He had brainwashed his wife against her family and used her
immortal soul as leverage. "Where are your sisters now?"
"Peggy Gail died a few years ago. I read about it in the
newspaper. She had cancer," she said, her face sorrowful.
"What about the other one? Nora Gail?"
Wanda's lips narrowed with stern disapproval. "She's still
living her sinful ways."
"Here in town?"
"Oh my, yes." Again, she clasped her hands beneath her
chin and said a quick prayer. "I pray to God that she'll see
the light before it's too late."
"She never married?"
"No, she likes men too much, all men. She never wanted
one in particular. Maybe Reede Lambert, but he didn't want
anything permanent."
"She liked him?"
"Very much. They enjoyed each other physically, but it
never amounted to love. Maybe they were too much alike.
Stubborn. They both have a mean streak, too."
Alex tried to make the next question sound casual. "Do
you know if he still sees her?"
"I expect he does," she said, folding her arms across her
middle and sniffing righteously. "He liked us all, but Nora
Gail was always his first choice. I don't know if they still
sleep together, but they've gotta stay friends 'cause they know
too much about each other. Ever since the night Celina was
killed, there's been--"
"What about it?" Alex interrupted.
"What about what?"
"The night Celina was killed."
"Reede was with Nora Gail."
Alex's heart fluttered. "He was with your sister that night?
You're sure?"
Wanda gave her a puzzled look. "I thought everybody
knew that."
Everybody but me, Alex thought bitterly.
She asked Wanda where Nora Gail lived. Reluctantly,
Wanda gave her directions to the house. "I've never been
there, but I know where it is. I don't think you can miss it."
Alex thanked her for the information and rose to leave. At
the door, Wanda became nervous again.' 'I don't think Fergus
would like it that I talked to you."
"He won't hear about it from me." Wanda Gail looked
reassured until Alex added, "I'd advise him against any more
vandalism, and I would appreciate not getting another condemning
letter in the mail."
"Letter?"
She appeared not to have any knowledge of the letter that
had been waiting for Alex when she had returned from Austin,
but Alex felt sure that she must. "I won't place you in a
position of having to lie for your husband, Mrs. Plummet,
but I should warn you that Reede has the letter and considers
it a police matter. I feel certain he'd make an arrest if I receive
another one."
She hoped the subtle threat would work. By the time she
reached her car, however, her mind had already moved forward
to her interview with Reede's alibi.
The two-story frame structure reminded Alex of the Prohibition-era
roadhouses she'd seen in gangster movies. It had
no signs out front and was invisible from the highway, but
there were several commercial rigs in the parking lot, along
with a few pickup trucks, and even a recent-model Cadillac.
The stone sidewalk was bordered with valiant, dusty pansies.
A series of steps led up to a deep veranda. There was
an old-fashioned pull bell next to the front door. Muted
honky-tonk music wafted through the walls, but the windows
appeared to have been blacked out; she couldn't see through
them.
The door was answered by a bear of a man with a full,
salt-and-pepper beard covering the lower two-thirds of a face
as florid as a sirloin steak. He was wearing a white tuxedo
shirt and black satin bow tie, over a full white apron. He was
also wearing a fearsome, intimidating frown.
"I--" Alex began.
"Are you lost?"
"I'm looking for Nora Gail Burton."
"Whaddaya want with her?"
"I want to talk to her."
"What about?"
"It's personal."
He squinted suspiciously. "You selling something?"
"No."
"You got an appointment?"
"No."
"She's busy."
He started to close the door, but a man approached it on
his way out. He squeezed between them, doffing his bill cap
to Alex and muttering thanks to the doorman. Alex took
advantage of the interruption and stepped over the threshold
into a formally decorated vestibule. "I'd like to see Ms.
Burton, please. I promise not to take too much of her time."
"If you're looking for work, miss, you'll need to fill out
an application and provide pictures. She doesn't see a girl
until she's looked over her pictures."
"I'm not looking for work."
He considered her for another long moment before coming
to a favorable conclusion. "Name?"
"Alexandra Gaither."
"Wait right here, you hear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Don't move."
"I promise."
He retreated toward the back of the house, moving along
the staircase with a grace and lightness of tread unusual for
a man his size. His order for her to stay put had been so
emphatic that it had nailed her shoes to the floor. She didn't
think anything could prise her away.
Within seconds, however, the music beckoned her toward
its source. Low conversation and soft laughter lured her
toward the violet brocade drapes that separated the hallway
from the room beyond. The edges overlapped so she couldn't
see anything. Raising her hand tentatively, she pushed them
apart and peeked through the slit.
"Ms. Gaither."
She jumped and spun around, dropping her hand guiltily.
