by Janet Leigh
“Your aunt must be delivering to his clients.”
“Best moonshine in the state. Mamma Bea still makes the recipe for family functions.”
“I love your Mamma Bea.”
The sounds of music met my ears as we turned down Exchange Street. The Baptist church sat at the end of the street like the mothership monitoring the constituents of the town as if they were crime ridden and needed absolving.
The wide street allowed cars to park lining the curbs, separated every so often by a hitching rail for horses. A few restaurants, soda fountains, and boarding houses lined the walkway. The Longhorn Saloon occupied one side of the street and seemed to be full of life.
A black Ford police car sat angled in front of the saloon—the same one where Marco met Bonnie and Clyde. There was clearly an investigation going on regarding the shooting.
As we approached the saloon, a man came out and shot six rounds into the night sky. Ace startled, and I grabbed his arm.
Another man followed wearing a badge and shouted at the guy. “Cut it out, Henry, we’ve had enough shootin' for one night.”
“Sorry, officer, it's my birthday,” he said, returning his gun to the holster he wore at his side.
The officer nodded, got into his car, and drove away. The man spotted us standing off to the side and tipped his hat, “Pardon me, folks, I'm celebratin'.”
“Looks like you're having a swell of a time,” Ace said in a Texas drawl that made me wince.
The guy's eyebrows rose at Ace's remarks. “Sure been an excitin' night, what with the Barrow gang shootin' up the place, and all.”
“Yes, we heard about it. Are they still around?” I asked him. I had read the locals would hide the outlaws from the law, and I was hoping this man might have some gossip.
“Darlin', if you want to come inside I'll tell you all about it. Unless you're with the funny fellar?” He nodded at Ace. Ace's face fell.
“He's my—fiancé,” I said, and Ace stiffened beside me. The man's eyebrows shot up, and I interlocked my elbow with Ace's in a move of solidarity.
“Pardon me again then, ma'am. Hadn't seen hide nor hair of the pair since they shot up the place, disappeared like ghosts. Rumor has it they was shacked up at the Stockyards Hotel, up the road there.” He tipped his hat in the direction of the hotel and went back inside.
Chapter 16
Ace and I walked east on Exchange Street toward the famous hotel.
He patted my hand resting on the crook of his elbow. “I've never had a fiancée before. This might be fun.”
“Sorry, it was the first thing that came to mind.”
“I think we should maintain the ruse. I don't want to be called a funny fella.”
I laughed. I wasn't sure Ace could hide his nonconformity even from these cowboys.
“Maybe you should stick to your British accent. We'll say you moved to Dallas for business reasons.”
“Sounds good, doll. What kind of business am I in?”
I looked at his clothing. “Suits.”
“Oh, yes, girl. Most definitely suits.”
* * *
The Stockyards Hotel was a three-story brick building located on the corner of Exchange and Main Street. Ace stopped at the entrance and pulled off one of his rings.
“Here love, if we are going to be engaged, you'll need a ring.”
He dropped the ring into my palm, and I slid it on my finger. The blue diamond sparkled in the white gold square mounting with yellow gold filigrees ribboning down the sides. It was stunning.
Before we went in, Ace pulled me to the side. “Ok, love muffin, no kissing on the lips. It wigs me out.”
“Got it. How about the cheek?”
“Cheek’s fine. Stay away from my ear. It’s a turn on no matter what the sex.”
“I’ll try to remember.”
I started into the hotel, and Ace halted my entrance again.
“Doll, I’ve been having a bit of a dry spell in the sex department so try not to breath too heavy on my neck either.”
“You’ve got a lot of rules.”
“Just protecting my manhood.”
The swanky lobby, done in reds and golds, contained a mixture of leather sofas, fringed carpets, and antique armchairs. A registration desk that reminded me of a teller’s window from an old western bank sat off to the right. The intensity in the air was a combination of excitement and the musty scent of a hotel containing community bathrooms.
