Part 23 (1/2)
”Who was that?” Fearless asked.
”You in this with me now, aren't you, Fearless?”
”Yeah, Paris. You know it, man. You my boy.”
”There's money here,” I said. ”Mr. Wexler plus BB is twenty thousand right there. Now Miss Fine might even be more than that. But I don't like all these other people involved.”
”People come and go, Paris. They come and go. But you'n me be right here, baby. Don't you worry 'bout that.”
His certainty almost made me confident.
I felt bad about the Wexler murders. Life is a precious thing. But they were dead and I didn't know why. Maybe, if I found out what Kit had done to Miss Fine, I could solve the crime and retire too.
THE GATE TO THE FINE RESIDENCE was open when we got there. Oscar was waiting at the door by the time we reached the desolate front yard. was open when we got there. Oscar was waiting at the door by the time we reached the desolate front yard.
”Mr. Minton,” he said. ”Miss Fine is waiting for you in the study.”
”Bring us to her,” I said in a confident voice.
”Your friend will have to stay here,” he informed me.
”The h.e.l.l he will.”
”Miss Fine is only expecting you.”
Rose Fine, wearing a white satin gown and elbow-length black gloves, peeked around a corner down the hall from us. She snorted, then giggled and disappeared behind a pile of bound files.
”You tell Miss Fine that I'm here with my fellow investigator-Fearless Jones. If she wants to hear what I have to say, then she will have to talk to both of us.”
Oscar was stuck. I had called him on his personal phone. He knew something was wrong and whatever it was it was bad news for him. If it was his house he would have ushered us out of the door and gone to hide under the bed.
But it wasn't his house.
He turned and walked through a scuffed-up lime-colored door. When he was gone Rose Fine poked her head out again.
”h.e.l.lo, Miss Fine,” I said.
”Do I know you gentlemen?” she asked me.
”Sure you do. Don't you remember? I sat on the wood bench and you took the barber's chair. Oscar got you a shot of whiskey.”M ”He wasn't here, though,” she said, referring to Fearless.
”This is my friend. His name is Fearless. We're doing something for your sister.”
”What?”
”Lookin' for a boy name of Bartholomew.”
”Perry?”
”That's him. You know him?”
”Him and father-Esau. Bad relations is what I calls 'em. Definitely the colored side of the family.”
”You don't like 'em?”
”They family so I have to put up with 'em on Christmas and Easter, but other than them days I wouldn't let them into my outhouse.”
I liked her candor even if she was mad.
”What about a young woman named Leora Hartman?”
”Leora,” Rose said. She grinned, showing us that she'd lost more teeth than she'd kept. ”She's a feather bed in G.o.d's sanctuary.”
”You know her?”
”Know her? She's my little girl. My baby.”
”Your daughter?” I asked, surprised and a little confounded.
If Leora belonged to Rose, then the connection to the house was even stronger than it had seemed. Maybe I should have spent a little more time talking to the demure colored woman.
Rose didn't have many teeth but her hearing was better than mine. She made an unpleasant sound in her throat and darted back down the hall she'd come from. Two seconds after that the scuffed lime door came open.
”Miss Fine will see you both,” Oscar informed us.
”Lead on, my man.”
THE CURTAINS WERE already open when we entered Winifred Lucia Fine's study. Her nude image in the fountain was still attempting the impossible. My heart still skipped at the beauty. already open when we entered Winifred Lucia Fine's study. Her nude image in the fountain was still attempting the impossible. My heart still skipped at the beauty.
It struck me that Maestro Wexler's home was much more opulent but somehow the beauty had gotten lost in all the majesty of his residence.
”Fearless Jones,” my friend said, approaching the matriarch and holding out his hand.
I could see that she didn't want to shake, but the pressure of his friendliness got to her and she gave up a weak squeeze.
”Winifred Fine,” she said.
”I had a aunt named Winfred,” Fearless said. ”She lived in Mississippi in a little cabin off'a the Tickle River. Whenever anybody in my family got in trouble they'd go and hide at Aunt Winfred's. The house was built on a overhang and you could stay up under there catchin' and fryin' catfish until the law gave up and you could move on. She'd still be there except for a flood in 'forty-eight. Now she's up around St. Louis. She still gotta bas.e.m.e.nt to hide in, the fis.h.i.+n's not too good though.”
”My name is Winifred, not Winfred,” Miss Fine said.
”She's a good woman,” Fearless agreed.
”I need to ask you some questions, Miss Fine,” I interjected.
”About what?”
”Me and Fearless found your nephew.”
”Where is he?”