Chipped Pearls

by Helen Jacey

  Dolly froze, straw in mouth. She sat up. Then she laughed, hysterically. ‘You crazy?’ Natural actress as she was, she couldn’t hide her shock.

  ‘And Zetty loves you so much, she couldn’t bear you were stuck in jail for something she did, even for you. After she was shot, she confessed to me and Alberta. She’d take the rap, to save your skin. Tell me about your plan, because there’s a few things I can’t figure out. Like why. Why did Hunter have to die?’

  ‘Plan? You snuck liquor in that coffee?’

  ‘I followed you the day you got out of jail. I saw your little rendezvous with your mother. So me and Vivienne had a little chat.’

  As I mentioned Vivienne, her face hardened. Not hate, not love, but something more twisted, something uglier.

  ‘You wanted to frame Linda Hunter, by first making it look like someone framed you. Pretty smart idea, if risky. But you’re a risk-taker, aren’t you, Dolly?’

  ‘No idea what you’re talkin’ about. But go on, this sure ain’t boring!’ Her voice sounded strained despite the attempt at gaiety.

  ‘Maybe you found out from another shop girl in Tilsons what cosmetics Linda Hunter bought that day. How did you know he’d come to the shop? You were real smart to figure that out. I mean, I’m impressed, Dolly. You worked it all out really well.’

  I braced myself. Would flattery do it?

  Dolly leaned back, sighing. ‘Well, ain’t you the smarty-pants, too?’

  Bingo!

  ‘The evil creep who adopted me, he died suddenly. Few years back. Devil’s spawn, that man. A shame, one day he tripped down the stairs and never got up again.’ She looked up, staring at me. ‘He might have had a little push, mind you. Deserved it, after what he did to me.’

  I froze, folding my arms. She was a born killer!

  ‘So I go through his things. Find this letter Vivienne’s written to him, around the time I was born. Saying how she loved me but she couldn’t keep me, askin’ him and his wife to take good care of me. So I came to the city. I just wanted to see her. Was she nice, a good person? And who was my daddy? I finally locate her, took me a bit of time. So I ask her for a job in her beauty parlor, pretending to be broke, didn’t tell her who I was. Vivienne don’t even recognize her own flesh and blood! So, I’m washing rich old ladies’ hair and one day, some girl comes in, crying, real mad at her. Calling her a liar, how she ruined her life. I follow this girl and get it all out of her. How Ronnie got her in the family way, and Vivienne made her get rid of her baby, at a clinic. They used a slimeball PI to pay her off. Got his name too, figure there’ll be more girls like her. So I help her, sending letters asking for more, or he’ll be dead.’

  I stared at her. She was behind the blackmail too?

  ‘As for Vivienne, I find out she will do anything for Ronnie, this guy who don’t love her one bit. Get her to tell me all about him. She idolizes the creep! Why? She ruins my life, to be his crummy secretary all her life? He don’t even like her that way! She was always too old for him. Then one day, I read in the gossip magazines an interview with Linda. She wants him to buy Tilsons Department Store. So I switch jobs. I knew I’d meet him one day, and I did.’

  ‘Playing a real long game, then.’ I sipped my coffee, sickened. Vivienne claimed Hunter wasn’t Dolly’s father. Dolly believed it too. But what was the truth? Maybe it was a good thing she miscarried.

  ‘Only had to screw him a couple of times. A prick’s a prick. Anyhow, I tell Zetty he was just ruinin’ all those lives. She don’t like that one bit! Moms givin’ up their babies, but they get a raw deal outta life anyway? It ain’t fair, is it? So we stopped him. He had it coming. Had a better life than most!’

  She must have had an emotional stranglehold over Zetty, who could no longer be part of her own child’s life. Dolly and Zetty. A cruscading double act.

  ‘And now you want Vivienne to sell up? For the money?’

  ‘Worth a fortune, that shop. And she kept saying no to Mrs. Luciano. Why? To rot near that creep for the rest of her life? Now she’s free like me! Besides, startin’ out on Broadway don’t come cheap. I need acting classes.’

  ‘Is that how you got to know Zetty? When Luciano came to the beauty parlor?’

  She nodded. ‘Yeah. We’d have a smoke together while our bosses talked. I got her into the band, after she tells me she’s a jazz player.’

  I resisted the urge for a cigarette.

  ‘What about Todd Minski?’

  ‘That slimeball! Had tabs on him for a while. Figured it wouldn’t hurt if Zetty pays Minski a visit, get his files on anyone who’s been paid off. She’s hidden them for me.’ She tapped her nose.

  ‘Zetty killed him?’

  Dolly shrugged. ‘Maybe he wasn’t so obligin’? You don’t want to mess with Zetty.’ She finished her drink. ‘Why do you care? He was in on it, hurtin’ all those babies!’

  ‘Why not bump off Vivienne? She’s as much to blame, surely?’