Two police officers were trying to control the commotion in the lobby, while a man dressed like Dick Tracy questioned the staff. A stout woman in a tidy black dress with an aproned front waved her feather duster as she spoke.
“They grabbed their belongin’s and run outta here like nobody’s business.”
Ace and I slipped past the disturbance and took the stairs to the third floor. Room 305 buzzed with police, reporters, and people craning their necks to get a look at the place previously occupied by Bonnie and Clyde. Guests in nightgowns and robes stood in the hallway as the police searched each room. Ace ducked into one of the rooms, leaving me standing alone in the hall. He returned a few minutes later, and I scowled at him.
“I doubt they're hiding in someone's closet,” I said.
“If I recently shot up a saloon and the law wanted me, I would make myself scarce,” Ace agreed.
We went back downstairs and out into the night.
“What now?” I asked him.
His hazel eyes twinkled, and I followed his gaze to a woman standing on the corner across from the hotel. She shielded her mouth with her hand to light a cigarette.
“I think I 'ave found one of me people,” he said tugging my arm to cross the street.
The woman leaned against a lamppost as she exhaled smoke rings into the night air. The red hair piled on top of her head gave her another two inches on her six-foot frame. The sparkling feather comb in her hair matched her shoes, but something was off about her red satin dress. The high neck trimmed in lace keyholed to give a peek at a stacked bosom. A bosom lacking the soft curve of femininity.
“Hello there,” Ace said to her.
“Hello, yourself.”
“I'm Ace and this is my uhm, fiancée, Jennifer.”
She eyed me. “I don't do threes, and I don't do your kind.” She flicked ash from her cigarette and took a long drag. Pushing away from the post, she started toward a car parked at the street.
Ace stepped in front of her. “I think maybe you are one of…my kind.”
She exhaled a stream of smoke, dropped her cigarette on the ground, and daintily squashed out the butt with the toe of her size twelve glittery pump.
“Damn, I thought I looked better than that.”
“Honey, it takes one to know one.”
“Why are you betrothed to her?” She gave a nod in my direction.
“I'm just for show,” I said, adding my input to the conversation.
“Stella,” she extended a hand to Ace and then to me. I surmised from her grip and her masculine forearm, she had more than stockings under her dress.
“Can I help you with something?”
“We want to meet Bonnie and Clyde. Have you seen 'em?” Ace asked her.
Stella paused, considered. “I like your accent. Where are you from?”
“A little town outside of London.”
“I could use a man like you in my line of work.”
Ace blushed. “Sorry, hon. I'm only in town for a short time.”
“We're friends of Bonnie Parker's ma. We need to locate her and pass on a message from her family,” I said, crossing my fingers it would be reason enough for Stella to help us.
“I heard they caused a ruckus at the Longhorn, but I know where they were headed. You'll need me to get in the joint and it'll cost you.”
Damn. Since Jake didn't arrange the transport, we didn't have any money. How were we going to coerce Stella to help us?
“How about five clams?” Ace removed a wallet from his pocket, a
nd I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Make it ten and I can buy that new Emerson radio I've been eyeing in the Montgomery Ward catalog.”
“Deal.” Ace opened the wallet, grinned wide, and said, “Thank you, mister moneybags.”
Stella gave Ace a curious glance, and I did the same.
Ace pulled a stack of money from the wallet and peeled off a ten-dollar bill.
“You really are mister moneybags,” Stella purred. “Maybe we can get to know each other better.”
Ace returned the wallet to his suit pocket and winked at me. “After we meet Bonnie Parker.”
Stella gestured toward her brown and yellow Chevrolet. Ace opened the passenger door, and I slid in next to Stella. The three speed, white-walled coupe would be considered a classic in my time. Tonight, it smelled like whiskey and cigarette smoke. Stella put her key in the ignition, and we motored off to find our brigand.
“I'm taking you to my place of business in Arlington. I manage a brothel on the grounds of a hidden casino.”
“You run a brothel?” Ace asked Stella.
