Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

photographs. I was afraid… for the first time in my life… I was afraid of the coming years. Not of growing old… but that she would fade in memory….” Lily’s voice was hoarse. “Who took this?”
    “A friend of mine. He’s a cop, but he does photography for fun on the side,” I said awkwardly.
    “I’d like to meet him. He captured her spirit, that flash in her eyes, her… joie de vivre as I never could.” Lily’s lips trembled slightly as she looked up at me, her eyes almost emerald with the intensity of 74

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    her emotion. “I’d like to thank him. I’d like to thank you for bringing this to me.”
    I felt like a heel. I’d charged in there like a mad bull, never thinking about how Lily might feel when she saw the photograph. I was just pissed that she’d lied to me. And here she was thanking me!
    “I have a few more,” I said. I remembered in time that I also had the crime scene photographs in there and glanced through the envelope, sorting out the shots before I showed them to her. I returned all the black-and-whites to the envelope, along with one shot that showed Marguerite with Jazz. I wondered if Reggie put that one in by accident as well as the other publicity still of Jazz at the piano.
    Lily smiled tremulously when she took the remaining photos from me. She showed me one with Marguerite singing into a microphone, her eyes starry and focused dreamily in the distance. She looked like she was in love, but it could have been part of the act. I hadn’t realized what a good photographer Reggie was; it could have passed for a Hollywood still with the way the shadows and light revealed her face.
    Lily said, “He caught her love of music in that one. She loved to sing, and she could get lost in a song. She had such a bright future. I always meant to get some color shots of her, but you know how time slips away.”
    “Yeah, Lily, and time is passing right now. I’m sorry to press you, but I need to know the whole story if I’m going to get anywhere.
    Why didn’t you tell me she was your daughter?” Two taps sounded at the door, and Celestine, the maid, appeared again. She frowned at me ferociously when she saw me kneeling at Lily’s side but only said, “Madame, the car is here.” Lily looked at her blankly for a moment and then said, “I can’t possibly go out tonight. Tell the driver—no, I’ll write a note.” She put the photos down with a lingering glance and then got up, walking to a dainty little secretary tucked into the bay window. She scribbled a note and said, “Please give that to the driver to take to—my friend. He’ll understand. And then make us some coffee, Celestine. Thank you.” Celestine took the note and gripped Lily’s hand, searching her eyes. Then she gave a little nod and walked out of the room.

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    75

    “Let’s go downstairs, Grey, darling.”
    I felt like a murderer when she gathered up the photographs and took my arm, like I had killed all of her joie de vivre and left only a lifeless husk. But I underestimated her. Made of steel, that lady.
    “Let’s go to the morning room, it’s smaller than the dining room.
    More intimate.” Lily led the way and sat down at a small round table, spreading the photographs out so she could drink them in. “I’ll tell you everything.”
    “Start at the beginning,” I suggested.
    “I came to Las Vegas when I was seventeen,” Lily said. “I’d always wanted to be a dancer, and I had flair . Anyone can learn the steps, but you have to be born with flair, and I always had that. I attracted attention from the right people immediately.” I could see that. “Especially with that red hair.”
    “ And my face and figure,” Lily said, sounding somewhat more like her usual self. “I was an overnight sensation , if I do say so.” A swinging door opened, and I could see past Celestine into the kitchen. She put a tray onto the table and unloaded a silver coffeepot, creamer and sugar, spoons, and three mugs. Also a little plate of cookies. She poured three cups, setting one in front of Lily and handing one to me. She took the third and sat down, somewhat to my surprise, but Lily pushed the photographs over to her.
    Celestine gave me a sharp look and picked them up, studying them one by one. “Elle est trés belle . ” Lily nodded. “She was.” She sighed and continued. “Everyone admired me, and I acquired a number of very attentive