The Girl Is Murder (27 page)

Pearl came to our house after lunch to talk about what she should wear to the Savoy. Pop greeted her at the door and told her how much he’d enjoyed talking to her mother. Pearl played along with the same cool conviction she’d shown me when she was sitting with the Rainbows.

“Sorry about that,” I told her when we were safely in my room, away from Pop’s prying ears.

“You should’ve had me call him,” said Pearl. “I do a great imitation of my mother.”

“I didn’t want to make you lie for me.”

She frowned. “But you just did.”

I hadn’t thought about that.

“Should I drink?” asked Pearl.

“At the Savoy? It’s your choice, but I wouldn’t if I were you. In the first place, it’s not like you think it’s going to be.”

She lifted her head, as though to reinforce that she was more mature than I was giving her credit for. “I’ve had Manischewitz at Passover before.”

The overly sweet kosher wine had nothing in common with the hooch Rhona toted around. “Then you’re definitely not ready for real booze.” The truth was, we had no idea how alcohol would affect Pearl and I wanted her at her most present that night, just in case something went terribly wrong.

“What do I do if someone asks me to dance?”

“It’s a ballroom, Pearl. Not a bond drive. You’re going to have to dance.”

“But I don’t know how.”

To reassure her, I put a Glenn Miller platter on the phonograph and showed her the basic moves that I remembered from my trip to the Savoy. I imagine it was a bit like watching Pop dance—stiff, awkward, and more basic than a loaf of white bread—but seeing things broken down into simple steps was what Pearl needed. She’d learn soon enough how complicated dancing could be when people who could really hoof it shared the floor.

At five o’clock we said our farewells to Pop and set out for Pearl’s house. I lugged an overnight bag packed with the skirt and shoes I hadn’t returned to Suze, cosmetics I’d borrowed from Mrs. Mrozenski, and a comic book to keep me occupied on the subway. Once we turned the corner, we parted ways, and I headed to the station. By five-forty-five I was uptown and en route to Grace’s apartment. Fear made me walk too fast and I ended up in front of her building earlier than I wanted to be. I decided to walk around the block to calm myself down. As I passed the park, someone called out my name. I slowed and glanced over my shoulder, dreading which person from my former life I was about to run into. It was Aunt Miriam.

“Iris, is that you?”

It was too late to deny it. I stopped walking and tried to match her smile for smile. “What are you doing here?” I asked. While Uncle Adam and Aunt Miriam lived uptown, their apartment was nowhere near where Grace lived.

“I came with friends to their temple for services. Now I’m bound for home.” And it was still the Sabbath, at least according to the strict laws Miriam followed. That meant no cabs and no subway. She either legged it home or waited until three stars appeared in the sky, lifting the ban on work. I felt guilty for my own easy trip uptown. While she never criticized how Mama and Pop lived, she couldn’t have been happy with how completely they’d abandoned their religion. “The question is, what are you doing here? Is your father with you?”

“I’m staying at a friend’s tonight. Pop’s at home.”

“A Chapin friend?”

I answered right away, such was the power Aunt Miriam still wielded over me. “Yes, Grace Dunwitty.”

“Good for you, Iris. I always liked Grace. You need to keep up with girls like that. That’s where you belong.”

That’s where I belonged? Among thieves and murderers? If only she knew. “I better go. She’s expecting me.” I turned, hoping that was the end of it, but she caught me on the shoulder and wouldn’t let me leave.

“We miss you, you know. You’re always welcome in our home.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I miss you, too. We both do.” I liked Aunt Miriam and I knew deep down Pop did, too. I didn’t want her to take Pop’s decision to cut off from Uncle Adam as a personal slight.

“Your father talks about us?” she asked.

“Sometimes.”

She smiled. The relief was evident in her eyes. “What’s happened between your uncle and your father, it doesn’t have to change things between us. This is your father’s choice, but it doesn’t have to be yours.” She spoke slowly and deliberately, nodding when she completed her sentence, as though she needed my acknowledgment that I’d understood her.

“I know,” I said. I felt guilty, for some reason. It was like we were criticizing Pop, and how was that fair?

“Your father’s business is good?”

