She grinned flirtatiously.
“I’m not only in the business of animalistic tendencies, Mr. Parker, lest you think I’m completely debaucherous. Like I said before, I learned about human nature. It’s true, we all give in to desire. We also have a want—no, a need— to be forgiven. To be made pure. To start anew.”
“Salvation,” Dash said. “How do you sell that? You own churches?”
Zora laughed. “Not quite, though I do have a preacher or two in my pocket. I have shares in certain facilities, which specialize in rehabilitation. From booze. From sex. From inversion.”
Dash looked at her with horror. “You’re an invert yourself! How can you—”
“Because it’s damn good sugar.” Her eyes were no longer warm and seductive, but cold, black coals. “Listen, my pretty, there’s only one thing that matters in this life, and that’s money. Not because of the things it can buy, but because of the freedom it can get you. Money is freedom. Make no mistake about that.”
“Money is the root of all evil,” Dash replied.
“Quoting Timothy, are we? And it’s for the love of money. Money itself is neither good nor bad.”
Zora leaned forward, her manner intense.
“I’m a single black woman, Mr. Parker. You think if I didn’t have piles of sugar, I’d be free to walk around and do what I want? Say what I want? Have whoever I want?” She shook her head. “I’d be married to some man who may, or may not, hit me across the mouth if I say something smart. Popping out babies and scrubbing floorboards. No allowance ’cause my man don’t want me outta the house. Let’s not forget that south of Harlem, I’d be somebody’s maid. Trapped in a life of yes, missus and no, missus and I’ll get right to it, missus. Well, no sir. I refuse to be caged and I refuse to be tamed.”
She leaned back in her chair, pausing to pull out a cigarette from her bag and light it, one of those long ones that required a special holder. The activity of preparing her smoke as well as the nicotine itself dissipated the tension that was mounting at her table.
Once she finished the inaugural puff, she said, “I grant you, some of what I do may be distasteful. It’s a messy means to a most gorgeous end.”
“How Machiavellian,” Dash replied.
Zora gestured towards him with her smoldering cigarette, her manner once again flirtatious. “An educated one. You certainly fit right in here, Mr. Parker. Would you like me to find a gentleman who can match you wit for wit? Oh, I forgot.”
She then picked up the photograph of Karl and placed it against her breast.
“You already have one. Can I keep this? I know it may be hard for you to part with it, but in case I stumble upon him and need to remind myself what he looks like.”
Dash shrugged. “You can keep it. It won’t do you much good. The boy is dead. Someone killed him Sunday night. Strangled him in Central Park.”
Zora held his gaze for a few seconds. “I see. That’s the bad news. I thought you were simply chasing after him. Well. I would say thank you for the information, but I suspect you’re here for other reasons.”
“I’m talking with people he might have run to that night.”
Her manner was dismissive. “What makes you think he would run to me?”
“He was very keen on getting out. Changing his name, starting a new life. He was fleeing from something, or someone. You’re a powerful woman, as you’ve said. If anyone could get him out of a bad situation, it would be you.”
Her voice came out flat. “I don’t take in strays.”
“He mentioned that. How did Karl Müller come to work for you, anyway? If you don’t mind my saying so, it seems like such an incongruous match.”
Zora took a deep, long drag of her cigarette. “He attended one of my pleasure parties. One of my mixed-race ones. He stood out like a sore thumb, poor boy. What he saw widened his eyes.” She chuckled. “Men and women everywhere, mostly unclothed, watching and exploring. I believe when he saw one of my boys take a lover on the dining room table, he rushed outside. Curious, I followed him.
“He was smoking a cigarette and shaking, though it wasn’t cold out. I said to him, ‘Did you like what you saw?’ He took his time answering, because we both knew the answer was Yes. Then I said, ‘Do you want to join in the festivities?’ He shook his head. ‘Shame, you might enjoy it.’ He replied, ‘I know other boys who would enjoy it more thoroughly than I.’ By the next week, he was advertising for me.”
“Who bought him to the party?”
“I have no idea and I never asked him.”
“Was he a good employee?”
“He was effective. My patronship went up. He was clever too. I didn’t have to explain my color system more than once.”
“Color system?”
“Rent parties are in black folks’ homes, Mr. Parker. Not everyone is as accommodating of downtowners as I am.” She tapped the blue card advertising her upcoming party. “See this? Blue means whites are welcome. Red means blacks only. Green means whites only. Savvy?”
“You seem to think of everything.”
She smiled. “I do indeed.”
“And Karl didn’t come here Sunday night?”
She shook her head. “And even if he had, I wouldn’t have taken him in. My lady wouldn’t appreciate it.”
Zora turned and looked back at Miss Purple and White, who was still sitting at the bar. She was watching them intently. Had she been there staring at them the entire time? Her angry glare at Dash immediately changed to a kittenish smile towards Zora. The change in expression was
