Chipped Pearls

by Helen Jacey

  Her poinsettia hair clip was dangling over her ear. Tears had smudged her mascara and the rims of her eyes were bright red, almost the same color as her dress. Her chapped lips were mottled with the remains of scarlet lipstick. Naturally chubby cheeks made her head look somewhat too big for her tiny body. The mass of messy curls didn’t help the lack of proportion.

  Disheveled, but definitely familiar. She was the same white singer that I’d once seen at Joyce’s with The Charmettes.

  Sonia said, ‘Hi, Dolly. Come in and sit down. Miss Slate is helping me with your case.’

  Dolly surveyed me briefly. Then she glared at Sonia. ‘I swear to God, I didn’t kill Ronnie. I loved him. And he was going to take care of me!’ Her childlike body contorted with involuntary shudders.

  ‘All right. Calm down. Take a seat.’ Sonia said, not exactly warm.

  Sniffing, Dolly obeyed and sat on the sofa. Alberta joined her. ‘Will I go to jail? I can’t!’ Dolly whispered, staring up at Sonia, and then to me. ‘What about the baby?’

  ‘Baby?’

  I looked at Sonia for her reaction.

  Weariness and surprise duked it out on her face.

  5

  Dolly was bawling. ‘I’m having Ronnie’s baby! He promised he’d take care of us, and now somebody’s done that terrible, wicked thing to him. Who would do that? Why?’

  ‘How far gone are you?’ Sonia barked.

  ‘A month? God’s blessed us!’

  I focused on my nails. Babies weren’t necessarily blessings. They could ruin lives.

  Sonia snapped, ‘Dolly, Hunter was married. He has kids.’

  ‘I know. But we loved each other.’

  Sonia’s pen hovered over her notepad. ‘All right. Let’s take it from the beginning. What time did you get there?’

  ‘Around nine. Ronnie said he had something special for me. A gift.’

  ‘But didn’t you have plans to sing with Alberta?’

  ‘Sure I did. I meant to head down to Joyce’s. Afterwards. We play kinda late.’ She looked a little ashamed.

  Sonia looked confused. ‘Joyce’s? Is that a nightclub?’

  Dolly blurted out, ‘Yeah, for ladies who like the ladies. I’m not that way inclined myself, but we’re all God’s children, right?’

  I briefly met Alberta’s eyes. She was deadpanning. It was an I know you know, but we’re both gonna pretend we don’t know look.

  Dolly turned to Alberta. ‘I didn’t mean to let the girls down. You’ll tell ‘em for me?’

  ‘Wanda’s got it. Don’t you worry about that.’ Alberta’s voice was soothing.

  ‘Wanda’s got a real good voice. Better than mine.’

  ‘You’re just different. Nobody’s better.’ Alberta smiled indulgently.

  ‘I’ll be there tomorrow! Can’t miss that!’

  Sonia interjected sharply. ‘Best not to count on that.’

  ‘Why?’ Dolly looked genuinely surprised. ‘I didn’t do nothing bad!’

  ‘You discovered a body and there are official steps to follow. That can take time.’

  She was bluffing. She could not risk Dolly having a fit of hysteria right now.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘So I go up by the stairs, don’t like elevators. Make me feel like a chicken in a coop! Chitchatted with the doorman. Bogdan, or something. Think he’s Romanian. He likes me, friendly guy. The door was unlocked. Ronnie does that sometimes, if he’s already in bed waiting for me to do Baby Dolly.’ She lowered her lids.

  ‘Baby Dolly? What do you mean?’ Sonia asked.

  Dolly pulled a coy expression. ‘Our little game, I dance for him in something pretty. Skimpy lingerie. But he don’t say nothing, figure he’s asleep. So I get in bed and snuggle up. Next thing I know, something’s all wet. Cold and sticky stuff. Thought he’d gotten sick, or something. Then I feel that horrible great big knife. Stuck right here.’ She patted her heart. ‘I hollered! His skin was like ice. That’s when I knew he’s dead! I thought, maybe they’re still inside, maybe they’re coming for me, too! I fling my clothes back on and just ran. Down the fire escape.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked. Sonia turned, amazed I had the audacity to ask her client a question.