I felt like I needed to stick up for Pop in some way, even if I hadn’t exactly betrayed him. “Very good.”

“He’s able to handle the work with his leg?”

“Most of it. When he needs help, he asks for it.”

“From whom?”

I don’t know why I lied. I guess I wanted to prove that Pop and I were a team. “Me.”

She frowned. “You help him in the business?”

I nodded.

She took both of my hands in hers and smiled. “You be a good girl, Iris. Come to see us. Please.”

I promised I would, if only because it meant I could escape her hold and hurry on my way.

I was ten minutes late to Grace’s house. The same doorman who’d been on duty on my last visit greeted me, though his demeanor was considerably warmer this time. I expected him to remark on the present I’d left in the plants outside the elevator, but he’d either forgotten about my mountain of upchuck or decided that since I was an invited guest, I deserved a little discretion. I arrived at Grace’s floor, hoping to find her waiting for me, but it was Mrs. Dunwitty who stood at attention as the elevator doors slid open.

“Iris. I’m glad you were able to come. I was so excited when Grace said she’d invited you over.”

I couldn’t meet her eyes. The wound was still too fresh. Her voice instantly conjured that other conversation, the one in which my mother had been having an affair.

But that wasn’t true. It was just gossip.

“I was hoping I could have a word with you before you go inside,” said Mrs. Dunwitty. Was she going to throw me out? Repeat her tale and explain why it was the truth?

“All right.”

She fixed a grin on her face, as carefully considered as the twinset she wore with pearls. “I understand you may have overheard some things last weekend. Please forgive me for anything inappropriate I may have said. I want you to always feel welcome in our home. Of course, what you overheard was just that: a private conversation that I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to make public to you or to anyone else.”

There was an air of blame in her voice that I couldn’t miss: it was my fault for eavesdropping, not her fault for saying these things. Grace had made her apologize and she was following the letter of the law without really accepting any blame for what had occurred.

“Your mother was a lovely woman. We all miss her terribly.”

“Thank you,” I muttered. “I should probably get inside.”

I pushed past her before she had a chance to say anything else.

Grace was seated at the vanity in her bedroom. She was alone.

“Oh, you’re here! Thank goodness—I was starting to worry. Did Mother apologize to you?”

I nodded, not having the strength to repeat what she’d said. “Where’s Josephine?”

“She’ll be along shortly, once Mother leaves. Those two are oil and water, so Jo tries to time her entrances and exits accordingly.”

She may have been a thief and potentially a murderer, but Josephine was also a good judge of character.

Grace took me in with her eyes for the first time. “You look beat up. Everything all right?”

I tried the truth on for size. “I ran into my aunt on the way here. And then that scene just now with your mother.”

“Hell’s bells. Grownups can be so taxing, can’t they? I do hope Mother didn’t say anything else to upset you.” She fluffed her hair in the mirror. I got the feeling that if I did own up to Mrs. Dunwitty’s apology being light on sincerity, Grace would make a big stink out of it, and I didn’t have the energy to face that on top of everything else.

I needn’t have worried. Grace quickly forgot what we were talking about and stood up to model her outfit. She twirled in front of me, showing off the dress she’d bought just for tonight’s expedition. From the way she was acting, you would’ve thought she really was just going out for a night on the town, not hoping to trick her supposed best friend into confessing to her role in a murder. “What do you think?”

“It’s swell. You’ll fit right in.”

“I hope so. There’s nothing worse than going someplace new and sticking out like a sore thumb.” She took me in top to tail and turned up her lip slightly. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Only part of it. The rest of it’s in here.” I patted my overnight case.

“Clever girl—I guess you didn’t want to get wrinkled on the subway.”

I sat on her bed as she returned to the vanity stool. “I’m surprised you’re not nervous,” I said.

She concentrated on plucking an errant eyebrow hair. “Oh, I am, but I figure it’s out of my hands now. Whatever’s going to happen is going to happen, right?”

“You never said how Josephine reacted to tonight’s plan.”

“Oh, she was thrilled with the idea. She’s always wanted to go to Harlem. Especially when I told her there’d be loads of servicemen there.” She moved on to the other eyebrow. How had she shaped them so perfectly? My own brows looked like uneven hedgerows.

