Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

“Sorry, that got in there by mistake.”
    I wanted to chuckle, but I sensed his feelings were a little too raw.
    And I didn’t much fancy another tap on the nose.
    The next shot made me gasp. I’d seen that one black-and-white shot of Miss Saint-Ville more than once, which was enough to tell me that she was a very pretty girl, but seeing her in color turned the whole case upside-down for me.
    I could have been looking at a shot of Miss Lily McIntyre, taken eighteen years ago!
    The same peaches-and-cream complexion, the same coppery red hair, the same flashing green eyes, the same delicate features…. They could have been twins! Except for Lily being old enough to be her mother—
    “Holy fuck,” I breathed. “Thanks, Reggie. I gotta go.” I stuffed the shots back into the envelope and stood up.
    “You haven’t even looked at all of them,” he said.
    “I’ve seen enough,” I growled. Not telling me everything? That would be Lily. Fascinating, aggravating, tantalizing Lily.
    “What about Jazz? Can I tell him he’s off the hook for this?” Reggie called after me.
    “No!” I stomped out and got in my car.

    72

    CATT FORD

    IT’S A good thing Reggie didn’t follow me over to Lily’s house, or he could have made his quota for the night and tagged me for speeding. I raced up the circular drive in front of a house that I could only call a mansion and screeched to a stop.
    A maid answered the door after I pounded on it, dressed in one of those black maid outfits with the frilly white apron, and looked at me disapprovingly. She was smart and French, with a short gamine hairstyle and an intriguingly ugly face.
    “Miss McIntyre in?”
    In a pronounced French accent, she said, “I shall inquire, m’sieur.
    Who shall I say eez calling?”
    “Grey Randall, private dick, and make it snappy, will ya?” I snarled. Looking back, I’m surprised she let me in at all, but she left me standing in the front hall while she went to inquire.
    “Madame vill see you,” she announced when she came back.
    I followed her up a staircase that curved gracefully to the second floor, too mad to take in the surroundings. The maid tapped twice on a closed door and opened it without waiting for an answer.
    “Grey Randall, private deeck,” she said. And that’s pretty much the last time I’m going to try to capture the way she talked. From here on out, you can imagine it for yourself.
    Lily was admiring herself in a long mirror, turning this way and that to view herself from every angle. She was dressed to go out, wearing a black evening dress that plunged as far down in the front as it did in the back. One red rose was tucked into her satin belt. She was shiny with diamonds when she moved. I never would have thought one woman could shovel so much ice onto herself and carry it off, but Lily did.
    “Thank you, Celestine,” Lily said. She turned to greet me with a smile that faded as soon she caught the steam pouring out of my ears.
    “Grey, darling, whatever’s happened to upset you?” Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    73

    I stalked toward her, tossing my hat onto her satin-covered bed.
    Big enough for four, by the way.
    “Which was it? Cousin? Niece? Or daughter? ” I held out one of the photographs Reggie had taken so she could see it, one where he’d caught her in a moment of genuine laughter.
    Lily went white to the lips, which were painted a luscious shade of coral red. She snatched the photograph from me and stared at it hungrily, her eyes revealing the agony, deep and profound, like someone had torn off a piece of her soul, leaving a bleeding hole that could never be filled. “Daughter.”
    “Why the con? Why didn’t you just tell me?” She looked up at me with dry eyes. I felt like I was caught spying on a grief too deep for tears.
    “Where did you get this photograph?” Lily asked in a breathless voice. She swayed, and I was afraid she might faint, but she was made of stronger stuff than that. “I have only black-and-white photographs of her.” She closed her eyes and raised her face. I could see the muscles of her neck working.
    I went to her and put a hand on her elbow, leading her to a chair.
    “I’m sorry, Lily.”
    “Thank you.”
    I knelt beside her, afraid to let go of her as she looked at the photograph as if she were memorizing it.
    “Since she died, I couldn’t remember… it was as if all my memories of her had become black and white… like the