Deena nodded toward the kitchen. “Miss Lula did. She’s been here since they integrated the place. They moved her over from Buttermilk.”
“Why does she think we’re going to arrest her?”
“Because you’re white and you have a badge.”
Evelyn mumbled, “That’s never impressed anybody before.”
Miss Lula was back. She had taken off her hat, revealing a shock of white hair. The china cups and saucers on her silver tray rattled as she brought the set into the living room. Instinctively, Amanda stood to help. The tray was heavy. She lowered it to the coffee table. Deena relinquished her chair to the old woman. It was a neat trick. Deena carefully smoothed down the back of her pants, probably checking for insects. A roach traveled across the wall behind her. Deena shuddered.
“Would you ladies like some cookies?” Miss Lula offered. Her voice was unexpectedly refined. There was almost the tinge of an English accent to it, like Lena Horne’s.
Evelyn answered, “Thank you, no. We’ve just had supper.” She reached toward the teapot. “May I?”
Miss Lula nodded. Amanda watched Evelyn pour four cups of tea. It was the strangest thing she’d ever been a part of. Amanda had never been a guest in a black person’s home. Usually, the point of her visit was to get in and get out as quickly as possible. She felt as if she was in one of those Carol Burnett sketches that was trying for social commentary rather than humor.
Deena said, “Miss Lula used to be a teacher at the Negro school off Benson.”
Amanda offered, “My mother was a teacher. Elementary school.”
“That was my field as well,” Miss Lula answered. She took the cup and saucer Evelyn offered. Her hands were old, the knuckles swollen. There was a slight ash tone. She pursed her lips and blew on the tea to cool it.
Evelyn served Deena next, then Amanda.
“Thank you.” Amanda could feel the heat through the china, but she drank the scalding tea anyway, hoping the caffeine would help chase away the wine.
She looked up at the photos of Kennedy facing King, again taking in the orderly apartment that Miss Lula called home.
When Amanda had worked patrol, some of the men made a game of terrorizing these old people. They’d roll their cruisers up behind them in the street and purposefully backfire the car. Grocery bags were dropped. Hands flew into the air. Most of them would fall to the ground. The backfire sounded like a gunshot.
“Now.” Deena had waited until they’d all had some tea. “Miss Lula, if you could tell these women what you told me?”
The old woman cast down her eyes again. She was obviously troubled. “I heard a commotion in the back.”
Amanda realized the woman’s apartment faced the rear of the complex. It was the same area where Jane Delray had been found three days ago.
Miss Lula continued, “I peered out the window and saw the girl just lying there. She had obviously passed.” She shook her head. “Terrible sight. No matter their sins, no one deserves that.”
Evelyn asked, “Was there anyone else back there?”
“Not as far as I could tell.”
“Do you know what the noise was? The one that made you look out the window?”
“Perhaps it was the rear door banging open?” She didn’t seem sure, though she nodded as if that was the only explanation that made sense.
Amanda asked, “Have you noticed anyone strange hanging around?”
“No more so than usual. Most of these girls had evening visitors. They generally came in through the back door.”
That would make sense. None of the men probably wanted to be seen. Amanda asked, “Did you recognize the girl you saw out back?”
“She’s from the top floor. I don’t know her name. But I said from the beginning that they should not have been allowed to live here.”
Deena supplied, “Because they’re prostitutes, not because they’re white.”
Miss Lula said, “They were operating their business out of the apartment. That is contrary to the housing laws.”
Evelyn put down her cup of tea. “Did you see any of their customers?”
“Occasionally. As I said, they mostly used the back door. Especially the white men.”
“They saw both white and black men?”
“Frequently one after the other.”
They were all silent as they considered the statement.
Evelyn asked, “How many women were living up there?”
“At first it was the young one. She said her name was Kitty. She seemed nice enough. She gave candy to some of the children, which was allowed until we realized what she was doing up there.”
“And then?” Amanda asked.
“And then another woman moved in. This was at least a year and a half ago, mind you. The second girl was white, too. Looked very similar to Kitty. I never got her name. Her visitors were not as discreet.”
“Is that the woman you saw through your window tonight? Kitty?”
“No, a third one. I’ve not seen Kitty in a while. Nor have I seen the second one in some time. These girls are very transitory.” She paused, then added, “Lord help them. It’s a difficult path they’ve chosen.”
Amanda remembered the licenses she’d tucked into her purse. She unzipped her bag and pulled them out. “Do you recognize any of these girls?”
The old woman took the licenses. Her reading glasses were neatly folded on the side table, resting atop a well-read Bible. They all watched as she unfolded the glasses, slid them onto her face. Carefully, Miss Lula studied each license, giving each girl her undivided attention. “This one,” she said, holding out the license for Kathryn Treadwell. “This is Kitty, but I assume you know that by her name.”
Amanda said, “We’ve been led to believe that Kitty was renting out the space to other girls.”
“Yes, that would make sense.”
“Did you ever talk to her?”
“Once. She seemed to think very highly of herself. Apparently, her father is very politically connected.”
“She said that to you?” Evelyn asked. “Kitty told you who her father was?”
“Not in so many words, but yes. She made it clear she didn’t really belong here. But then, do any of us?”
Amanda couldn’t answer the question. “Do the other girls look familiar?”
The woman scanned the license again. She held up Jane Delray’s. “The quality of men changed quite a bit for this one. She was not as discriminating as—” She held up Mary Halston’s photo. “This one had a lot of repeat customers, though I would not call them gentlemen. She’s the girl out back.” She read the name. “Donna Mary Halston. Such a pretty name considering the things she did.”
Amanda heard Evelyn suck in her breath. They were both thinking of the same question. Amanda asked, “You said Mary had repeat business?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Did you ever see a white man who was about six feet tall, sandy blond hair, long sideburns, wearing a sharply tailored suit, probably in some shade of blue?”
Miss Lula glanced at Deena. When she handed back the licenses to Amanda, her expression was blank. “I’ll have to think on that. Let me get back to you tomorrow.”
Amanda felt her brow furrow. Either the wine was wearing off or the tea was kicking in. Miss Lula’s apartment was at the end of the hallway. It was at least ten yards from the stairwell, even farther from the back door. Unless the old woman spent her days sitting behind the building, there was no way she could note the comings and goings of the girls or their visitors.
Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but Deena interrupted her.
“Miss Lula,” she said. “We appreciate your time. You’ve got my number. Get back to me on that question.” She put her saucer down on the tray. When Evelyn and Amanda didn’t move, she grabbed their teacups and placed them beside hers. “We can let ourselves out.” She did everything but clap her hands to get them moving.
Amanda led the way, clutching her purse to her chest. She was going to turn to say goodbye, but Deena