The bearded giant was looming over her, but his soft, pink
lips were twitching with amusement.
"This way," the mammoth said. He led her behind the
stairwell and stopped in front of a closed door. After giving
it three sharp raps, he pushed it open and stepped aside for
Alex to enter. He closed the door behind her.
Alex had expected the madam to be reclining on satin
sheets. Instead, she was seated behind a large, functional
desk banked by metal file cabinets. From the number of
ledgers and folders and stacks of correspondence scattered
across the desk, it looked as though she conducted as much
business here as in the boudoir.
Nor was her clothing what Alex would have expected.
Instead of a scanty article of lingerie, she was wearing a
tailored wool business suit. She was, however, elaborately
jeweled, and all the pieces were genuine and exquisite.
Her hair had been bleached snow-white and looked like a
sculpted mound of cotton candy. Somehow, though, the outdated
style suited her. Like her sister Wanda, her figure gravitated
toward plump, but she carried that well, too. Her
complexion was her best feature. It was flawless, smooth,
and milky white. Alex doubted it had ever been exposed to
the damaging West Texas sun.
The blue eyes with which she assessed Alex were as calculating
as those of the cat that was occupying the corner of
the desk nearest her right hand.
'' You have better taste than your mother,'' she said without
preamble, giving Alex a slow once-over. "Celina had pretty
features, but no sense of style. You do. Sit down, Miss
Gaither."
"Thank you." Alex sat down in the chair across the desk.
After a moment, she laughed and shook her head with chagrin.
"Forgive me for staring."
"I don't mind. No doubt I'm your first madam."
"Actually, no. I prosecuted a woman in Austin whose
modeling agency proved to be a prostitution ring."
"She was careless."
"I did my homework. We had an airtight case against her.''
"Should I take that as a warning?"
"Your operation doesn't fall into my jurisdiction."
"Neither does your mother's murder case." She lit a slender
black cigarette as a man would, with an economy of
motion, and offered one to Alex, who declined. "A drink?
Forgive me for saying that you look like you could use one."
She gestured toward a lacquered liquor cabinet that was inlaid
with mother-of-pearl.
"No, thank you. Nothing."
"Peter said you declined to fill out an application, so I
guess you're not here looking for a job."
"No."
"Pity. You'd do very well. Nice body, good legs, unusual
hair. Is that its natural color?"
"Yes."
The madam grinned wickedly. "I know several regulars
who would enjoy you a lot."
"Thank you," Alex said stiffly, the compliment making
her feel like she needed a bath.
"I guess you're here on business. Yours," she said with
a lazy smile, "not mine."
"I'd like to ask you some questions."
"First, I'd like to ask one of my own."
"All right."
"Did Reede send you here?"
"No."
"Good. That would have disappointed me."
"I found you through your sister."
One eyebrow arched a fraction of an inch higher. "Wanda
Gail? I thought she believed that speaking my name aloud
would turn her into a pillar of salt, or some such nonsense.
How is she? Never mind," she said when she sensed Alex's
hesitation.
"I've seen Wanda Gail from a distance. She looks terrible.
That little pecker who professes to be a man of God has
nearly ruined her health, as well as her looks. Her kids go
around like ragamuffins. If she wants to live like that, fine,
but why impose poverty on them?"
She was genuinely indignant. "There's no righteousness
in being poor. I'd like to help her financially, but I'm sure
she would rather starve than take a cent from me, even if her
husband would allow it. Did she just come right out and tell
you that her sister was a whore?"
"No. She only gave me directions here. I guess she assumed
that I already knew your . . . occupation."
"You didn't?"
"No."
"My business has been lucrative, but I'm branching out.
I used to screw men for fun, Ms. Gaither. I'm still screwing
them, but now I do it mostly for money. And you know what?
Money's even more fun." Her laugh was throaty and complacent.
She had none of Wanda Gail's timidity. Alex got the
impression that Nora Gail wasn't afraid of Satan himself, that
she would walk up to him and spit in his eye without an
ounce of trepidation. After that, she would probably seduce
him.
"In fact," she continued, "you were lucky to catch me
in. I just returned from a meeting with my banker. No matter
how busy he is, he makes room in his schedule to see me."
She gestured down at the portfolio lying open on top of
the desk directly in front of her. Even reading it upside down,
Alex recognized the logo on the letterhead.
"NGB, Incorporated," she mouthed silently. When her
eyes met the madam's again, Nora Gail's were gloating. "You are NGB, Incorporated? Nora Gail Burton," she said faintly.
"That's right."
"You signed the letter the businesspeople sent to me."
"I helped draft it." Her long, beautifully manicured nails
sank into the cat's lush fur as she scratched it behind the ears.
"I don't like what you're trying to do here, Miss Gaither. I