Blackberry Pie Murder (30 page)

“Oh.” Delores was silent for a moment. “Would it help if I changed shoes?”

Hannah glanced at her mother’s shoes. They were perfectly plain, but quite obviously expensive black flats. “No, but I would lose the watch and the bracelet.”

“But what shall I do with them?”

“Put them in your purse. We’re not going to take our purses anyway. We’ll give them to the officers in the van to watch.”

“But what if I need my credit card?”

“You can’t use it, anyway. We’re going by fake names, remember?”

“Of course. You’re right, dear. But what shall we do for money?”

“I’ve got cash in my pocket.”

Delores considered that for a moment. “That’s probably wisest, considering the neighborhood. It’s certainly not very . . .

genteel.”

Hannah was about to laugh at what she thought was an attempt at humor on her mother’s part, but then she noticed BLACKBERRY PIE MURDER

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that Delores was shivering slightly. The temperature inside the car was on the warm side since the air-conditioning wasn’t all that efficient. Why was Delores shivering if she wasn’t cold?

Reality dawned for Hannah and she came very close to gasping in surprise. Coming here was completely out of her mother’s sphere. Delores had lived in Lake Eden all her life and she’d always been surrounded by family and friends. She knew about the homeless, and drug dealers, and gangs. You couldn’t live in the world of today without hearing about the underbelly of society, but experiencing it firsthand was another matter entirely.

“Why don’t you stay with the officers, Mother?” Hannah said, doing her best to sound convincing. “I can take care of this interview myself.”

Delores squared her shoulders. “No, dear. I’m going with you. It’s just as I told you last night. I can help and I want to do it.”

“But you won’t be much help if you’re scared to death,”

Hannah said. The words hung in the air just long enough to make Hannah wish she’d phrased her comment more tact-fully. “What I mean is . . .” she started to say, but her mother interrupted her.

“I know what you mean,” Delores said, reaching out to pat Hannah’s arm. “You think that I’ll be more of a liability than an asset. But that won’t happen, Hannah. You’ll see. I have a plan and I’m determined to go with you. I refuse to argue about it, so let’s just drop the subject and concentrate on what we came here to do.”

There was steel in those carefully chosen words, and Hannah recognized it. Her mother was indeed determined and Hannah could do nothing to change her mind. “All right, Mother,” she said, giving in as gracefully as she could.

And then, before the situation could grow even more uncomfortable, the green van pulled up beside them and the passenger window lowered.

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“Hi,” Hannah said, reaching in the back to retrieve the bakery boxes and handing one through the open window.

“These are for you. Thanks for being here for us.”

“What’s in there?” the driver leaned over to ask her.

“Something called Butterscotch Brickle Bar Cookies.

They’ve got chocolate and butterscotch.”

“Hey, thanks!” the officer in the passenger seat said. “You got a live one out there. Bleached blonde, red dress, black boots. Name’s Starlet.”

“Scarlet?” Hannah asked.

“No, Starlet. Like a movie
star
.”

“Oh. Okay. Starlet.”

“She’s real young. Maybe sixteen. We picked her up a couple of months ago, and her pimp bailed her out. That one was a piece of work!”

“Starlet is a piece of work?” Delores asked him.

“No, the pimp. At least
he’s
gone. And good riddance.”

Hannah wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing. The officer obviously didn’t know that she was the one who’d killed Starlet’s pimp.

“Did someone else take his place?” Delores asked.

“ ’Course they did. This new one’s a woman. We hear she’s one nasty . . .” he stopped, obviously considering the fact that he was talking to a genuine lady. “One nasty you-know-what,” he finished. “Name’s Lady Die.”

“Like Princess Di?” Delores asked.

“No. It’s Lady Die, like in make you dead. Which one of you is going to talk to Starlet?”

“Both of us are,” Delores answered before Hannah could even open her mouth. “Where’s Starlet now?”

“Around the corner and a block up. We’ll stay here with the windows rolled down. Did Mike give you that whistle to blow?”

“I’ve got it,” Hannah said, patting her pocket. “Will you take our purses with you?”

