“I think Maggie figured she owed Chicago. She and her mother could never see eye to eye, and Maggie never forgave Bessie Palmer for hating her.” I tilt my head and sigh. “I mean, Miss Honoree. I can’t think of her as Bessie, but Maggie couldn’t see her as anyone other than Bessie.”
Lula takes a bite of her toast and washes it down with a swig of water. “I can’t call her anything else but Miss Honoree, too. Did she tell you why she did it? Pretended to be Honoree Dalcour.”
“It wasn’t as calculated as I thought. Most of what Bessie did, however, was calculated, but not with Honoree. She loved her and missed her, and ultimately wanted to be her.”
Lula nods. “I get it.” She takes a sip of coffee. “Oh. Deidre had some updates. Remember Jeremiah Bailey was questioned about the shooting at Miss Hattie’s?”
“Archie Graves. We found that in theDefender.”
“An article in another newspaper in January 1926 reported Dewey Graves’s body washed up on the banks of the Chicago River.”
I shake my head and smile. “Bessie and Honoree ran with a wild crowd.”
“TheCrisisarticle also said one of Capone’s henchmen—” Lula pauses. “You like that word, right?”
I laugh out loud. “It works.”
“Anyway, a Tony Gallo was also questioned concerning Dewey’s murder. A year later, the same Tony Gallo was shot and killed on January 17, 1927.” Her grin is outrageously broad, which makes me smile, too. “Do you recognize the date?” Her eyes widen. “Come on. Guess.”
I am grinning, tickled by her enthusiasm. “Capone’s birthday.”
“One of his own gunned him down.”
“I wonder if he knew what happened to Honoree and Ezekiel.”
“Ezekiel remains a mystery,” Lula says, wiping her mouth. “Still no death certificate. Nothing in the US or Europe that we can find. Deidre says he probably traveled to Baton Rouge after the shootout, but he was messed up. He moved in with Jeremiah and Bessie for a year or two. Then he disappeared.”
“Miss Honoree, I mean Bessie—she never answered the question of what happened to Ezekiel, did she?”
“I don’t believe she knew, or if she did, I don’t believe she cared. He likely left Baton Rouge around the time his brother died and never returned. By then, everyone she cared about was in Baton Rouge.”
“Until Maggie left her.”
Lula props her elbows on the table, her hands closed into a fist beneath her chin. “What if Ezekiel is alive and living in a beach house in Jamaica?” Lula laughs. “Stranger things have happened.”
“He’s dead, Lula. Trust me. Otherwise, he’d be pushing one hundred and fifteen.” I pause.
A gleam brightens her eyes. We are in that giddy place where we can’t help but smile at each other. “The Santa Monica Film Festival is in April. I’d love it if you could join me for the premiere.”
“I’ll be there.”
She answers so quickly I choke and clear my throat to avoid losing all my cool points. “You’ll come to Santa Monica?”
Lula smiles that big, beautiful smile. “What did I just say, Sawyer?”
My smile feels uncomfortable on my face, but I trust Lula’s words. Hers is a promise I can count on. “I’m excited. It will be fantastic having you there. Miss Honoree will love that.”
Lula blushes, and her smooth black skin glows. “You’re right. She will be there.”
“Stop with all the smiling,” she playfully complains. “You can’t charm me with that cute grin of yours. You’ll get yourself in trouble.”
“I could say the same about you.” I lift her hand from the table and cradle it in my palm. “Have I ever told you how much I enjoy talking with you?”
“Let’s save that conversation for after you’ve spent some time back in California.” She releases my hand and takes a sip of her coffee. I close one eye. “Should I worry?”
She sighs. “No, Sawyer. Nothing to worry about.”
“I have something to show you.” I pull out my tablet and show her the footage of three chorus girls dancing in a nightclub in 1925 Chicago. “The restorers cleaned up another section of the reel. See, that girl—Honoree Dalcour, the original. Now, that one—” I point at the round-faced girl at the end of the chorus line. “See the scar on her arm. That’s—”
