Evelyn’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Is it just me, or does everyone lie to us?”
“They lie to the men, too. No one tells you the truth if you have a badge.”
“Well, I suppose we should tell Betty Friedan we’ve finally achieved some parity.”
Amanda smiled.
“We should talk to the soup kitchen guy, too.”
“We still don’t know who Butch’s CI is. Someone at Techwood identified Jane Delray as Lucy Bennett.”
Evelyn took a clean sheet of paper out of her desk drawer. “Okay, first thing tomorrow: Union Mission, then the soup kitchen, then Techwood to show around the photographs of the girls. Do you think we could sneak a picture of Hank Bennett?” She tapped her pen on the desk. “I know a gal over at the driver’s license bureau. I bet we can get his photograph that way.”
Amanda looked at her friend. She was showing the same mixture of excitement and purpose that Amanda had felt all week. Something about working this case made them forget the danger involved. She said, “Two people warned me off this today.”
“Landry?”
“Three, then. Holly Scott and Deena Coolidge. They both told me that I was crazy to be doing this.”
Evelyn chewed her lip. She didn’t have to say that the women were right.
Amanda asked, “Are we really going to keep doing this?”
Evelyn stared back at her rather than respond. They both knew that they should stop. They both knew what was on the line. Not just their jobs. Their lives. Their futures. If they were fired from the police force, no one else would hire them. They would be pariahs.
“Girls!” Bill Mitchell called. “Supper’s on.”
Evelyn stood up. She squeezed Amanda’s hand. “Pretend it’s wonderful, whatever it is.”
Amanda didn’t know whether Evelyn was referring to Bill’s supper or the mess they were getting themselves into. Either way, she couldn’t help but feel admiration as she followed the other woman into the hallway. Evelyn was either the most upbeat person the world had ever offered or the most delusional.
“Ladies.” Kenny was standing beside the hi-fi with a record in his hands. “What’s your pleasure?”
Evelyn smiled back at Amanda as she headed toward the kitchen, leaving her to answer the question.
Kenny suggested, “Skynyrd? Allman Brothers? Clapton?”
Amanda figured she might as well get this out of the way. “I’m sorry to say I’m more Sinatra.”
“Do you know that I saw him at Madison Square Garden last year?” Kenny smiled at her surprise. “I flew up to New York just to see the show. I was three rows back. He came into the ring like a champ and belted on for hours.” Kenny thumbed through the record collection. “Here you go. I let Bill borrow this six months ago. I doubt he’s even looked at it.” Kenny showed her the record sleeve.
Bill called, “Dinner’s getting cold.”
Amanda waited for Kenny to put on the record. The overture played softly through the speakers. Kenny held out his arm and escorted her to the dining room. Evelyn was sitting in her husband’s lap. He patted her bottom. She kissed him before getting up. “Amanda, the wine is lovely.” She took a hefty sip from her glass. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I’m glad it’s palatable. I had a feeling the man at the store was misleading me.”
“I’m sure you’re an excellent sommelier.” Kenny pulled out a chair. Amanda sat down, letting her purse slide to the floor. Kenny’s hand brushed across her shoulder before he sat down opposite his brother.
Amanda held her wineglass to her mouth as she exhaled a breath of air between her lips.
Bill asked, “What were you two gals up to? Should I be worried you’re going to wallpaper the house with construction paper?”
“Maybe.” Evelyn raised an eyebrow as she took another sip of wine. “We’ve got this case that’s probably going to get us both fired.”
“More time with my gal,” Bill exclaimed. He hardly seemed worried as he stabbed a dry-looking piece of roast and put it on her plate. “Have you been mouthing off or making trouble?” He forked another piece of roast for Amanda. “Or both?”
Evelyn said, “We’re likely going to get a black man out of jail.”
Kenny laughed. “Making friends wherever you go.”
“No kidding.” Evelyn finished her glass of wine. “This particular fella is called Juice.”
“Like the football player?” Bill topped off Amanda’s glass, then refilled Evelyn’s. “Rushed for seventeen hundred yards in ’68.”
“Seventeen hundred
“To football.” Bill raised his glass.
“Hear, hear.” Kenny followed suit. They clinked their glasses in a toast. Amanda felt a warmth spread through her body. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until the wine made her relax.
Evelyn said, “The non-football Juice seems to have a crush on Amanda.” She winked across the table. “Says she’s a fine-lookin’ woman.”
“A very astute man.” Kenny winked at Amanda, too. She took a large drink of wine to cover her embarrassment.
“He’s a pimp,” Evelyn said. “We met him at Techwood Homes last week.”
Amanda felt her heart lurch in her chest, but Evelyn kept talking.
“He runs white women.”
“My favorite kind.” Bill refilled Amanda’s glass. She hadn’t realized she’d finished the first one already. Amanda looked down at the food on her plate. The vegetables had obviously been frozen. The meat was overcooked. Even the roll was burned around the edges.
“This prostitute, Jane—” Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Her apartment was not what you’d call tidy. What was it you said, Amanda? ‘I’ll look for back copies of
The men laughed, and Evelyn continued the story. “She was an absolute terror to deal with.”
Amanda sipped from her wineglass, which she kept pressed to her chest as she listened to Evelyn talk about the Techwood apartment, the mouthy whore. They all laughed when she mimicked Jane Delray’s trashy accent. There was something about the way Evelyn told the story that made it sound funny instead of frightening. She could be relaying the plot of a television sitcom where two plucky gals stick their noses where they don’t belong and end up escaping through wit and humor.
“Exit, stage left,” Amanda said.
They all laughed, though Evelyn’s smile wasn’t quite as genuine. She tugged at the back of her hair.
Bill reached out and affectionately slapped away her hand. “You’re going to snatch yourself bald.”
Amanda asked, “Was it hard getting your hair cut?”
Evelyn shrugged. Obviously, it had been, but she said, “After Zeke, I didn’t have time for it.”
The wine had made Amanda brazen. She asked Bill, “Did you mind?”
He took Evelyn’s hand. “Anything that makes my girl happy.”
“I cried for at least an hour.” Evelyn laughed, though her heart wasn’t into it.
“I think it was closer to six,” Bill said. “But I like it.”
“It’s very stylish,” Kenny offered. “But long is nice, too.”
Amanda patted the back of her hair. She was worse than Evelyn.
“Why don’t you let it down?” The request came from Kenny. Amanda was both surprised and deeply embarrassed. She was also dangerously close to complete inebriation, which was probably why she complied with the request.
Amanda silently counted out the bobby pins as she pulled them from her hair. Five, six, seven. There were eight total, plus the hair spray, which made her fingers sticky as she ran them through her hair. It draped to the middle of her back. Amanda cut the ends once a year. She only kept it down in the winter, and then only at night when she was alone.
Evelyn sighed. “You’re so pretty.”
Amanda finished her wine. She was already dizzy. She should at least eat a dinner roll to absorb some of the alcohol, but she didn’t want to hear the sound of her own chewing. The room was quiet except for the record playing. Sinatra singing “Autumn in New York.”