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“Sure thing.” He grabbed the two purses Hannah handed him. “How about that sack in the back? Anything valuable in there?”

“Just a couple of sandwiches.”

“Want us to take them? Somebody could get ’em if you leave ’em back there. Most people around here can break into a locked car in thirty seconds flat and eat your lunch.”

“More power to them,” Delores said, sotto-voce. Hannah turned to grin at her and then she turned back to answer.

“That’s okay. They probably need them more than we do and we’re going to stop for something to eat on the way home anyway.”

“Hi there.” Delores walked right up to the smiling girl in the red dress who had struck a sexy pose on the street corner.

“I hope you’re doing what I think you’re doing.”

Hannah came close to groaning. Whatever was her mother doing?!

“What’cha think I’m doing, Church Lady?” Starlet asked, never losing her smile.

“I’m hoping you’re soliciting on this corner. And I’m not a church lady. I’m a romance writer.”

Starlet’s smile slipped slightly. “You’re a . . . what?”

“I’m a romance writer and I write Regency romances.

That’s why I need to interview an opera girl.”

Starlet gave a derisive laugh. “Then you’re out of luck! All we got around here are pimps, Johns, and pieces like me!”

“Not opera, dear,” Delores said sweetly. “Opera
girl
. And you just said that was what you were.”

Starlet’s smile slipped all the way and she suddenly looked young and almost naïve. “Opera girl, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t ask ’cause I’m probably talking to a wack job here, but what’s this opera girl thing?”

“That’s the name they gave to ladies of the night in Regency England.”

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Hannah watched Starlet’s face. She was beginning to look a bit curious. Perhaps her mother’s approach wasn’t a mistake, after all.

“Where’s Regents England?”

Hannah held her breath. Here’s where Delores could blow it. If she corrected Starlet, her curiosity might disappear to the point where she’d tell them to get lost, that they were hurting her business.

“It’s England, the same England that the Beatles came from.”

“Oh, yeah. But the Beatles were a long time ago.”

“I know. And Regency England was even longer ago than the Beatles.”

“You mean like ancient history?” Starlet asked, clearly fascinated now.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Delores smiled at her. “I write about romance way back before they even had electric lights. My story is about a prince who falls in love with an opera girl and wants to marry her.”

“Really?” Starlet began to smile. “I like that.” But as Hannah watched, her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Does this book of yours have a happy ending?”

“Oh, my yes! The prince ends up marrying the opera girl and she becomes a princess.”

“Oh, good! I think I might want to read that book. I don’t get time to read much, but that one sounds good.”

“I hope it will be, and that’s why I need your help. I need to know what life is like out here on the street, so I can write my opera girl’s thoughts before she meets and marries the prince.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what it was like on the street way back then. All I know is what it’s like now.”

“That’s good enough for me. I really don’t think it’s changed that much. Do you?”

“Naw! Men are all the same.” Starlet fluffed her hair and put on her concept of an enticing smile at the sole male occu-BLACKBERRY PIE MURDER

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pant of a car as he drove slowly past. “So ask me a question, church lady, but make it fast. I’m working this corner and things are gonna start to pick up soon.”

“I know. I’d like to interview you, and I know I’m cutting into your working day. That’s the reason I want to pay you for your time.”

“You want to
pay
me?” Suddenly Starlet was intensely interested. “How much?”

“Fifty dollars an hour. And if it doesn’t take an hour, you can keep the whole fifty. I really need your advice for my story.”

“Oh! Well! That’s just fine with me! Go ahead. Ask me questions.”

“Not here,” Delores said. “It’s much too noisy. I was thinking of somewhere quieter.”

Hannah held her breath. This was a mistake on her mother’s part. Now Starlet might become suspicious. After all, there were two of them and only one of her.

Starlet’s eyes narrowed. “You mean . . . quiet like in a hotel room?”

“No, dear. I was talking about a coffee shop where we can get something to eat. Or . . . even a bar if it’s quiet this time of day. Do you know any place like that?”

Starlet smiled as she nodded and this time the smile was genuine. “Sure, I do. And that’s okay then.” Starlet turned to give Hannah an assessing look. “Who’s the other one? Is she coming, too? And what’s in that box?”

