“Why you so mad at me? Ain’t nothing between Ezekiel and me but business matters.”
Honoree had to bite her tongue to stop from cursing Trudy into next week. “What the hell are you talking about? Have you forgotten about the envelope and Houdini? You put me in the middle of a mess that changed my life. Hell. Now you waltz in here and act as if nothing happened.”
Trudy ventured into the parlor, seemingly having lost the ability to hear Honoree. “If I owned a house like this, you would never be left here alone. Especially the way things are these days. Between the white man’s rules, and colored people wasting their pennies on policy gambling and getting scammed by their own race—it’s a hard life for those of us with ambition.”
Honoree stood between the hall and the archway. Not taken in by Trudy’s little speech, she blocked her path. “Spit out what you came to say. I’ll give the message to Ezekiel.”
The expression on Trudy’s face hardened. “I guess I can trust you since you care about him.” She slapped her lambskin gloves into the palm of her hand. “Tell him that Archie is looking for him. For some reason, he’s decided Ezekiel killed Dewey.”
“Ezekiel didn’t do anything to Dewey,” Bessie said.
“Shut up, girl,” Honoree spat. “Someone had to tell Archie that lie. Was it you, Trudy?”
“Stop being a fool. Why lie on Ezekiel? Gallo is the one that put this mess in Archie’s head. He’s the one who wants Ezekiel dead.”
“Gallo is lying.”
“And when did a white man choose not to lie on a colored man when he wants something from him?”
“How’d you find out about this?” Honoree asked Trudy.
“I was in the room when Gallo was bragging to his friends about it.”
“Oh, and he didn’t bother to keep this bit of business from you?”
“Gallo don’t consider colored girls anything more than a romp in the hay. We don’t think. We can’t hear and can’t hurt him. So, sure, he’d say most anything in front of me.”
Honoree rubbed her palms together. The truth of Trudy’s words were proven the other night when Honoree had foolishly gone to the Plantation Cafe. “Would you like a cup of java? Why don’t you join me in the parlor, Trudy.”
The blonde stiffened, suspicion printed across her face. “I wouldn’t mind a cup.”
Honoree nodded at Bessie. “Can you bring us a couple of cups of coffee?” she said, as if she were the lady of the house.
Honoree led Trudy into the parlor and slipped off her mink. They sat on the Danish chairs with the mahogany frames and soft cotton cushions.
Trudy kept a wary eye on Honoree until Bessie returned with the coffee and Dole pineapple slices, fresh from the can. Trudy cracked a smile. “What’s with the hospitality?”
“I’m gonna come clean with you. Gallo killed Houdini, and I saw him do it, and if I can’t get out from under Gallo’s thumb, he’ll either kill me or take away my freedom, turn me into someone—who can only do his bidding.”
Trudy sipped her coffee. “When I saw you at the Plantation Cafe, I figured he had a beef with you. So that means he has Ezekiel in his sights, too.”
“Thank you for helping Bessie that night. It would’ve been bad news for us without you stepping in.”
Trudy forked a pineapple slice and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Not wanting to be tapped for Houdini’s murder is why Gallo put Archie on Ezekiel.” She smacked her lips. “Go on.”
“Right,” Honoree said with a sigh. “What can we do to stop Archie from gunning down Ezekiel? Is there a way to stop Gallo?”
Trudy’s hand trembled and coffee splashed on her muslin dress. “Best bet would be for Ezekiel to leave town, but he won’t do that until he’s ready.”
Honoree leaned forward. “What if we could get Gallo and Archie in trouble with Hymie Weiss?”
Trudy puckered her lips. “Sure, we’ll just tell him to do whatever we have in mind for him to do.” The sarcasm in her tone filled the parlor.
“I’m not talking for the sake of running my mouth. Wait a moment.” Honoree hurried upstairs and retrieved the envelope from the heart-shaped sewing basket. She returned to the den and handed the envelope to Trudy. “It’s the same package you gave me the night Houdini died.”
Trudy’s hand closed around it. “You had it all this time.”
“What if you give the envelope to Hymie Weiss? Or Capone himself? Gallo killed to get his hands on those betting slips. They must be important—and we know a white man in the policy gambling racket in Bronzeville isn’t allowed.”
