I won’t,” I said. Uh-oh. I’d forgotten and wasn’t paying attention. “I mean—”

“Oh, Mother is going to be so pleased. I’ve told her all about you.”

All
about me? That’d be one short conversation. “I told ya I was on a case that might make it tough for me to show, Jim.”

“But you just said you wouldn’t be late.”

“I wasn’t thinkin.”

The look on his face was so down in the mouth that I couldn’t take it. “What time?”

“How would seven be?”

“Ya have to understand that somethin might come up which would make it impossible.”

He moved closer, and his breath smelled of sardines. “Faye, this would mean so much to me. You have no idea.”

“I’m
gettin
the idea.”

“I’m a wonderful cook.”

“It isn’t that, Jim. It’s my work.”

“Surely you could take a couple of hours away from your work.”

“What I do isn’t like that. If an important person in a case can only see me at seven tonight, then I gotta see that person then.”

“Well, do you think that’s going to happen?” He was actually wringing his hands.

“I have no way of knowin, Jim. That’s what I’m tryin to tell ya.”

“I’m making sweetbreads with baby asparagus for an appetizer and braised rabbit for the entrée. And, of course, Zito’s bread. Then for dessert a hot chocolate mousse that—”

“Where’d ya get the rations for all that?”

His face flushed. “I’ve been saving them up for this occasion. And Frank at Ottomanelli’s helped me.”

How Jim’s destiny landed in my mitts was beyond me, but that’s how he made me feel. “Jim, I’ll do everything in my power to get to dinner on time.”

“If you’re a little late, it won’t matter.”

“Okay. I gotta go now.”

“See you later, Faye.” He waved as I made for the outer door. I wiggled my fingers in the air without looking back.

Out on the street I tried to focus cause I had work to do. But I couldn’t get Jim’s face outta my mind. When I said I’d be there, he looked like a little boy who’d just found his long-lost puppy. Even if something did come up, unless it was the murderer wanting to confess, I was gonna get to that dinner.

Porter, Myrna, and Cornell were all in the living room when I arrived. Kinda like finding a firing squad waiting for me.

“What news do you have?” Porter asked.

“Alec Rockefeller is a con man named Leon Johnson.”

Pursing his mouth, Porter said, “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

I was dealing with a character who couldn’t stand being wrong.

“Mr. West, it
is
possible. I’ve met with Johnson.”

“He admitted pretending to be a Rockefeller?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Outrageous. Have you had him arrested?”

“On what charge?”

“Impersonation. False representation. Fraud.”

“The fact is, Mr. West, he wasn’t impersonating anyone cause there
isn’t
an Alec Rockefeller. Anyway, he didn’t do anything criminal.”

“What do you mean? He might have killed Claudette.”

“But he didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“He has an alibi.”

“How do you know it’s real?”

“It’s been confirmed.” The last thing I wanted to do was bring in Gladys Wright as the alibi witness.

“By whom?”

“I’m sorry, but right now that’s privileged information.”

Porter’s face looked like it might explode. “I’m paying you, Miss Quick.”

Myrna put a hand lightly on his leg, and he shook it off. She whispered, “Porter, please.”

“I know yer paying me, Mr. West, but I’ve told ya before there are certain things, sources, that I can’t reveal. It would compromise me for work in the future and in some cases compromise you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. We don’t want everybody knowin that you hired me, do we?”

“I’m not ashamed of it.”

“That’s not the point. It’s best to keep these things as hush-hush as possible. You’ll have to take my word for it. Leon Johnson has an alibi.”

“Outrageous,” he said again.

Cornell Walker said, “Porter, why don’t we give Miss Quick a chance to explain things to us.”

“Us? Frankly, Cornell, I don’t even know why you’re in on this meeting.”

Walker flinched like he’d been slapped. I thought about Gladys telling me Cornell was boring. I’d have to keep an ear out for that.

Myrna, sitting between the two men, was looking kinda peaky.

“I’m in on this meeting because Claudette was my niece, Porter. You think I don’t care who killed her?”

Porter ignored him. “Then we’re back to Richard Cotten, aren’t we?”