“Butterscotch Brickle Bar Cookies,” Hannah answered, flipping the top on the box to show her. “Have one. They’re really good.”

Starlet looked suspicious again. “Only if you have one, too.” She turned to Delores. “And you, too.”

“I don’t blame you for being cautious,” Hannah said, taking a bar cookie from the box and biting into it. “These are my absolute favorites. I baked them this morning.” She held out the box to Delores. “Mother?”

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“Mother?” Starlet asked, grabbing a bar cookie the moment Delores had taken a bite of hers.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Delores said. “I forgot to introduce you. My name is Kathryn and this is my daughter, Anne. And what shall Anne and I call you? This interview is completely confidential so we don’t need to know your real name if you don’t want to tell us.”

“Okay. Just call me Starlet. That’s what they all call me, but it’s not my real name.”

“That’s fine with us.”

Starlet turned to Hannah. “You made these, Anne?

They’re as good as a candy bar.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said, smiling at her.

“Where shall we go, Starlet?” Delores asked, getting back to business.

“Little Dingo’s is just down the block. He’ll give us a booth in the back and make sure nobody bothers us. Let me stash those candy bars here, though. The other girls know better than to touch my stuff and Little Dingo won’t let you bring in food. I’ll give ’em back to you later.”

Hannah shook her head. “They’re yours. I brought them for you.”

“Whoa! Thanks, Anne.”

Starlet left her corner and raced off to what looked like a vacant building. She opened the door, ducked in, and came right back out again. There was a huge smile on her face and it was clear that she could scarcely believe her good fortune.

That made Hannah wonder if this was the first time anyone had ever given her anything without expecting something in return.

“Is Little Dingo’s okay with you, Anne?” Starlet asked her.

“It’s fine with me. I’m just along to take notes and check off that list of questions Mother gave me to make sure she doesn’t forget to ask something. I’m acting as Mother’s secretary, but you’re getting paid. I’m not.”

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Starlet laughed. “That’s the breaks, ” she said, and led them down the street.

Less than five minutes later, they were settled in the back circular booth of the grungiest bar Hannah had ever seen in her life. The floor was wavy with the residue of spilled drinks and other fluids of unknown origin that had probably never been mopped up, and the tabletop was sticky with dried sub-stances that Hannah didn’t want to try to identify. The walls were dingy and reeked with an odor that combined cigarette smoke and urine in unequal proportions, and the lighting was almost nonexistent.

“It’s very dark in here,” Delores said, and Hannah noticed that her mother was deliberately not touching the tabletop.

Hannah wasn’t touching it, either. She was too busy wondering whether the whistle Mike had given her would work in here to summon the officers who were waiting for them.

“Yeah, it’s dark,” Starlet said. “Dingo wants it that way.

Some of the guys that come here don’t want to be seen, if you know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Delores said. “Do they serve food here, Starlet?”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t eat it. I know a guy that used to cook here and he told me there were rat traps all over the kitchen. And I know for a fact that the new cook bangs on a pan when he opens the door to scare all the roaches back into hiding. If you want something to eat, you should stick with things in bags like chips or pretzels. And don’t get anything to drink in a glass. Dingo’s got beer and wine in bottles, and that’s okay if you drink it right out of the bottle.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Hannah said. “What do you want to drink, Starlet?”

“Oh, I don’t drink when I’m working. I gotta be on my toes, you know? You got to order something though,” Starlet informed them. “Dingo put us in this special booth and he’ll expect some kind of payment for it. It’s not like he’s renting space here, you know.”

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But I bet he could,
Hannah thought.
And maybe he does.

And that could be why this is called the “special” booth.

“Of course we’ll order something,” Delores said, even though they were the only customers in the bar and it wasn’t like there was a waiting line for the special booth. “Does he have water in bottles?”

Starlet shook her head. “He doesn’t carry anything fancy like that. It’s just beer and wine in the bottles. He waters the hard stuff so don’t ask for that. Besides, then you got to drink it out of one of his glasses and you don’t want to do that.”