The Double Vice: The 1st Hidden Gotham Novel by Chris Holcombe (ebook reader for laptop .TXT) 📗

“She can’t be any more dangerous than Walter Müller.”

“Oh yes, she can!” El opened her eyes and looked hard at Dash. “Listen now. You didn’t grow up in the streets and in the alleys of this city. You were in palaces with doormen and the police at your beck and call. This world, the world she lives in? You don’t know anything about it. And you can get yourself killed without realizing you caused offense to the one killing you.”

Dash stood up and started pacing around the small, cramped office. “I don’t have any options, El. I’m trying not to get innocent people hurt by Walter, but he is insistent on finding this female impersonator. And he is damn serious about putting me, Joe, Finn, and Atty in prison. If this Zora Mae can point me in the right direction or, hell, give me a clue as to who could’ve killed his brother, then I have to speak with her.”

“I understand you’re feeling panicked, Dash. Even desperate. I certainly would feel the same in your shoes.” El leaned forward in the chair, her elbows resting on her thighs, her eyes pleading. “But you have to understand, you will be messing with some dangerous people. People with hardened hearts. People without a soul. You will not be safe with a woman like Zora Mae.”

“If Walter puts me in prison, how safe will I be?”

El narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t the only reason you’re doing this, is it?”

Dash was startled by the question. He stopped pacing. “What do you mean?”

El sat up, leaning back in Leslie’s office chair. “I mean, you’re up to something. Why else would you intentionally go to a place you have no business going?”

“I . . .” Dash’s voice faltered. He kept seeing the shy smile on Karl’s face, the gentle way he clasped his hands together, the slight hesitation before giving Dash the quick peck on his cheek.

I tried to help him.

El saw the look on his face. “Oh hell.”

Just then, the office door swung open and there stood Leslie Charles. It took a moment for the sapphire-eyed man to register Dash’s appearance. When he did, he said, “Oh no. No, no, hell, no. What is this ofay doing in my office?”

“Les!” El replied. “Watch your mouth.”

“I don’t have to watch anything. This is my office in my club. And that ofay is causing me nothing but trouble. Your friend? The one who’s supposed to help me out?”

“Les—”

“He done skipped out on me.”

“Les—”

“And nobody skips out on a deal with Leslie Charles. Uh uh. He owes me two days of labor. When you see that little sauerkraut, you tell him—”

“Les!”

“What!”

The little man turned to El.

El said, “The little sauerkraut is dead.”

Leslie stared at El. “Say again?”

“Somebody killed him.”

Leslie turned and looked straight on at Dash. “Get out.” His voice was low and guttural. “Get out now.”

El tried to intervene “Les—”

Leslie held up a hand and, for once, silenced El. He pointed at Dash. “You’re not bringing cops to my club over some dumb white kid. You got me? Now get out.”

Dash slowly stood up. “I’m leaving. And don’t worry, the cops don’t know he was up here.”

“They better not. You hear? They better. Not.”

Dash made his way towards the door. El dropped her head, her eyes not meeting Dash’s. He didn’t blame either of them for their reactions. He hadn’t meant to cause them trouble, but good intentions didn’t change the outcome.

When Dash got to the doorway, he said, “Thank you both for trying to help. And I—”

“Don’t apologize. Just get out.”

Dash looked from Leslie to El and back again. He took a deep breath and left the office.

Out on the street, he said goodbye to Horace. The irate man in line, the one who started the chant “Why can’t ofay wait?” said, “Hope you had a good time!”

Dash ignored him and stood on the curb, waiting for a cab, wondering what in the world he was going to do. He had just successfully hailed a taxi when he heard a rustling sound behind him. He turned and saw El. A few people in the line noticed her and started cheering and calling out her name.

She pushed a piece of paper into his hand. He took it out and read the hastily scribbled note: Hot Cha, near Seventh and 134th, ask for Clarence, then say you’re here to walk his dog and you’re the dog walker.

Dash looked up at El.

She replied to his questioning gaze, “That’s where you’ll find Zora Mae. She’s there almost every night.”

Dash tried to stammer a thank you when she waved him off.

“Knock it off with that. I’m doing this favor for you because I like you. I hate it and I’ll deny it to my dying day, but I like you. But you can’t futz this up, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t fucking ma’am me.” The words were harsh, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

Dash nodded. “Thank you, El.” He looked down at the note again. “I sincerely appreciate this.”

“Don’t thank me yet. First off, you can’t just go there by yourself. They don’t like solo downtowners. They look like cops.”

“Will you go with me?”

“Hell, no! I am way too conspicuous. And this place ain’t for B.D. women like myself. You need someone more refined, like fine china. See, I’m the bull in the china shop, but—”

“—I need a china cup?”

El put her hands on her hips and gave him a baleful look. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Finish my sentences like we some kind of boring married couple.”

Dash forced a smile. “I’d make a good wife.”

“Uh huh, and I’d make a lousy husband.”

Dash chuckled a little. “So who’s my china cup?”

“Flo Russell. She’s a dancer at Connie’s Inn. I’ve known her for years. She’ll do right by you. Of course, I’ve got to convince her first.”

“Didn’t you say you always get what you want?”

“From men! They’re too easy to convince.” She blew out a breath. “But women? That’s a