“Don’t you want to hear my plan?” I asked.

“I don’t have to do anything, do I?”

“Not exactly, but I think it would be helpful for you to know what to expect. Just in case.”

She spun around on the vanity stool and set her hands on her lap. “All right—I’m all ears.”

Unfortunately, I never got to tell her. Right then her bedroom door flew open and Josephine O’Hara walked in.

HER EYES, CLOSE UP, were a pale blue-gray. I used to think Rhona had dead eyes, but after seeing Josephine’s, I realized Rhona’s were simply chilled by her manner. Josephine had peepers that were completely soulless.

“You’re early,” said Grace.

“My mother was driving me crazy. Another minute with her and I swear I was going to snap. You must be Iris.”

“I must be. Nice to meet you,” I said from my perch.

“Likewise,” said Jo. “So are we ready to cut out?” Her red hair had been tamed into curls, her face painted with a careful hand. Her clothes were expensive and, given her background, most likely paid for with money she’d lifted from soldiers’ wallets or coerced them into ponying up after an evening of freebie dinner and dancing. From a distance, she was a dead ringer for Rita Hayworth. But up close she was just another high school girl playing dress up.

It was hard to see her as a killer. But then did anyone with the capacity for such things really look like a murderer?

“It’s really up to you two,” I said. “There’s no point in getting to Harlem before nine. Not unless you just want to walk the streets and take in the sights.”

“That doesn’t sound very wise,” said Jo. “I say we wait to leave until at least eight-thirty. That okay with you, Gracie?”

She had returned to her vanity and her tweezing. “Sure.”

“So Grace says you’re in public school now,” said Josephine.

While everyone else talked about my descent in euphemisms and soft voices, Josephine made no such allowances. After all, she had been a public school girl herself until recently.

“That I am.”

“That must be … interesting.”

“The school’s terrible and the people who go there aren’t much better. But I’m stuck.”

She lifted her chin slightly and I got the impression that I’d just passed some sort of test. “Grace says you have a fellow there.”

Benny. What was he doing right then? Putting on his zoot suit and slicking back his hair? Or had last weekend scared him into donning more conservative rags? Whatever his choice, I hoped for his sake no one bothered him that night.

“Had. I don’t think we’ll be announcing our engagement anytime soon.”

“What happened?” asked Grace.

I thought carefully before I spoke. As much as I hated to think about everything that had happened that week, I could put my loss to good use here. “I wised up. I realized that fixing my wagon to a public school boy wasn’t going to do me any favors. I may be trapped at a public school for the next four years, but I don’t have to become one of them, you dig?”

“That I do,” said Josephine.

“You don’t think that sounds snobbish?” I asked. I wanted to get on the topic of her own time in public school, hoping to find out why she’d had to make a clean break before she came to Chapin.

“More like wise,” said Josephine. “You tie yourself to the wrong balloon and you might find yourself grounded for the rest of your life.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I figured out that if I want to go anywhere I’ve got to put myself first.”

It was actually good advice. I wasn’t prepared to hear wisdom coming out of her mouth. Did that make me just as vulnerable to her as Grace was?

“Are you seeing anyone now?” I asked.

“Jo prefers a band to a soloist,” said Grace with a wink.

“Just because I don’t want to be tied to the wrong fellow doesn’t mean I don’t want to have fun. And the safest way to do that is to make sure your dance card is always full,” said Josephine. “And you’re one to talk. You get this girl around an Army Air Corps uniform and she’ll offer to take back things she didn’t steal.”

“The hell you say!” Grace tossed a cotton ball her way, intending it to be a reprimand. It fell ineffectually to the ground.

“You know it’s true, Grace.” She pointed her thumb Grace’s way. “She comes off like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. I even bought her act for a while. But this girl has the devil in her.”

Grace pushed her lips into a pronounced pout. “So I like to have fun. So what?”

“My point exactly,” said Josephine.

Someone knocked on the bedroom door. “Grace? It’s Mother. I’d like to have a word with you before I leave.”

Grace excused herself and left Josephine and me alone.