“Not necessarily. Another reason I came up here was to ask you for a favor.” I expected Porter to say “outrageous” again, but he didn’t. “I know this is gonna sound odd, and I’ll understand if ya don’t wanna go down this avenue, but I have to ask.”

“Get to the point, please,” West said, checking his watch.

“I know someone who specializes . . . there’s somethin I’d like to try. A colleague of mine uses a technique that’s a little unusual, but I respect her, and it’s worked before.”

“What is she, a clairvoyant?” Cornell asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Not
exactly
?” Porter said. “Are you thinking of suggesting a séance?”

“No.” I could see how this was gonna go over. “My colleague is psychic and—”

Porter bounded up and started pacing. “Miss Quick, is this why you’ve gotten me here, to waste my time?”

“I know how this sounds, Mr. West. Hear me out.”

“I’m curious, Porter,” Myrna said.

He glared at her as if he hoped the look would clam her up forever. I wouldn’t put money on it.

“Go on,” Cornell said.

“I told you to stay out of this,” Porter said.

Cornell squeezed his fists at his sides. “And I told you that I care about what happened to Claudette. I think we should listen to what Miss Quick has to say. What have we got to lose?”

I didn’t find him so boring!

“Well, I’m beginning to think I should fire Miss Quick,” Porter said.

I stood up. “If ya wanna do that, feel free.”

“No,” Myrna said.

Porter said, “What did you say?”

“I said no. We’re not firing her.” She stood up.

With everybody standing I didn’t know what to do next. I was glad to see Myrna was bucking Porter and not just cause I wanted to stay on the case.

“I think we should all calm down,” Cornell said.

Porter looked like he wanted to deck him, but he turned his back to all of us instead. I could tell that he was breathing hard.

The rest of us stared at his back, silent, waiting for his next move. I watched his breathing slow and then he turned back to us.

“Let’s all sit down,” he said. The picture of reason, at least for now.

“What exactly is it that you’re proposing, Miss Quick?”

“My colleague—”

“Who is named?”

Oh, no. Anne didn’t like people knowing about her. “I don’t see what her name has to do with it,” I said.

“I suppose that’s confidential, too.”

“Let’s just leave her nameless for now, okay?”

“
Her.
Another female.” Porter said.

I ignored him. “My colleague works by touchin clothin of the deceased.”

Myrna said, “Oh, I’ve heard about that.”

“From where?” Porter asked.

“I’ve . . . I’ve read it, I guess.”

“In some ridiculous woman’s magazine, I suppose.”

Myrna looked down at her hands, and I knew her emancipation was over.

I went on quickly. “If ya have a piece of clothin that Claudette wore, I’d like to take it to my colleague.”

“We have all her clothing,” Myrna said. “We haven’t been able to part with it yet.”

“
You
haven’t,” Porter said.

“Will anything do?” she asked me.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go get something.” She hurried from the room.

Porter said, “You’re giving her false hope.”

“There’s a chance we’ll get some help from this. As Mr. Walker said, what’ve ya got to lose?”

The two men glared at each other.

“Mr. Walker, is it just you two?”

“Two what?”

“Sorry. Brother and sister. Are there any others in your family?”

“Myrna’s my half sister. Her father married twice. Myrna’s mother died when she was small. Her father married my mother, who already had a daughter, Gladys, my other half sister, and then together they had me.”

So Cornell and Myrna had the same father, and Cornell and Gladys had the same mother.

“And where is she now?”

“Who?”

“Gladys.”

“God knows,” Porter said.

“Why do you say that, Mr. West?”

“She’s a wild thing. Married three times before she was thirty.”

Myrna came back in the room carrying something pink clutched against her breast.

“It’s a sweater,” she said.

“That’s fine.” I stood up and held out my hand, but Myrna hesitated.

She said, “I
will
get this back, won’t I?”

“Sure,” I said.

“What does it matter now, Myrna?”

“Please, Porter.” She handed me the sweater.

“Thank you. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will.”

“When is this miracle going to take place?” Porter asked.

“Within the next twenty-four hours.”