  Dolly’s eyelids fluttered down. ‘Had to, is why. Ronnie said nobody could know about us. I promised him I wouldn’t tell a soul.’

  Sonia interrupted. ‘But you said the doorman knew you. Hunter must have been okay about that, so why not ask him for help? He could have called the cops, or an ambulance.’

  Dolly’s eyes glanced sidelong at her attorney. ‘Ronnie was dead, I tell ya! Nobody could bring him back! You blamin’ me? I couldn’t do nothin’! I couldn’t save him!’ With that, she burst into tears.

  Full-blown hysterics were a second away.

  I studied Dolly’s crumpled face. An irritating child. Hunter may well have drilled secrecy into her, but the fact Dolly was unable to foresee any consequences to her actions in the heat of the moment was plausible enough. I bet she couldn’t do it in ordinary life.

  Alberta passed Dolly a handkerchief. ‘There, there, honey.’

  Sonia’s face was blank, the lawyerly brain at work. ‘Dolly. I’m not blaming you. But the police will ask exactly these questions, so we have to get the story straight.’

  I looked at Sonia. ‘May I ask another question?’ Sonia flicked her hand impatiently. I turned to Dolly. ‘Did you notice anything else in there?’

  ‘Like what? I just ran. I called Alberta from a bar a few blocks along. She picked me up and brought me here.’

  ‘Called her at Joyce’s, you mean?’

  Dolly nodded. Alberta did the same. Sonia lit up another cigarette, this time not offering them around. Her eyes flicked to Alberta, then back to Dolly. ‘Did Hunter mention anything about any troubles with anyone? Family, business?’

  ‘No. He said he liked me because he could just have fun.’ Dolly sniffed. ‘He don’t get much with Her!’

  ‘Who do you mean?’

  ‘His wife is who. She don’t treat him so good. She got her own life.’ She rolled her orb-like eyes meaningfully.

  ‘How did you meet him?’

  ‘At the Tilsons Department Store. I work there. He came in with her. Our boss said he was interested in buying the store!’ She looked down. ‘Guess he took a shine to me. Told him I’m a singer. Next thing I know, he slips me his card. Said he knew somebody who could help my career.’

  ‘Did the wife see any of this exchange?’

  ‘No. She was busy shopping. Beauty products, I recall.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Couple of months ago?’

  Sonia jotted a few notes down. ‘What about this ‘something special’? The gift Hunter said he had for you. Did you find it?’

  ‘No! Like I said, I ran.’ Her mouth turned down, and she scowled, focusing on her hands in her lap. It was an odd expression, like a naughty child. Alberta, Sonia and I exchanged a look. Alberta asked. ‘What’s up, Dolly?’

  ‘I think I done something real dumb.’

  Sonia snapped, ‘What?’

  Dolly put her hand in her pocket and pulled out something flashy and gold. It was a man’s wristwatch. ‘It’s Ronnie’s.’

  Alberta shot me a discreet Oh, shit look.

  Sonia got up, walked over to Dolly and took it out of her hands. She held it up to the light. ‘I can barely read the inscription.’

  I rummaged in my purse, then produced Beatty’s gift to me, the magnifying glass. ‘Here.’

  Sonia took it, without giving any indication she was impressed by me being so well prepared. She scrutinized the wristwatch under the lamp. When she was done, she passed the magnifying glass back to me. Slowly she walked over to Dolly, fixing her with an icy glare. ‘How did you get it?’

  ‘I took it.’ Dolly looked down. Her caught-in-the-act naughty girl look couldn’t get any more Shirley Temple.

  ‘You mean to say you removed it from his dead body?’

  Do
lly folded her arms, staring defiantly into the distance.

  There was a long silence. Sonia didn’t move. Alberta clearly didn’t relish Sonia towering over her and edged herself back along the sofa, slightly away from Dolly.