“Sure do, honey. Make a respectable living, and I give girls work. During this economy, they'd be starving on the streets if it weren't for the generosity of the owner of the casino. My girls are protected from the lawmen. Oh, they bust in and make a scene from time to time for the benefit of the teetotalers, but we've taken precautions, so they can't make any arrests. We can turn our house into a girl’s dormitory in the blink of an eye.”
I recalled Gertie mentioning the hidden casino on the top of a hill in Arlington. She told me it was raided and turned into a Baptist university.
“Course, most of the lawmen come in to see my girls. Hell, half the men in this town drop by on a weekly basis. They prefer my girls over Miss Molly’s and her precious boarding house.” Stella threw her head back and gave a throaty laugh.
The mention of horny men and loose women brought Caiyan to my mind.
“Stella, have you seen a man about six-two, dark hair…” I paused because I wasn't sure if Caiyan was speaking with a Texas accent or if he was using his own. He could be anything.
“Honey, if you need a man's attention, you've come to the right place. There will be plenty to choose from.”
Jeez. Searching the premises might be easier.
The car bumped along the Bankhead Highway. The combination of automobile tires and horse-drawn wagons created ruts in the road, making our journey painful on the backside.
“I can only get you inside the gate for now. I must prepare for my show, and I'm running late thanks to these damn roads. After I'm dolled up and check on the girls, I can escort you to the casino,” Stella said as she slowed the car and turned off the highway into the grounds of the casino.
Ace and I bobbed our heads in appreciation.
* * *
Two iron gates greeted us, flanked by a guard house. The guard came out, bent down, and shined a light into the car.
“Who ya got with you there, Miss Stella?” he asked.
“Hey Benny, these are friends of mine. They're helping me with the customers tonight.”
He shined his light at Ace and me. Ace squinted and gave him a finger wave.
“I dunno 'bout this one ma'am,” the guard said holding the light on Ace.
“Oh, he's for Mr. Randolph Scott, ordered him special.” The guard nodded. The gates opened, and he waved us through.
Ace's mouth hung unhinged, and his voice ratcheted up a few notches. “Randolph Scott comes here?”
“Why yes, honey. When he's in town, he comes here on a regular basis. Normally, he has an appointment with me, but I could introduce you if you like.”
A smile snaked its way across Stella's face, and I knew her mental cash register went cha-ching at the thought of fixing Ace up with the famous actor.
“We're here on business,” I said, frowning at Ace.
“If I land a chance to meet Randolph Scott, Bonnie Parker will have to wait a minute.”
I sighed. My wingman was having a fangirl moment and leaving me with a brigand, a wayward boyfriend, and a runaway aunt.
Chapter 17
A winding road led us up to a house perched on the top of a hill with a view of the city. When we arrived, it seemed to be a common house turned into a restaurant on top of a hill. There weren’t any blinking lights or arrows pointing the way to the casino. The wooden sign in front of the house read Top O'Hill Terrace. A set of stacked stone steps led up to the porch.
“This is the place,” she said as we drove by. “The restaurant is a front for the speakeasy hidden in the basement. I'm not allowed inside the casino. Orders from the misses who runs the place. My girls have to stay in the ‘dormitory,’ but I sing in the tea garden tonight.” Her mouth drew into a thin line. “I'm the late, late show because most folks are in the casino, but nevertheless, I put on a hell of an act.”
Stella pulled the car toward the back of the grounds and parked in front of a two-story building. Two women were leaning against the front railing. A stunning platinum blonde and a hefty brunette dressed in halter tops and short skirts smiled at us as we approached. I found it ironic—the call girls of the 1930's dressed remarkably like the teenage girls of present day.
“Can I offer you something, honey?” One of the women purred at Ace as he walked toward her.
“You don't have anything I'm looking for,” he told her as we passed.
“What about you? Need a good time?” She asked me.
I shrugged. Not my thing.
