Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

something, but what?
    Not that I was going to confront Phil Martin with this information any time soon. No, I had a better idea of who to put the squeeze on next.
    “Got today’s paper handy?”
    She heaved a big sigh but went to grab it and held it under my nose. The murder was still getting a big play in the papers, even though there was nothing new to report. So the newshounds were making it up, implying that the cops were trying to hush it up because the killer was someone too rich ever to be arrested.
    Captain Woods was quoted as saying, “The Las Vegas Police Force takes pride in keeping the crime rate low. Since I’ve been placed in charge, the number of violent assaults has dropped precipitously.
    Soon criminals will realize there is no way their dastardly crimes will not receive just retribution. Las Vegas is a clean town, a safe town.
    There is no way that the citizens of Las Vegas will not see an arrest of the man who committed this crime. We have him in our sights, and as soon as we gather sufficient evidence, the details will become public knowledge.”
    Blowhard. He should run for office. I tossed the paper down.
    “Thanks, Charlie. See you.”
    “Wait! When are we going out dancing?”

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    101

    “Business before pleasure. I have a case to solve first.” BACK to Miss Lily McIntyre. The previous night I’d been too sore and it had been too dark for me to take much notice of her house. She lived in a ritzy area, Huntsridge, right on the turnaround on Maryland Parkway, AKA Showgirl Row.
    Maybe it was due to the kinds of productions they danced in, but most of the showgirls owned ostentatious monstrosities that looked like frosted wedding cakes. Lily’s was different. It looked kind of French to me, with a slate mansard roof, built of pale sandstone with quoins at the corners and little terraces with wrought iron railings at intervals around the second story.
    I could see the tire marks I’d left on the circular drive in front of her house where I’d skidded to a stop the night before. I walked up the shallow set of stairs, flanked by low stone pillars all covered with red roses twining over the balusters.
    I hadn’t called ahead. Somehow I needed to surprise the truth out of her. And if that didn’t work, at least pry the keys to her daughter’s apartment out of her so I could search it for clues.
    When the door opened in answer to my ring, I said, “Good morning, Celestine. May I see Miss McIntyre?” Celestine gave me a gimlet eye. I had a feeling I wasn’t on her good list after last night. “I shall inquire, m’sieur.” She planned on me waiting in the foyer like I had the night before, but I followed her silently. Gum shoes, you know. Dress code in the private dick manual. She led the way through the living room, where I could see a smaller alcove with shelves to the ceiling solid with books and one of those brass library ladders. I’d always wanted to try one of those.
    Celestine continued on into the morning room, where we’d had coffee the night before. In the daytime, I could see why Lily liked the room. It was painted a warm yellow, which set off her coloring to perfection and caught the morning sun. The round table was cherry and 102

    CATT FORD

    sitting there, you could look out onto her garden, which was also filled with red roses.
    “Grey, darling!” Lily said, as if I’d just dropped by for a social visit.
    Celestine turned and gave me a dirty look for sneaking in behind her.
    “Bring another cup, Celestine. You’ll join me for coffee, of course?” Lily gave me a warm smile and waved her hand to another chair. She was wearing a black street dress with a red rose tucked into the belt as if even in mourning, her vibrant personality demanded some outlet.
    “Thank you. The coffee smells great.” I sat down prepared to nail her, but she forestalled me.
    “You’ve come to ask me who Marguerite’s father was, I expect.”
    “I think I know that. Mr. X. Max Hamilton.” For a second, Lily looked surprised, but then she laughed. “Well, you are cleverer than you look, Mr. Dick.”
    “So, you’re not denying it?”
    “You succeeded in making Phil Martin talk then?” She leaned forward. “Did you shine a light in his eyes?”
    “I’m afraid some of the methods we dicks use must remain a secret, but I milked him dry,” I said with what dignity I could muster.
    “I asked him why he hired your