“That barkeep was a big man,” Virginia said. “Probably took a couple of men to kill him.”
“I wish to heaven y’all would shut the hell up.” Trudy’s voice crackled with rage.
“What’s wrong with you?” Edna Mae said. “There’s no need to yell at us.”
“Y’all are like a pack of hungry bobcats chasing a squirrel, talking any ol’ way about a dead man. Let him rest in peace.”
Miss Dolly flicked two fingers at Trudy. “A man got gunned down at a nightclub, and we work at a nightclub. It seems worth our time to chat about it. Maybe we can help stop trouble from coming here.”
Trudy glared at Miss Dolly with an expression of total disbelief. “You don’t give a damn about the barkeep or trouble at Miss Hattie’s. You just enjoy flapping your gums about somebody else’s misery.”
Trudy lit a cigarette, her trembles gone. “Did any of you ever meet George ‘Houdini’ Mills? That was his name, you know. Did you ever dance with him on a Sunday at the Dusty Bottom? Did he ever cook you a pot of his mother’s recipe for chicken stew? He was a man, a kind man, a good man who treated people like human beings and knew what it meant to be a friend.”
The room was dead quiet. Honoree had never heard Trudy speak so earnestly about anything or anybody.
“I am so sorry,” Virginia said, sympathy in every syllable. “We didn’t know you knew him.”
“He was a brother to me,” Trudy said hoarsely.
Miss Dolly snorted. “I thought you only liked white men with names like Hymie. Never knew a fat Negro boy to turn away from trouble.”
There was a flurry of movement, but luckily, Edna Mae was close enough to grab Trudy before she reached Miss Dolly. “How dare you! You have no right to say things like that. No right!”
Trudy squirmed out of Edna Mae’s grasp. “Leave me be. I ain’t gonna hurt her. Not right now.” She opened her hands and shook them, releasing her rage into the air. “Got bigger chickens to fry than to get into a bitch brawl with a has-been who never was.”
“Who you talking about?” Miss Dolly leaped to her feet, her chair tumbling to the floor behind her. “I will slap you into next Monday.”
Trudy stood still with a hand of defiance fisted on her hip. “Miss Dolly ain’t nobody to be afraid of. She’s just another one of Archie’s castoffs. He found someone new to run his cafe.”
A spattering of voices droningLord have mercyswept the room. Even Honoree moved her crate a few inches, out of harm’s way, expecting a scratching, hair-pulling fight to commence.
But nothing happened. Trudy’s words of truth about Archie, which Honoree suspected referred to Ezekiel, had taken the fire out of Miss Dolly. She righted her chair and sat, and, without speaking, began polishing her makeup for the show.
Trudy had not moved. She just stood there, chest heaving for a long moment, until she turned and headed toward Honoree.
“What is it?” Honoree asked.
Trudy stood over her, doing nothing except lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke.
“What do you want?” Honoree repeated.
“Why’d you do it?” Trudy whispered.
“Why’d I do what?”
“Don’t lie to me.” Trudy crouched down on one knee next to her so that nobody could overhear. “Why didn’t you give Houdini the envelope?”
“I did give him the envelope.”
“No, you didn’t. He got shot because he didn’t have what he was supposed to have.”
“You asked me to deliver it, and I did as you asked.”
Trudy dug a fingernail into Honoree’s thigh. “You’re a liar.”
“And if you don’t get your hands off me—”
“Stop jawing, you two.” Miss Dolly had gotten up from her seat. “It’s showtime.”