  Sonia said, ‘I asked you something. If you want me to help you, you need to answer.’

  Alberta reached out, touching Dolly’s arm. ‘Girl, you gotta answer!’

  Dolly glared up. ‘Figure I can sell it and get me a pram, a crib or something. Ronnie said he was gonna get me the best of everything! How’s he gonna do that if he’s dead? Who’s gonna look out for my baby? I can’t do it on my own. No folks. Don’t hardly earn a cent.’

  She could get thousands of cribs with that watch.

  Alberta said, ‘Oh, Dolly. That sure ain’t right.’

  Dolly shot Alberta a fleeting look. I knew the expression. It’s all right for you. Dolly’s face crumpled into tragedy again. Alberta looked out the window, as if she was biting her tongue. Wishing she hadn’t picked up the phone earlier, no doubt.

  Sonia seemed oblivious to the dynamics. ‘Which arm did you take it off?’

  Dolly frowned, flustered. ‘Hell, how should I know?’

  ‘Well, you had time to think about taking it. Try to remember.’

  Alberta got up, started to gather the coffee cups. She was finding this painful.

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Was he right- or left-handed?’

  Dolly looked down, sobbing again.

  Sonia finally moved back to her chair, studying Dolly. When she spoke, her voice was silky and cajoling, as if she was talking to a kid. ‘Okay, Dolly. Focus as hard as you can. Close your eyes. What side of the bed were you, and how was he lying? Take your time.’

  Dolly shut her eyes, imagining. Her mouth turned down. Then her eyes bugged open wide. ‘The left. Yes, it was his left arm.’

  ‘You’re absolutely sure?’

  ‘Yeah, he was on his side. Can I have it back, please? I’m gonna need the money real bad. I don’t wanna have to give this baby up ‘cause I’m broke.’

  ‘You know who gave it to Hunter?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I do. Inscribed here, plain as day. Devotedly, Linda. Linda Hunter, his wife, we can safely assume. Don’t you think she’ll ask the police where it is?’ The maternal tone was vaporizing by the second.

  ‘Why? He could’ve just taken it off someplace before he met me. Or she could think those lying cops coulda took it. Bet those guys ain’t above thievin’.’

  ‘Sorry, Dolly. I can’t let you keep it.’

  ‘You going to give it back to her? But she’s stinkin’ rich! What about me?’ Dolly whined.

  I looked at Sonia. Was she going to just lose the wristwatch?

  Sonia stared icily at her client. ‘Did you close the apartment door behind you?’

  ‘I think so.’ Dolly looked a bit vague. ‘Ain’t locked.’

  ‘One last thing, do you have any priors?’

  Dolly was all indignation. ‘I do not.’

  Sonia gave Alberta a fake smile. ‘Take Dolly into my office for a moment.’

  Alberta held the tray of cups. She nodded to Dolly. ‘C’mon, Doll. Let’s give the ladies some time.’

  Dolly stood up.

  ‘You gonna help me, right? Get me out of this jam? You know, I think somebody’s been following me!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A man. Waitin’ around my rooming house.’ Dolly explained she had seen an overweight middle-aged man, sitting in a green car. Twice. She was vague on details. Sonia sat down, and jotted a few notes. ‘All right. Thanks, Dolly.’

  With her free hand, Alberta opened the door to let Dolly through. Then she looked back at me, with a This is bad, isn’t it? expression.

  With Dolly’s fingerprints on the weapon, a stolen wristwatch and, last but not least, the doorman seeing her in the lobby, it was hardly looking good.

  My mind raced. If it had been a premeditated killing motivated by greed, Dolly had plenty of time to hide the wristwatch before she called Alberta. It wasn’t the kind of thing you forgot you had on you. Taking the watch was, surely, pure desperation?

  I’d been there before, in the past. Wanting to feather your nest any way possible when bigger birds were circling to finish you off. Survival brings out the selfish risk-taker in people. But any half-decent prosecutor could convincingly twist desperation into motive to kill.

