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

laughed again—“’cause I don’t want to watch all that winking and blinking up close. But anyway, that’s what we call him.”

This had to be the same bald man that Jasper said winked at him. This was great progress.

Sadie came back and sat down next to Miss Peach. “So Winky-Blinky’s buying me a gown. Ain’t that something?”

Miss Peach couldn’t tell whether the look on Sadie’s face was delight or disgust, so she smiled anyway. “I believe him to be quite fond of you, miss. Let’s see, I think he said he’s in real estate, isn’t he?”

“Real estate? Not that I know of. He’s a drummer of some kind. Don’t know what he sells—never pays cash here anyway. Miss Jessie just writes him down in her book. But like I said, I didn’t encourage much talking.”

“A salesman? Maybe so. Shall we go to your room now?”

They went down a hallway to Miss Sadie’s bedroom. Thankfully, neither Miss Jessie nor anyone else were around.

Miss Peach kept up the small talk as she measured Sadie. “You’re a very nice person, Sadie, and I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Well, you know how I make my wages, don’t you?”

“One has to work, right? I’m sure it’s thrilling to do what you do.”

Sadie’s face showed it wasn’t. “You think I like this life?”

“If you don’t enjoy it, why do you do it?”

She laughed. “You ever hungry, lady?”

The only way she would gain Sadie’s confidence was by playing along. “Sometimes.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, I have a meal.” She stretched a cloth tape measure around Sadie’s waist.

“How you get food?”

“I buy it.”

“So you got money to buy food?”

She wrote down a measurement and then looked up at Sadie. “I see what you’re getting at. But why don’t you just do something else?”

Sadie laughed even louder. “Listen, when you get hungry, you work. You go to that fancy department store and sell dresses and such to other fine ladies.” She tossed her hand in the air. “You sell your clothes to whoever wants them. But for me, I sell the only thing I got people will pay money for.”

Miss Peach made a show of concern. But it was genuine. “Don’t you have family?”

“Not much of one,” Sadie said with a snicker.

“What do you mean?”

“My daddy died when I was young, and Momma married a goddamned good-for-nothing. He beat me, and he took me whenever he got tired of Momma. He had boys from some other damn woman, and they was mean and trashy, and they took me too.”

“Oh, my. How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.” She truly was. “What’d you do?”

“I just went along with it till I couldn’t no more, and then I run off one night.”

“I had no idea. How long have you been with Miss Jessie?”

“A year.”

She was startled by a knock at the door and a husky male voice. “Miss Sadie?”

“Come on in,” Sadie said.

The door opened just enough for Big Joe to lean in. “You got a gentleman waiting on you.” He eyed Miss Peach.

“Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yes’m.”

Joe didn’t leave. The door creaked as he pushed a little further into the room. He loomed over the women with his thick chest and powerful arms. He smelled bad. One eyelid drooped, but the other eye crept slowly up and down the length of Miss Peach.

“You a whore?”

“Oh no,” she stammered. “I’m from Sanger Brothers.”

“I thought you said Goldstein’s,” Sadie said.

“I just started at Goldstein-Migel. I’d been at Sanger’s before that.” She craned up to address Big Joe and managed a smile. “I’m fitting Miss Sadie for a gown.”

He grunted andleft.

Oh, my.

“Don’t mind him,” Sadie said. “Joe’s all right as long as you don’t cross him.”

“He seems nice enough.” She collected herself and glanced around the room. Though the whole sorry business was squalid, Sadie’s room was quite clean and not unpleasant. Some things weren’t that different from her own. Sadie had an ivory-handled mirror and brush on her table. “It seems like a very nice place to be.”

“Nice?” Sadie shrugged. “It pays. That’s all I care about.”

“I haven’t ever been inside a . . . boarding house before. To be honest with you,” she added sheepishly, “I wasn’t expecting something like this. It’s very elegant.”

Never mind the art, the red velvet upholstery, the perfume, and the brute.

“Better than most. No fleas, not many rats, no holes in the roof, and you don’t have to squat in a shit-stinking outhouse. I worked in worse.”

“Miss Jessie must be well-to-do.”

“Well, the owner is, anyway.”

Miss Peach’s foot began to tap. “She isn’t the owner?”

“Oh no, she’s just the madam.”

“Who’s the owner, then?” She hoped Sadie wouldn’t be scared off by more direct questions.

“Some rich gent owns it. I don’t ever see him, just hear her talk about him to Joe. She calls him the boss.” She straightened up her nightgown. “Anyway, you about done measuring on me? I got a paying customer.”

***

Catfish lit up a White Owl and propped his feet on the law office table, eager for their reports. “Miss Peach, what’d you find out?”

Her big brown eyes fluttered. “I’m a better stenographer than spy.”

She could even employ modesty deftly. Rose Greenhow couldn’t hold a candle to Miss Peach.

“Did they discover you?” Harley asked.

“No, no, nothing like that. But I’m not sure I learned anything important. Miss Jessie was out, and Big Joe made only a brief appearance. I met with Sadie. An unfortunate girl. She’s led a hard life. I don’t think she had anything to do with Georgia’s death, but she might know more than I was able to find out from her.”

Catfish blew a smoke ring at the ceiling fan and watched it disperse above him. “What’d you find out about the bald fella?”

“Sadie calls him Winky-Blinky, but his real name is Bill. She didn’t know his family name. They call him that because he winks and blinks his eyes all the time—you remember Jasper said the bald man winked?”

Catfish nodded. Wouldn’t be hard to find a winker.

“Sadie said he’s a drummer but didn’t