“Can I have him?” The platinum blonde asked Stella, gesturing toward Ace with a keen eye on his diamond ring.
“Sorry, Marla, he’s not a customer.” Stella signaled for us to follow. “Come on inside. I must change for my show, and then I can take you to the Terrace. I have a relationship with the doorman, and he’ll get you into the casino.”
Scantily clad girls lingered on sofas and tufted chairs in the main living room. A radio played jazz music from a stand in the corner. A scatter of men drank bootlegged alcohol and flirted with the girls. Ace and I were shown to a parlor off the main room.
“Stella, there’s a man here to see you,” the brunette said as she followed us into the main room. “Said you were old friends. I put him upstairs.”
Stella huffed and told the brunette she didn’t have time for an appointment. She mumbled something about short and sweet to the girl, turned on her heel and hurried upstairs, leaving Ace and me in the parlor.
I hoped it was a quickie because time was ticking, and I wanted to find Bonnie and Clyde.
The blonde from the porch brought Ace and me each a glass of whiskey. She giggled as Ace thanked her and had a fit over his accent. I sat down on a red velvet sofa and watched the girl flirt with Ace. The girl’s name was Marla. She worked a big smile, huge blue eyes, and a well-developed bust line. I expected her to belt out the chorus of Marilyn Monroe’s “I Wanna Be Loved by You.”
Before Caiyan and I became involved, he might have taken the offer she made Ace. A light kicked on in my head. If Caiyan wanted entry to the casino, maybe he would have come here. Charming one of the girls to help him gain entrance to the casino was in his wheelhouse.
“Marla, have you seen a man with dark hair, green eyes and…” I paused and looked at the men in the main room. They were all older, had paunchy bellies and wedding rings.
“A man who would give a girl a really good time?” I asked Marla.
She placed a finger to her chin. “There was a guy who came in earlier. Easy on the eyes and flashing a hundred-dollar bill.” She frowned. “I didn't get that one. One of the other girls took him upstairs. Too bad, he was a real looker.”
“I thought I was a real looker?” Ace asked Marla.
I rolled my eyes at Ace. He wasn't into women, but he still wanted to be admired by them. Geesh!
Ace shrugged at me.
“Could I have a moment with my fiancé?” I motioned to Marla. “I'm thinking about giving him
a free pass.”
Marla's eye lit up. “Sure, honey.”
Marla went to refill our glasses. “I think Caiyan is here somewhere,” I told Ace. “You distract Marla, and I'm going upstairs to find him.”
“Do you think that's a good idea?” Ace fiddled with the ring on his finger. “When he finds out we are here, he's going to have a hissy fit.”
“Better he knows now than running into us at the casino. Ask Marla to take you upstairs.”
Ace looked at me like a deer in headlights.
“I'm not going upstairs with her. She wants to touch Winston.”
“Who's Winston?”
“You know—my thing.” He waved a hand over his groin area.
“You named your man part Winston?”
“Yes, it's named Winston Churchill because it's short, fat, excellent at forging alliances, and never, never, never gives up.”
I flinched. This conversation divulged way more information than I needed to know.
“Too much?” Ace asked.
“A bit,” I said. “Go upstairs and see what you can find out. You can ditch the hooker when you obtain the info.”
“Who died and put you in charge?” he huffed.
“I'm going to search for Caiyan. Meet me back downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
He clicked his heels together and gave me a forward hand salute as Marla returned with our whiskey. She looked concerned at Ace's gesture. I wanted to tell her she had a few more years until she would need to worry about it, but I bit my tongue. I wasn’t messing with the future, I reminded myself.
Ace and I clinked glasses, and I threw back the watered-down alcohol.
“My lovey-dovey has given me permission to escort you upstairs for a night of romping,” Ace said to Marla. “She's a little timid in the bedroom.”
I frowned at the last words.
“Ooh.” Marla cooed, giving me a sympathetic glance as she pulled Ace toward the stairs.
“You owe me.” Ace mouthed the words to me, as Marla led him away.