Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

is a marvelous dancer,” Miss Fraser simpered up at him.
    I was right; she sounded like an idiot calling him “darling.” Or maybe I was just grinding my teeth because she was stomping on my turf, even though I hastily reminded myself that I had no interest in him whatsoever. None!
    “Is he?” Mr. Martin gave me a speculative look.
    “Miss M—Miller!” I improvised hastily. “Let me get you a glass of champagne.”
    “Thank you, Grey darling,” Lily said. “And thank you, Phil, that was a lovely turn around the floor you gave me.” Mr. Martin had his hand on Lily’s back to guide her over to me, and I shivered at the thought of his hand on my skin—but this was no time for idle speculation.
    Miss Fraser seemed to resent the fact that both Mr. Martin and I were paying attention to an older woman, and she said spitefully, “You must be exhausted, Miss Miller, to dance for so long at your age.”
    “Oh no, that was nothing! I could go on all night,” Lily said blithely. She turned to me. “Grey darling, I’m parched. Get me something to drink at once, or I shall expire on the spot!”
    “Immediately, Miss Miller.” I led her away, listening to her stifled giggle.
    “What a rude, boring girl,” Lily said. “Phil could do so much better.”
    “Maybe he didn’t want to waste tonight on a real date,” I suggested. “Time for your disappearing act.” Lily nodded, and I led her to the bar, procuring a glass of champagne for her. “Stay right here for five minutes unless one of them approaches you.”
    “Should we synchronize our watches?” Lily teased. Note: Lily Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    179

    wasn’t wearing a watch.
    “Just meet me in the ladies’ room in a few minutes,” I said.
    She nodded and contemplated the bubbles in her glass, carefully keeping turned away from Mr. Hamilton’s table.

    I WENT to scope out the ladies’ room before I let Lily loose in there.
    Yeah, I know, that sounds weird. The maid sitting in there guarding the hand towels thought so, too, when I opened the door and walked in without a sign that I knew I was in the wrong place.
    I held out a sawbuck to the girl and told her, “Fade if you don’t want trouble.”
    She looked at the bill and then at my face and decided she wanted a quieter life. She scooped the money and vanished.
    Glancing around the ladies’ room, I could tell men were definitely getting the short end of the stick. For some reason, dames rated a couch! And the stalls were marble, no urinals, which when you think of it makes perfect sense, but they also had baskets of cute little soaps and linen towels and big fancy mirrors. No wonder they trooped in there in herds. Or maybe it was gaggles. I could just imagine Charlie seeking sanctuary from some party in here, curling up on the couch with her feet tucked under her (to the detriment of her dress) and with her new Jane Austen in her hand.
    There was a starburst inlaid in the center of the circular marble floor in colors of cream, beige, and pink. Each sink had its own marble counter sculpted into a curved shape that mimicked the circular theme from the nightclub, with gold-shaded lamps glinting in the mirrors.
    There were upholstered chairs for the ladies to sit on while they touched up their war paint.
    The mirrors had curtains swagged at the top and cascading down each side for a touch of elegance, and there were vases of white orchids, for crissakes! Real ones! Pretty containers of womanly things like lotion and powder were scattered around.

    180

    CATT FORD

    No one was in there except me, so I beat it down the hall and found the service passage just where George told me it would be. I pushed open the door to the rear of the hotel and found George and Celestine waiting there. Silently, Celestine entered, and we returned to the ladies’ room together. This time she went in ahead of me and waved me in once she’d inspected for visitors.
    She took the maid’s place at the counter with the towels.
    “I don’t know what’ll happen when he walks in, but if he tells you to scram, don’t go too far,” I instructed her.
    “Of course. I know what to do, Mr. Deeck,” Celestine said.
    “Randall,” I muttered. At least Celestine looked the part, having worn her maid outfit to the shindig.
    The door opened behind me, and I whirled around with my hand on my gun, drawing a sigh of relief when I saw it was only Lily.
    “I hope you weren’t planning on