  Dolly looked at me. ‘Kill my mom? You crazy? I just freed her! We can be together now. For the rest of our lives.’

  52

  Alberta. ‘Well, I’ll be…’ She sat down, in her housecoat, totally shocked. ‘Dolly? Zetty? Murderesses?’

  ‘Had us all hoodwinked. Me, most of all. Dolly was the brains, Zetty the loyal muscle.’

  ‘Shoot. I need some air,’ said Alberta, standing up again.

  We went out onto the balcony and looked over the city. Dusk was falling. Lights came on like twinkling diamonds, one by one.

  Alberta spoke softly. ‘All those people down there. Secret lives, doing what they gotta do. How many psychos?’

  ‘More than we realize, I bet.’

  Alberta said, ‘Won’t be surprised if I hear her singing on the jukebox one day. She’ll go to the top, braggin’ and lyin’ all the way.’

  I nodded. ‘Unless…’

  Alberta turned to me. ‘What?’

  ‘You and Dede paid for her defense. If you want me to report what I know, I will. But only anonymously.’

  Introduce myself to the police? No thanks. And I’d been told to stay away from the job by Lauder. Above all, Beatty was now doing the forbidding, albeit nicely. Sonia Parker would feel exactly the same. She’d had a win. I would never work again in this town if anyone knew I’d squealed on Dolly to the police.

  Dolly was a bad seed. If there was such a thing as born criminals, she made the grade. But exposing her would cause many lives to crumble. Lives she didn’t even know about.

  Alberta ran her hand along the top of the wall, her fingers lightly tapping it as if it were piano keys. ‘Remember you asked me why we were helping Dolly?’

  I nodded.

  ‘One night, about six months ago, Dolly gets chatting to some guy, hanging around one of our shows. He’s asking questions about Dede and me, snooping around a few of the places we go. Turns out Dede’s pops had paid him. He’s a PI. Pops wanted the lowdown on his daughter’s private life.’

  ‘So Dolly warned you?’

  ‘Uh-huh. If it wasn’t for Dolly and her big mouth chatting to the creep in the first place, we wouldn’t have known a thing about it. Earnestine handled him for us.’

  ‘Earnestine?’

  ‘Earnestine Chappelle.’

  ‘The bus driver?’

  ‘Little secret. She ain’t no bus driver. Earnestine’s like you, a sleuth, but for my people.’ Alberta gave a wry smile. ‘Why you looking like that?’

  ‘Because…I don’t know. I didn’t….’

  ‘I’m just a driver,’ she’d said. I felt like a fool.

  ‘Because she’s good. And she don’t get drunk on the job.’ Alberta raised a brow.

  I would never live that down.

  ‘Wait a minute. Is that why Earnestine came to Santa Barbara?’

  ‘I asked her to come. I kinda had my doubts about Floriana Luciano. Didn’t want any of us to get in trouble. That’s why the bus engine got started as soon as those shots were fired, and our bags were all packe
d. Ready to split. Earnestine didn’t like the look of the hoodlums.’

  I stared at her. Earnestine may have seen Simonetta in the toilet. Had she also worked out she was the assassin?

  Alberta grimaced. ‘Hunter was a big cheese. If we do nothing, the cops might go after somebody innocent. Just to say they got somebody. That ain’t good.’

  I could sense her anxiety.

  ‘I think they’ll drop it.’ I actually did, Beatty had implied as much. Hunter’s legacy demanded secrecy from everybody.

  ‘What if Zetty comes round? I mean, she is the killer.’ Alberta, hugged herself. It was getting cold. ‘But I bet she wouldn’t have done it if Dolly hadn’t got in her head.’

  Floriana wouldn’t like me to incriminate Zetty. Just like Beatty didn’t want me to either. I had to turn a blind eye to protect our clients, and our interests. Murky waters indeed.

  ‘Cross that bridge when we come to it. Till then, if we squeal about Dolly, and she’s caught, I reckon she could even pin it on her mother. She knows about all the love children Vivienne made go away. She’s stashed files on them someplace. Vivienne’s no angel but she didn’t kill anybody. And you know what? Dolly could easily make it all stick.’

  ‘Got all bases covered, then.’

  I nodded.

  We went back in. Alberta put her hands on her hips.

  ‘I’m not so sure I like knowing Dolly’s out there, knowing what she does.’ AboutDede and me, she could have said.

  That made sense. Nobody needed a psycho knowing their secrets.

  ‘And one more thing. When she said she was carrying Hunter’s child, I wasn’t so sure. Sol and her were close for a while, just didn’t want to spread gossip around. If she had the baby in jail, and it turned out to be a brown baby, it would be given away to strangers. We had a lot of reasons to help her.’

  I remembered the ‘S’ on the lighter.

  Then she said something I wish she hadn’t.

  ‘Sorry if that’s close to the bone.’

