“The only problem,” Bessie began, “is he kicked me out—but with Miss Dolly having me clean up the cafe every day, I have to be here early, so I just don’t leave.”
Suddenly Bessie gasped in delight. A hand covered her mouth, while the other one grabbed Honoree. “Look! Look at Trudy! Is she wearing a mink coat? And that dress. A mighty fine dress. And so short—I can see her knees.”
Honoree glanced and promptly glanced away, not wanting to catch Trudy’s eye. But there she was all right, flopping into the cafe in a beaver coat, not mink, and a department-store dress.
“I don’t give a never mind about her,” she said, removing Bessie’s hand from her arm. “You spent the night at Miss Hattie’s without getting caught?”
Bessie faced her. “All night long. In the basement, but nobody saw me sneak in.” She smiled at Trudy. “Her dress is almost as pretty as yours.”
“It must be later than I thought,” Honoree said abruptly. “We should get going.” She gulped down the rest of her drink.
Bessie pouted. “We still got a little time before the show.”
“I said, let’s go, Bessie, or stay. I don’t care. I’m leaving.”
* * *
Honoree didn’t leave right away. Trudy had marched into the storage room behind the bar, the only entrance to the stairwell leading to the basement dressing room, and Honoree didn’t want to run into her. Not just yet.
Ezekiel may have done as he’d promised and set Trudy straight about the envelope, but Honoree didn’t want to learn otherwise in a back room filled with bottles, glasses, and plates.
“Why are we waiting?” Bessie asked. “I thought you were in a hurry.”
“I’m thinking.” Honoree was stalling. Then after a few minutes, when it was safe, she headed downstairs with Bessie on her heels.
They reached the dressing room, but Honoree stopped Bessie from opening the door.
“Why aren’t we going inside?”
“I’m eavesdropping.” Honoree could swear Miss Dolly had mentioned Houdini’s name. “Miss Dolly is yapping about the Dreamland Cafe, talking like she was there and watched him die.”
“Watched who die?”
“Hush. It doesn’t matter.” Honoree shoved the door open. “Evening, ladies.”
“Look at you in your fancy dress.” Edna Mae scooted around on her crate, eyeballing Honoree from head to toe. “If that slit were any higher, you’d have to shave your bush.”
“Why are you so rude?” Bessie circled by Honoree, hopping down the steps.
“Hush your mouths,” Miss Dolly said. “And don’t interrupt me again. I’m telling the story about that killing Saturday morning.” She took a drag from her cigarette. “As I was saying, the barkeep was shot in the face. And it took him an hour to die.”
“How do you know how long it took?” Trudy stood in the doorway, lighting a cigarette. Where had she been?
Miss Dolly gave Trudy the side-eye. “If another one of y’all interrupts me again, I swear to God.”
“Tell me, how long did it take for him to die? Were you there?” Trudy stomped down the steps, her eyes blazing, or were they merely red-rimmed? Had she been crying?
Trudy stopped a foot away from Miss Dolly with her lips trembling. “A man shot like him doesn’t take an hour to die. They don’t lay there cockeyed like in a cinema. Their body flails like a fish with a hook in its mouth.”
Trudy was right, Honoree thought. That was the kind of jerking and shaking she saw her father do when he was struck by the automobile. He twisted and turned, fighting against death until his life seeped into the dirt like warm honey. But it surely didn’t take an hour for him to die.
“The newspaper said there were not any witnesses,” Edna Mae said.
“I don’t care about no newspaper. Word on the street is enough for me,” Miss Dolly said, smearing on eyeliner. “People lie to cops and reporters all the time.”
Virginia wiggled her fingers, causing heads to turn her way. “I hearsay Mr. Buttons didn’t leave the cafe until after four o’clock. He might’ve seen who shot the barkeep.”
“What I heard, too,” Miss Dolly continued. “Mr. Buttons was there late enough to hear the gunfire.”
