She recognized him. “Mr. . . . Parker, is it?”
He turned on his most charming smile. The practiced flashing of teeth he once used daily when he lived among the upper crust. Where manners—or the appearance of manners—was more important than the morality they supposedly upheld.
“Miss Zora Mae, so lovely to see you again.”
He took her hand and gently brushed his lips against her knuckles. Honeysuckle perfume, light and airy, tickled his nose.
El sang:
Now if you run into a five foot two covered in fur
Diamond rings and all those things, bet your life it isn’t her
But could she love, could she woo?
Could she, could she, could she coo?
Has anybody seen my girl?
“You certainly know how to treat a lady,” she said.
“Are ladies treated any other way?”
An eyebrow arched. “You’d be surprised how ladies are treated most of the time. Tell me, Mr. Parker, how are you enjoying my little soirée?”
Dash looked around, taking in the surroundings. “The most elaborate soirée I’ve ever seen.”
Zora swelled with pride. “Yes,” she said, “this one is a special occasion. Definitely one of my most literate parties. I was re-reading a copy of the Inferno I stole from a library back in my youth —a whites-only library—when the idea just came to me.”
“It is ingenious.”
“Come now. I know you may not have much experience with the opposite sex, but unlike men, a lady doesn’t need to be constantly flattered. We’re not quite as desperate for the validation. Just a sprinkle of compliments will do.”
Dash acknowledged the admonishment with a slight nod. “I must say, though, I’m a little surprised by Hell. It’s not quite what I thought it’d be.”
“It never is. Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, tell me why you are here. Oh. I remember now. Your friend. The little German boy who got himself strangled. Did you find any of his enemies?”
Love made him a lunatic
Gee! he hollered and cried
Like a monkey on a stick
He was fit to be tied
“A few, actually,” Dash replied. “In fact, I may be looking at one.”
It took her a moment to understand what he was intimating. Her voice dropped to a low growl. “Are you threatening me?”
“I would never. I can’t say the same for Walter Müller and his blackmail of you. Or rather, of Sonya.”
When we asked him for his wife’s description
He just answered all of us with this conniption
Five foot two…
As if saying her name conjured her, Sonya Sanders appeared in the back of the room. It was too dark to read her expression, for which Dash was grateful. If he saw what he expected to see, he would be frightened out of his wits.
Zora noticed her and gave a little wave, then she gestured to a far-off corner. “Let’s talk.”
They sat in an alcove on a red velvet love seat just off to the side of the bar. The seat was designed for snuggling, though that was the last thing Dash or Zora had in mind.
“I take it you know about the Müllers little setup?” Zora said.
“I can quote chapter and verse. Tell me about Sonya.”
She considered her response. “She was arrested. Simple as that. At the Au Lait. A case of bad timing.”
“And you received a letter?”
“I did. Bring the money to the House Beautiful—the Lafayette Theatre—on 132nd and Seventh, sit in the back row to the left, and leave the money in an envelope underneath. Then get up and leave before the show finishes.”
His hunch was confirmed. “Miss Mae, did your blackmail letter state who it was the sender?”
She shook her head.
“And when did you learn the Müllers’ identity? Before or after Karl started working for you?”
“After, of course. Do you honestly think I’d have let him anywhere near me or my girl if I knew what he’d done?”
They both looked out from the booth. Sonya still stood against the back wall, her eyes watchful, her face full of anger, her hands in fists at her sides.
Keeping an eye on her, Dash said, “Miss Mae, did you kill Karl?”
A mirthful laugh. “I credit you for bravery, Mr. Parker. Not many men would be as forward to me as you are now.”
Dash nodded towards Sonya. “Did she?”
“I don’t watch her every second of every day.”
They turned away from Sonya and looked into each other’s eyes.
Zora said, “We have the motive, I admit. No one threatens my people and gets away with it. The fact that Karl was being used by Walter to raid black clubs, well, sometimes retribution is the only answer.”
Dash swallowed a lump of fear in his throat. “Did you kill him?” he asked again.
“We have the means as well. I never like getting my hands dirty, but my girl? She derives a distinct satisfaction from the physicality of violence.” She held up a pointer finger. “But—and this is important, Mr. Parker—where is the opportunity?”
She sat back against the booth, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “We didn’t even know that traitorous little worm was up here until you came to visit me at the Hot Cha.”
“Someone at the Oyster House could’ve told you.”
“Who?”
Dash shrugged. “Any of them. In the audience, at the bar, behind the bar. I’m sure you have operatives all over Harlem. Maybe one of them recognized him and told you.”
“You’re reaching, Mr. Parker.”
“Perhaps I am. And even if you did kill him, you’d never tell me, would you?”
Her eyes glittered. “Do you remember when I gave you the address of Mr. Paul Avery? And when I gave it to you, I said it was in exchange for a favor?”
He regarded her warily. “What is the favor?”
“Don’t look so glum. I suspect we’ll both get enjoyment out of it.” She paused. “I want you to kill Walter Müller.”
Dash’s eyes widened. “You