  When we were alone, Sonia let out a long sigh. ‘The prosecution could have a field day. She’s broke, pregnant by a man who—it could be alleged—was giving her the brush-off. So she takes vengeance every way possible. Kills him on the spur of the moment, takes a valuable item. To top it all, her prints are probably on the weapon. Unless we pull something out of the bag, she’s probably halfway to death row.’

  I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to join in with her musing.

  ‘Pretty good frame-up, then. What about this guy? Could be suspicious?’

  ‘Could be a neighbor, anyone. Fat, middle-aged, and a green car!’

  I wasn’t sure I agreed. The real killer could easily be spying on the affair. Or using somebody to do it.

  Sonia flicked over the Hunter wristwatch and checked the time. ‘You should go. It’s coming up to two hours since she left Hunter.’

  I stood up.

  Sonia followed suit. Then she dangled the watch out, with a curious look on her face. Rather like an imperious mistress ringing a bell for a serving girl.

  A look that conveyed, I’m not done with you.

  And then she said the unthinkable. ‘If nobody has arrived, break in and put this back on the body. And wipe any prints off the knife while you’re at it.’

  6

  I knew the private investigator’s lot would be risky. To get results, you put yourself on the line. Bluff your way through dicey situations, maybe pay a bribe if the cops find you snooping where you shouldn’t. Even better, make friends with the right cops. Have names to drop and strings to pull.

  Or you play it safe with divorce cases or missing persons. Cases where honey trapping sleazy spouses is the biggest thrill of the job. Rarely encountering law enforcement.

  And then there were the fictional PIs. I’d read enough detective novels in the clink, hand-me-downs from do-gooders. I could never relate to these private detectives. The hero was always a prig, judgmental and moralistic. He or she never had to slum it, to steal to survive, or do a spell in the joint. They showed the cops up as fools, but they were always on the same side. And they could blend in, because society respected them. Everybody was impressed when they made mugs of the cops by cracking the case.

  The truth was, I had no idea what kind of sleuth I was. Ex-con Private Investigator would not look good on my calling card.

  Whatever type I would end up, this case was fast shaping into something well out of my league.

  Sonia Parker was asking me to do something blatantly criminal and didn’t seem too bothered about it.

  Low-key infidelity cases suddenly began to look very appealing.

  If I was caught at the crime scene wiping down a blade stuck in a very dead body, or shoving a priceless wristwatch back on the corpse, I was dead meat. In custody, how long before they cottoned on Elvira Slate was a fake? There were no genuine records verifying her existence.

  How long could I hold out in an interrogation?

  Being at the scene was bad enough, but tampering with the body and destroying or handling evidence? Any two-bit prosecution attorney could make mincemeat out of me. And would Dede Dedeaux be so keen to stump up for my legal fees? Would Sonia Parker be on my team?

  Interesting question.

  Up till recently, I believed I would shoot my brains out rather than let myself get caught. I could not risk anyone seeing my face in the papers. If anyone recognized me as Jemima Day, or Ida Boyd, it wouldn’t just be me who faced trouble.

  Detective Randall Lauder could also get in deep shit. At best, finished profess
ionally. Worst? He would face a long stretch. He was an LAPD vice detective who had lied to Scotland Yard, telling them Jemima Day was dead, to get them off my back. And with the word out I was dead in Blighty, he had got the mob off my back too. The Little Italy crew had been after me for killing two of their own as I escaped London.

  Two birds, one stone.

  If I owed anyone anything, I owed him. Thanks to him, I was beginning to like life again, stretching out in the sunshine, feeling free.

  Lauder wanted me to be the safe, low-key type of PI. I couldn’t blame him. We hadn’t yet discussed the big what if? What if I was ever caught and questioned?

  Now I wish we had.

  Sonia’s words sliced into my reverie. ‘Right now, there’s a slim window for damage control.’

  I blinked hard. ‘Yeah. A window slamming down hard on my fingers.’

  She shot me one of her now familiar steely glares. ‘So Dede was wrong? You won’t do what it takes?’

  ‘I will, within reason. Does this sound reasonable to you?’