  ‘You did the right thing,’ I said, shutting out her implication.

  53

  All I wanted was to sit on June’s balcony, looking out, being soothed by the hum of her sewing machine and listening to her prattle about pleasant things.

  I parked Mabel and rang the bell. No answer. I was just about to leave a note when the door opened.

  A young woman with dark rings under her eyes. She was very thin, her skin like grey oyster shell. She wore a blue pinafore dress and a white shirt underneath. Her hair was tied back under a cream and pale blue striped scarf. This had to be Sarah.

  ‘Hi. Is June around?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. She will be back soon. Do you want to wait?’ Her accent was strongly Eastern European.

  I hesitated, remembering Sarah didn’t like the company of strangers. ‘It’s okay, I’m sure you’re busy. Say Elvira popped by.’

  ‘Of course. But she will be here very soon. Come in.’

  Maybe her suffering meant she could sense a different kind of troubled soul. She opened the door wider. I raised a brow. ‘Sure, if it’s no bother.’

  I followed her up to June’s airy workshop.

  ‘You would like some tea?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll wait.’ I was about to head for the balcony when I noticed the door to the smaller workshop—Sarah’s safe place—was wide open.

  And there it was.

  A long shimmer of white gossamer, illuminated like a moonbeam against the room’s dark walls.

  It was most perfect wedding dress, descending gracefully from a dressmaker’s mannequin.

  I moved towards the room, a moth drawn to light. Sarah followed.

  Layers of sheer silk floated over heavy brocade panels. The top had a high neck, a lacy frill around the bust-line. The long train gleamed with tiny pearls. It was a wedding dress I would choose. Now someone else was having it made, and by June.

  ‘That’s a beautiful dress.’

  ‘Yes. A lot of work.’ Then she added. ‘I like to work.’

  I met her eyes. Was she married? I couldn’t ask. She may have lost family, like Barney had.

  ‘You’re very talented.’

  A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. ‘I was a seamstress in Warsaw. Like June.’ She took a slim box out of the pocket of apron. ‘Now I must sew all these.’ She opened the lid. Inside, hundreds of tiny seed pearls.

  Perfect pearls, for the perfect wedding dress.

  ‘Hello! I’m back!’ June’s cheerful voice rang through.

  She bounded upstairs into the room. She wore a wonderful cape in pale mint that set off her ginger hair. ‘Elvira! Happy New Year!’ We embraced.

  ‘Sarah was just showing me the wedding dress. It’s lovely. But bridal gowns?’

  ‘I couldn’t say no! The bride-to-be is so beautiful. She’s having a huge wedding in April, a wonderful spring wedding. It will take Sarah all that time just to sew the pearls on. The bride-to-be is marrying a detective. He recommended me, apparently! I have no idea how or why!’

  Of course. The Fiancée. Lauder had known all about June’s ordeal. It made sense. I felt numbness spreading through me.

  Move on! Forget him!

  ‘Well, she’s lucky you’re making it.’ I said, doing my best to sound bright.

  All three of us stared at the dress in silence. If white meant hope, what did this dress symbolize for each of us?

  After a while, Sarah spoke. ‘I make tea.’

  June smiled. ‘Thanks, Sarah.’

  The Fiancée had all the luck. She got the pure white wedding dress out of June. I got the red one, now in the basin in my hotel suite, having blood stains soaked out of it. Then I laughed. Genuinely.

  June smiled, curious. ‘What’s so funny?

  ‘Life. Life is.’

  June grinned at me. She said, ‘I’m real glad you’re happy.’

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to give sincere thanks to the many people who helped to bring Chipped Pearls to life:

  Sheila Hyde for editing the book and providing insightful notes; Elaine Sharples for typesetting and book design; Cassia Friello for cover design; Claire Jenkins for graphic help; Patrick Altes for endlessly reading drafts, endless cups of tea and love and support.

  I was lucky to have encouragement on early stages of Chipped Pearls from two novel writing groups, and in particular I would like to thank Louise van Wingerden, Karen Prentice, Emma Scattergood, Kerry Evans, and Andrea Samuelson.

  At the time of writing, I am thrilled the magnificent Cinema Museum in London will be the fitting venue for the launch of Chipped Pearls and thanks to Martin Humphries and the volunteers for their support.

  As ever, thanks must go to all my family and friends who have provided encouragement, love, and for spreading the Elvira Slate word! You all know who you are.

  Creating a private detective who is feminist in a noir world has been a big ambition for a long time. Lastly I would like to thank the readers from all over the world who have contacted me to say Elvira Slate is their kind of 1940s woman. This means more to me than I can express here.

  This edition published by Shedunnit Productions in 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Shedunnit Productions

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  The right of Helen Jacey to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-9164417-8-1

  Published by Shedunnit Productions Ltd, PO Box 300,

  St Leonards on Sea, TN38
1JR

  www.shedunnit.com