Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

that last night. She followed me in here and put her arms around my neck—I tried to get her off me gently. If I left a bruise on a white woman—” He shuddered, and I guess his back was light compared to what the punishment for that might be. “She ran out of here crying. And then the next day I heard she was dead. I didn’t find out until later just how she died.”
    Sounded like her daughter did take after Lily. That joie de vivre she’d mentioned… Lily had that too, even with the death of her daughter hanging over her. “When the cops pulled you in, did they ask you anything about her?”
    “Just did I have a taste for white meat, but I thought they were talking about—”
    In my line of work, you listen to a lot of lies, so you get to know the ring of truth when you hear it. Jazz was spilling his guts, and there was only one thing he kept dancing around. In a way, I had to admire him. He had to think that Reggie was in on what happened to him at the police station in some way, but he still wasn’t going to go canary on him being queer.
    It made me feel a little sad that I might never have someone that felt that way about me. And considering how I’d ridden roughshod over Reggie’s feelings earlier, I felt a little urge to play cupid for them.
    “Reggie thinks you fell in love with her. He didn’t know about what Big Billy was doing to you. He’s not in on the frame.” Jazz looked up at me quickly. The expression of hope on his face almost made me want to go and slip on a pair of wings. I hated to spike his uplift, but I still had questions.

    150

    CATT FORD

    “What time did you have this conversation with Marguerite that night?”
    “On my last break, about one a.m.”
    “So she tore out of here, crying, and you went after her—”
    “I didn’t go after her. What would I have said?”
    “That she made you want to be a real man?” I had to chuckle, but I did it on the inside where he couldn’t see. What dame didn’t want to hear that, and what worse thing could you say if you were a queer man?
    “I thought it was better to just let it drop,” Jazz said, a little defensive. “I knew she’d get over it.”
    I didn’t blame him. No man wants to face a dame’s tears, and that goes double if you’re not even taking them to bed. Clearly he didn’t know much about broads, though, if he thought letting it drop would make anything blow over.
    “So you went for a walk—”
    “I went back onstage and played until two-thirty a.m.!” Jazz exploded. “You can ask anyone, the bartender, any of the customers—”
    “Who are all going to put their hand on the Bible in court and say,
    ‘Yeah, I swear I saw the colored guy playing at this queer club where I usually hang out’,” I jibed.
    “Fuck!” Jazz turned and made a fist, and for a minute I thought he was going to punch the wall. But he thought better of it, reminding me of Artie saying he was careful of his hands, and just twisted them together instead. “I’m screwed.”
    “Let’s hope this doesn’t ever get to court,” I said.
    “Who the hell are you?”
    “Didn’t I introduce myself earlier? Sorry. Grey Randall, private dick.” I stuck out my hand, and he stared at it like no white man had ever offered to shake before.
    His hand was bigger than mine, and when he stood up, I could see he had at least six inches on me. In height , dammit! Not a man I really wanted to tangle with if I got on his bad side.

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    151

    “Reggie and I were in the service together.” At his questioning look, I was tempted to shake my head to reassure him, but he was a suspect that I had cornered, not a friend.
    “I was in the service too.” He released my hand, and I could see the anger flooding back into his face, taking the place of the sadness.
    “So, Mr. Private Dick, you come barging in here, asking all these questions. Why?”
    “I’m investigating Miss Marguerite Saint-Ville’s murder. When I found out the necklace was yours—”
    “Instant suspect.” He stared at me suspiciously.
    “Yeah, go figure,” I said. “Maybe you’d better find a place to hole up for a few days. Stay away from your usual haunts. I spoiled the first frame by snatching this when it was planted, but Captain Woods is probably going to try again. For some reason you’re his pigeon, and cops don’t like open cases lingering on the books too long.”
    “Why me?”
    “I was hoping you