The Double Vice: The 1st Hidden Gotham Novel by Chris Holcombe (free ebook reader txt) 📕

few ice cubes to the whiskey glasses. “Not to be morbid, but how did Mr. Müller meet his demise?”

Joe replied, “A bloke strangled him in the Park.”

“Central Park?” Tyler gave a theatrical shudder as he corked the bottle of whiskey. “Terrible way to go. A trick gone bad then. I’ll bet his brother is furious about the scandal.”

“Aye, that he is.”

“And what made you come up all this way to talk to me?”

Dash answered that one. “In all truthfulness, Walter made us.”

“He made you? Pray tell, how does one do that?”

“He says to find someone, or he’ll turn us into the police.”

Tyler uncorked the bottle of gin. “Sounds like our Walter.” He poured the gin into the third glass, looking at Dash. “How do you take yours?”

“With soda.”

“I don’t have any limes, sadly. So, what does Walter want with me? I haven’t seen his brother for a time now.”

“Walter thinks you can point us to another friend of Karl’s, a female impersonator.”

A slight pause. “Did Walter mention any specifics about her?”

“Only that you might know who she is.”

Tyler finished mixing Dash’s drink and turned from the bar cart, three glasses in hand. “Unfortunately for you both, I haven’t the foggiest idea who he’s talking about.”

Joe said, “Walter was adamant he saw you and her together quite often, lad.”

Dash watched Tyler carefully as the man served them their drinks. “We’re not the enemy, Mr. Smith. We won’t put her or you in any danger.”

Tyler arched his brow. “I don’t know if that’s something you can promise with Walter around.”

Joe asked, “Why do you say that?”

“I direct you to Mr. Parker’s face.” Once all their drinks were in hand, Tyler said, “I would offer a toast, but it feels obscene given the present circumstances.”

Joe raised his whiskey. “To calmin’ nerves.”

Tyler’s laugh was a little too shrill for comfort. “To calming nerves.”

They all drank their medicine and retired to the seating area. Dash and Joe shared the velvety blue couch while Tyler sat in the rounded ivory-colored chair next to the three accent tables . . . and the pistol.

Dash tried once more to appeal to Mr. Smith. “You can’t help us at all in finding her?”

Tyler gave a beleaguered sigh. “I just know I’m going to regret this,” he said. “Alright, I admit, I do enjoy the company of pansies. They’re so irreverent and bubbly, full of life and wit. I know many, many girls, so unless you have a description—”

“Tall with dark hair. When I saw her, she was wearing a blue and gold dress.”

Tyler blinked. “You saw her?”

“She was in my club. With Karl,” Dash said. “I only saw her in shadow and only from behind. I noticed her dress when Walter came in, demanding I take him to her. I refused, hence, well, this.” Dash pointed to his face.

“I see,” Tyler said. “Tall with dark hair doesn’t narrow down the list, I’m afraid.”

“I have a name as well. Miss Avery.”

Tyler considered the name, then shook his head. “Not one of my girls. You can finish your drink and then be on your way.”

“Wait a minute, lad,” Joe said. “We’ve got other names.”

Tyler’s brow furrowed. “I thought Walter only wanted this female impersonator.”

Dash replied, “We’ve discovered a few other friends of Karl. Perhaps they can help us if you can’t.” Or won’t. “Do you know a woman named Pru.”

“Pru? As in, Prudence?”

“I suppose. She wears men’s suits and is a lawyer.”

“How interesting. A female lawyer. What will they think up next?” Tyler uncrossed, then recrossed his legs. “How did you come about that name?”

Joe leaned forward. “Why do you ask?”

Tyler shrugged. “I’m curious. I didn’t know Karl had any friends. One of the reasons I broke it off. I had to be all of his life—lover, friend, acquaintance, family. It got to be so tedious after a while.”

Dash replied, “Karl let the name Pru slip to a friend of mine.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Discretion was never that boy’s strong suit. Obviously, otherwise how would you know to come here.”

“Walter did mention Karl would come to you often after his mother threw him out.”

Tyler scoffed. “His mother. Have you met the woman?”

Both Dash and Joe shook their heads.

“Consider yourselves lucky. Karl told nightmarish stories of how she’d discipline them if they did wrong. Wooden spoons on the back of the hands, a switch to the back of the legs, hand slaps to the face. And yelling, he said. Always yelling. An absolute terror. She’s the reason Karl’s so clingy and Walter so rigid.”

“Karl told me about their father, how he was robbed and killed coming home from a cabaret in Berlin. He said it was why she’s such a fundamentalist teetotaler.”

“I didn’t realize you had spoken much with Karl.”

“We had a brief conversation.”

Tyler’s eyes glinted with a shrewd look. “I see little Karl wasn’t completely forthcoming then.”

Dash furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t just any cabaret. It was a cabaret in Berlin. And, my dear boys, Berlin makes the Village look positively tame.”

Joe said, “Ya mean—”

“Mr. Werner Müller liked to wear ladies’ clothing and dance the night away with former army soldiers. The Nazi thugs—excuse me, the representatives of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party—decided ol’ pansy Werner needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Sounds like they taught him too much of one,” Joe remarked.

Dash said, “That explains why Walter is so vehemently against female impersonators.”

“He’s vehemently against all members of the queer sex,” replied Tyler, “but yes, pansies in particular. Mother Müller made sure of that.”

“Did Karl know what really happened to his father?”

“That’s how I knew about it to begin with. The boy didn’t find out until years after, when he was older and got caught experimenting sexually. Walter told him to try to ward off such behavior. ‘Death comes for degenerates’ or some such thing.” Tyler waved the thought away. “Thank God I cut that cord. Too much baggage for one man.”

“How long ago had you ended things?”

“Fairly recently. I’d say five days ago, maybe a week?”