Zora said, “She’s quite protective of me.”
“Some would say jealous.”
“That too. I bet you right now she’s wondering how she can stick a knife in your back without anyone noticing.”
Dash took a deep breath. He doubted Zora spoke in exaggerations. “What’s the name of my would-be attacker?”
“Why would you want to know that?”
“Seems polite, under the circumstances.”
Zora broke her gaze from Miss Purple and White and laughed.
“My, my, you are funny, Mr. Parker.” Another drag of her cigarette. “Sonya,” she replied in a cloud of smoke. “Sonya Sanders. Lovely alliteration, don’t you think?”
Dash nodded, glancing back at Zora’s moll. The kittenish smile was gone and replaced by another hateful scowl.
“I can see why if Karl was running from trouble, he wouldn’t be safe with you.”
“Indeed not. Although what trouble would he be running from? An innocent like that couldn’t have been involved in too much.”
“Whatever it was, it required a lawyer. He was friends with—or working with, I can’t quite tell—a white bull named Prudence Meyers.”
“A woman lawyer? Now that just makes her more delicious.”
Dash leaned forward. “You know her?”
Zora shook her head. “I don’t know her, but I have seen her once or twice here. Luscious cream in a suit. I wouldn’t mind adding her to my coffee. She’d often come in with Karl and two other men. The club usually attracts a more male audience, which I find tiresome, but I do love Jimmie’s voice. When she walked in, I took immediate notice.”
“Did you speak with her at all?”
“A lady never kisses and tells.”
Zora was enjoying toying with him. Dash couldn’t decipher whether she was lying or simply stringing him along.
Sensing his frustration, she said, “Oh my, someone remains impatient. You want answers so badly, don’t you, Mr. Parker? Perhaps if you grieved for the German boy you wanted but couldn’t have, you might find some peace.”
He ignored her comment. “Karl mentioned that Prudence Meyers’s plan didn’t work. Do you have any idea what that was about? Did you ever overhear something about a plan in their conversations?”
Zora clicked her tongue against her teeth. Tisk, tisk, tisk. “Eavesdropping is very unbecoming in people of our stature, Mr. Parker. I can say they seemed to speak with great earnestness, almost as if she was trying to convince the little boy to do something.”
“Karl?”
“No, the other one.”
Dash said the only other name he could think of. “Tyler Smith?”
“That’s the one.”
So Tyler had lied to Dash and Joe after all about not knowing Pru and Karl’s other friends. “When was this?”
Zora looked up to the ceiling in thought. “I want to say . . . last Saturday? To be honest, all my days and nights blur together.”
Dash was barely able to contain his excitement. “Did you ever see a female impersonator with them? Tall, dark hair. Prefers dresses with fringe and sparkle. Possibly going by the name Miss Avery.”
Zora’s grin was wicked. “Mr. Parker, you just described nearly every queen in the city. But no. I never saw one with them.”
Damn. Still, Dash had established connections between Karl Müller, Tyler Smith, and Prudence Meyers. Were Karl and Tyler working with Pru on her case? Or were they her clients?
“No matter,” Dash said. “I intend to ask Tyler Smith later what’s really going on.”
Zora watched him carefully. “Come again?”
“Mr. Smith. I met him yesterday morning. He claimed he didn’t know Pru or any other of Karl’s friends, but according to you, he knows them quite well. A few of them at any rate.” Dash clapped his hands together. “The little grifter. I can’t believe he thought he’d get away with that lie. Isn’t it amazing what people think they can get away with?”
Zora’s gaze was filled with dark amusement. “Hmm,” she purred.
Dash’s triumph was short-lived. Something was off. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she replied.
An awkward smile. “It must be something. You seem amused.”
Her brows arched. “Among your obvious intelligence and skills, you didn’t tell me you were also a spiritualist. I find that particular talent to be so very interesting.”
“A spiritualist? What do you mean?”
“You do know what a spiritualist is, don’t you? Someone who communes with the spirit world.”
“Yes, I know what they are, but why would you suggest I am one?”
Zora puffed a perfect oval of smoke into the air. “Because, my dear, Tyler Smith is dead and has been since Monday night.”
19
Dash stared at her, slow in comprehending.
“Dead?”
Zora relished giving this news. “As the proverbial doornail.”
Dash shook his head, trying to comprehend this new bit of news. Dead? “When was this again? When he died, I mean.”
“His body was found Monday night, wrapped in a sheet in the alleyway behind the Shelton Hotel. Apparently, the poor man was bludgeoned to death by an ashtray, placed in a laundry cart, and wheeled out back.”
The shards of glass and crumbs of ash on the rug I stepped on . . . the red wine stain in the corner . . .
Dash asked, “How do you know this?”
Zora smiled. “I have my sources.”
“Wait a moment. Just wait a moment.” Dash shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “You said Monday night? Are you sure? Because just yesterday morning, Tuesday, I was talking with Tyler Smith in his own hotel room.”
“Like I said, you must be a spiritualist.”
“This can’t be,” Dash said, more to himself than to Zora. His eyes stared down at the table, as if the answer could be found on the cheap wooden surface. “He was there. He had pointed a gun at us, and then poured us cocktails. He spoke to us. Unless . . .”
He looked up at Zora.
“What does Tyler Smith look like?”
“I thought you met him?”
“I thought so as well, but I may have met an imposter.”
“A lot of those running around the city. Tyler Smith is—or was, I should say—on the short side, a little round. Balding, though he wore a ghastly toupee. Vain little man, but very charming. Of course, money does
