The Sporting House Killing by G. Powell (free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📗

“It doesn’t need a name.”

“Just looks like a house to me.” Jasper waited expectantly, but Cicero didn’t do nothing. “You gonna knock?”

“I think we just go in.” Cicero opened the door and stepped into the entrance hall. “Come on.”

Jasper pushed in close behind him. Straight ahead, a staircase went to the upper story. The piano music had come from a room to the left, and all of the sudden a lady appeared in the entrance to that room. She was all decked out in a tight red corset and a frilly white petticoat. She had black hair pinned up on top of her head and a white flower stuck in it. A red ribbon was around her neck, and a gold locket hung down. Hung way down. Jasper couldn’t help but stare. It sure was hot in there.

“See something you like, honey?” The lady flicked open a fan and fluttered it quick-like, blowing them dangling curls off her shoulder. She leaned up against the door frame and cocked her head.

It was awful hot.

“Welcome to my boarding house, gents. I’m Miss Jessie.” She winked at Cicero. “Why don’t you come in the parlor and get acquainted?”

“Yes, ma’am. We sure will,” Cicero said, hurrying in.

So much for just going to get a drink.

Jasper stood in the entrance for a spell. The parlor was lit up and seemed pretty well-suited to getting acquainted. Everything was just so red, like the color of a prickly pear except brighter. Red sofa. Red pillows too. A mirror that went all the way to the floor. The lamps had red shades and dangling tassels. Red chairs was here and there. A big blue-and-red rug had designs all over it like flowers and such. A piano was up against one wall, but there wasn’t no bar and there wasn’t no beer.

He should probably go on into the parlor. “We was only wondering if we could get a cold drink, ma’am.”

“Why, of course you can,” Miss Jessie said, taking a seat. She leaned back, draped one arm over the chair back, and with the other hand drew her petticoat back to show off her legs. They was crossed and sure was long for a lady. Her stockings was trussed up north of her knees with black garters. “Big Joe, be a dear and go down to the Red Front and get some cold Busch beer for these fine gentlemen.”

“Ma’am, do you mind if we get Lone Star beer?” Cicero asked. “I’m real partial to it.”

“Joe, make that Lone Star. Get a dozen.”

“Yes’m,” he said, departing.

Jasper hadn’t even noticed him appear behind them in the hallway.

Miss Jessie’s cheeks was red as her sofa. Maybe she was hot too. She cocked her head again and smiled at Cicero from behind her fan. “And what’s your name, handsome?”

“Cicero, ma’am. It’s just Cicero.”

“Well, Mr. Cicero, have a seat over there by Miss Sadie.” She pointed to the sofa across the room. It was humpbacked like a camel he’d seen in a book and had fancy wood carving on both humps.

The lady on the sofa, Miss Sadie, was dressed in a gown that hung real low. It was sort of like the one Momma wore around the house in summertime, but it looked different on Miss Sadie. She smiled back at Cicero from the right-hand hump. She had a sweet face—was probably not any older than him or Cicero—and light hair in a topknot with a ribbon. Her lips was real red, but they was beet-red, not prickly-pear red.

“Have a seat right here,” she said to Cicero, patting the cushion close beside her. She had a real soft way of talking, like a house cat purring.

“Good evening, Miss Sadie.” Cicero sat at the far end of the sofa under the left-hand hump. He sure enough looked like he’d just seen one of them eight wonders of the world.

Jasper plopped into a chair that near swallowed him. He straightened back up and scooted to the edge, ready for when it was time to leave. When he grabbed hold of his knees, he noticed his trousers was hiked way up and showed some holes in his socks. He pulled his pants legs down, but they was too short. The mirror was directly across the room—dang, if his face wasn’t beet-red too. He wiped it with his sleeve and swallowed hard. It sure was hot in there.

“And what’s your name, honey?” Miss Jessie asked him soft-like.

It took about a year for his words to form up and file on out of his mouth. “Jasper, ma’am. It’s just Jasper. I ain’t got no other name, just Jasper.”

“Is that right? How unusual.” She turned to the other lady. “Sadie, isn’t Mr. Jasper an unusually charming gentleman?”

“Yes, he sure is,” Miss Sadie said, smiling now at him instead of Cicero.

“You’ve got a nice house here, ma’am,” Cicero said. “Doesn’t she, Jasper?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Everybody looked at him. What else could he say? “It’s red.”

Dang, that was a fool thing to say, but that’s what hopped out when he opened his mouth.

Sudden-like, somebody come down the stairs and they all turned to look. A man crossed the hall arm-in-arm with a lady. They disappeared again just as quick toward the front door. She giggled, then squealed like a piglet. The door opened and slammed shut.

That new lady come into the parlor then and eased onto a low sofa kind of thing with curves and a hump back on one end only. She was younger than Miss Jessie, probably a little older than Miss Sadie, but still couldn’t be more than twenty. She had curly brown hair with a long curling strand dangling to one shoulder. Her gown hung across from her other shoulder. Momma never wore hers like that. This lady was like a Greek goddess he’d seen in books, and when she smiled—dang, she was pretty.

“Gentlemen, this is Miss Georgia,” Jessie said.

“Good evening, ma’am,” Cicero said, staring.

Jasper couldn’t get any words formed at all.

Miss Georgia looked from