Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

She had a bright future ahead of her.” Suddenly I understood the all-black get-up. I would eat my hat if I didn’t find out there was a closer acquaintance between the two than just teacher and student. But Miss McIntyre didn’t betray any sign of grief. Not that she would show any emotion she chose not to. Those soft furs and silky glad rags covered a lady made of steel.
    “When was she killed?”
    “Two nights ago.” Miss McIntyre leaned forward and gazed at me intently. “She was found in an alley, in the warehouse section behind Union Station.”
    I got the sense of some powerful emotion being held firmly in check. “What was she doing there?”
    “I was hoping you’d find that out, Mr. Randall,” she said somewhat tartly. “So far no one has been able to tell me a thing.”
    “How was she killed?”
    “Strangled.”
    I looked up from my notes. “Personal.”
    Miss McIntyre shrugged, but her gaze was intent upon me. “I’m not sure what other motive there could be. She wasn’t rich.”
    “When was she found?”

    8

    CATT FORD

    “After two a.m.”
    “Were any of her belongings stolen?”
    “Her purse was there, although the money was gone. Can’t you find all this out from the newspapers?”
    “I will, Miss Lily. I just want to get your take.”
    “I wasn’t there. I know nothing about what she was doing or why.” Miss McIntyre uncrossed her legs, giving me a little flash of the top of her stocking. She was still watching me carefully, although I had no idea what she was hoping to see. “You’re going to find all that out for me.”
    “What if I find out something you don’t want to know?” She gave me a determined smile. All steel, that lady, although she wanted you to think otherwise. “Truth can be a harsh mistress.”
    “All right. Why was she killed?”
    “Isn’t that supposed to be your job?”
    “Never overlook the basics. I’d feel like a damned fool if I didn’t ask and I found out later you knew all along. And I’ll need a photograph,” I said.
    She opened her handbag and flashed me a photo. “Autographed?” I coughed. “Er, not of you, ma’am, of Miss Saint-Ville.
    Although….” I caught sight of the picture she was offering. “If you don’t mind, make it out to Grey Randall.” Hell, I’m not gonna pass up a photograph of a beautiful woman wearing only pearls and a G-string, although most of the good stuff was left to the imagination between the lighting and the pose. My mother didn’t raise any stupid children. I was smart enough to play along when a dame showed a yen to flirt. No sense raising questions I didn’t want to answer. Besides, having her autographed photo on my desk could only help when future clients came to call.
    She smirked as she signed it, obviously thinking she had me back on a leash. But nobody puts Grey Randall, private dick, on a leash. I may let them think so, but only till I get what I’m after.

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    9

    She slid it across the desk with a smug look as I took a glance before putting it in the top drawer to file later. “I was a dish, wasn’t I?”
    “Was? You still are. And now the photograph of Miss Saint-Ville, please.”
    After fixing me with a gaze that bored right through me, Miss McIntyre seemed to make up her mind about me. She opened her bag again and took out another photograph.
    It was a black-and-white publicity still, the kind used by actresses, singers, and dancers, shot with professional lighting. Still, the girl had been lovely, beautiful, even. Which in itself could constitute a motive.
    “Boyfriend?”
    “Yes. More than one, I suspect.”
    “Don’t you know?”
    “She spoke of seeing more than one man. She never mentioned any names.” Miss McIntyre made a graceful gesture with her hand.
    “You understand, in the entertainment business, one meets a number of… admirers, shall we say?”
    “And maybe one of them got a little out of hand?”
    “Perhaps.” Miss McIntyre didn’t seem too shocked by the idea.
    “Was she a hooker?”
    “No, Mr. Randall, she was not!” she snapped.
    “Not even amateur? Look, Miss Lily, entertainment is a tough business to break into. Sometimes girls have to do things to make ends meet—”
    “She was a lovely girl. Not in my league as a dancer, of course,” she added modestly, “but these days what passes for talent would barely have landed you onto a casting couch back then. Not that I’m past it. I