He sneered. “Does it happen at midnight?”

“Not usually.” I wasn’t gonna let him get to me. “I guess I’ll be goin now. Thanks for cooperatin.”

“When will we hear from you?”

“I won’t call tonight cause we’ve just seen each other. But tomorrow night per usual.”

“What if you know something before tomorrow night?”

I almost laughed cause I knew he was referring to what the sweater might reveal. He wanted to believe the psychic contact would work. “Then I’ll call ya right away. I can see myself out.”

At the door Cornell stopped me.

“Miss Quick. Please don’t let my brother-in-law put you off.”

“Oh, he doesn’t.”

“Good. He’s a lot of hot air, you know.”

“You don’t like each other much, do ya?”

“I think that’s safe to say.” He smiled. Him I could go for, cleft chin and all.

“Any special reason ya don’t like him?”

“I don’t like the way he treats Myrna, for one thing.”

“When we first met, ya said ya liked him.”

“I know. I didn’t want to indicate my real feelings in front of Myrna.”

“How did he treat Claudette?”

“That’s complicated. He adored her, but she was more his possession than his daughter. He acted as if he owned her.”

“But he didn’t treat her like he treats his wife?”

“Oh, no.”

“Would ya say he loved his daughter?”

“Yes. But when Porter loves someone it’s not pure. It’s laced with a kind of quid pro quo. He gave her anything she wanted, and she gave him total loyalty.”

“In what way?”

“I hate to say this, but she and Porter were lined up against Myrna. Claudette always took her father’s side, and sometimes they’d make fun of Myrna.”

“How did Myrna take that?”

“Well, she was never sure what they were up to because they joked about her in French.”

“Nice,” I said.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about Claudette, Miss Quick. She was a wonderful girl. And if she defied Porter, like she did with that Cotten boy, he’d get very nasty.”

“Let me ask ya somethin, Mr. Walker. Do you think Porter West was capable of killin his own daughter?”

“I think Porter West is capable of anything.”

SEVENTEEN

Anne Fontaine’s apartment was on the East Side in a tenement on Avenue A overlooking Tompkins Square Park. She shared her building and the area with immigrants from Germany, Poland, and Russia. Anne liked it cause most of them didn’t speak English, so she didn’t have to talk to anybody.

Her place was a third-floor walk-up in a small building with only two apartments to a floor. Hers was at the head of the stairs.

Anne opened the door as I hit the second to last step. I’d called ahead but hadn’t said exactly when I’d be there.

“How’s tricks?” I said.

“Not a good way to greet a psychic,” she said, smiling. We went inside.

It was a one bedroom. In the kitchen, next to one wall, was a bathtub on curved legs and clawed feet. The WC was off the living room, where it was always like night cause Anne didn’t open the heavy curtains on the two windows.

She had a bamboo sofa that was colorfully covered in a striped pattern, ditto for the two bamboo armchairs. Between the living room and the bedroom hung ceiling-to-floor strings of colored glass beads instead of a door. All the walls had bookcases crammed with books she’d read. I think she had more books than I did. But her taste and mine weren’t quite the same. She read about philosophy, explorations of the occult, traveling on inner journeys, what I might’ve called hocus-pocus if I hadn’t known Anne.

“I made us some tea,” she said.

Uh-oh. I knew what this meant. Green tea. Bitter and nasty-tasting. No sugar allowed.

When she went into the kitchen, I sat in one of the chairs with my pocketbook and the Lord & Taylor bag in my lap. I eyeballed the room to see if there was anything new, but it seemed like the only additions were books and more books. They were stacked everywhere, some on a kinda angle that made yer heart pound a little faster.

“Here you are, Faye.” She handed me a white mug with
CHILD’S RESTAURANT
printed on it. Steam rose from the mug as I put it on a small, wobbly table next to my chair. Anne sat across from me on the sofa.

“So,” she said. “You brought me a piece of Claudette’s clothing.”

I hadn’t told her this on the phone. I’d just said I wanted to see her. But it didn’t bowl me over or anything, cause I was pretty used to this kinda thing from Anne.