The Sporting House Killing by G. Powell (best non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

The elevator arrived after a spell. The operator pulled the door open and said through her nose, “Second floor, millinery department.”

Ladies was trying on hats in there. Then he spotted the man.

“That’s him!” He nodded toward a bald man wearing a gray suit and bow tie. He was talking to a lady looking at a hat.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s him.”

“Wait here,” she whispered, “and don’t be obvious watching us.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He started whistling Yankee Doodle, so he wouldn’t be obvious.

She walked slow-like toward the man, pausing every few feet to look at a hat. She stopped and picked one up. She put it on her head and adjusted it two or three times. Then she walked over to a mirror on the counter near the bald man, who was still with the other customer. She tugged it lower on one side and turned her head different ways while looking in the mirror. It either fit or it don’t. Maybe she was just stalling.

The other customer thanked the bald fella and left with her new hat. The bald man spotted Miss Peach and went up to her.

Jasper eased closer so he could hear. He stopped whistling but was careful not to stare.

“May I help you, miss?”

“Oh my, yes, you certainly can.” She touched the brim of the hat and tried that smile of hers on him.

“That’s a lovely Milan straw,” the man said. “I think the velvet ribbon and hyacinths really make the hat. Were you looking for an evening hat?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You look very nice in it.”

“Do you think so?” She batted her eyes.

“I do indeed. It goes well with your lovely red hair.”

“It’s ginger.” She showed him that sweet smile again. “I prefer a hat that shows it off but doesn’t overbear it, if you know what I mean.”

“Of course, ma’am. That one looks just the thing.”

She turned this way and that, looking back over her shoulder at the mirror. “A handsome man like you would certainly know.”

He colored red, then winked. “Well, I have served a number of fine ladies.”

“It’s for the soiree at Mayor McCulloch’s on Saturday. Do you honestly think it’s pretty on me?”

“Any hat would be pretty on you, but this one fills the bill nicely.”

She shrugged her shoulders like she didn’t know what she thought. “I’m just not sure. I’d like to bring my husband in to give his opinion.”

She was married? Dang. Jasper shuffled his feet and tried to look like he belonged there.

“Would you hold it for me? I don’t want any other ladies to snatch it up.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“May I ask for you by name, sir?”

He commenced to winking at her again. “Certainly. I’m Buford Lowe, at your service.” He bowed his head.

“Oh, Mr. Lowe, you’ve been so very helpful. I’ll be back as soon as my husband can get here.”

She’d tricked him good about that hat, but Jasper sure didn’t know she was a married lady. He sighed and followed her out.

***

Miss Peach led Harley and Jasper through the first floor to the elevator and up to millinery. She spotted the bald man, offered her arm to Harley, and headed toward him.

The dreadful man saw her and waved. His face twitched: three blinks, one wink. He’d be jerking from ear to ear quite soon. She suppressed a smile.

“Mr. Lowe, I’d like you to meet Mr. Harley Calloway,” Miss Peach said.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Calloway,” Lowe said. “You have a charming wife.”

Harley didn’t smile. “Truth be told, she’s not really my wife. She’s my stenographer.”

Lowe hesitated, then broke into a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. You have a different . . . interest . . . in this young lady’s appearance?”

He deserved what was coming.

Harley crossed his arms. “Actually, my interest is you.”

“Oh,” he replied, his eyes widening. “In what way, sir?”

“I was wondering if you could recommend a good bawdy house? Maybe Miss Jessie’s?”

Lowe’s mouth flopped open, and his eyes blinked and winked uncontrollably. “I, ah . . .” He spoke in a quieter voice. “I don’t know any bawdy houses, sir.” He looked around the store, still blinking and winking.

“Oh, really?” Harley replied in a normal tone, causing Lowe to put a finger to his lips. Harley didn’t lower his voice. “Miss Sadie in particular spoke very highly of you.”

“I . . . I, ah, don’t know any Miss Sadie,” Lowe whispered.

“She gave me your name as a reference, Mr. Lowe. You said your first name is Buford, right?”

“Yes,” he croaked. He was about to burst.

“She even said you worked in the millinery department at Sanger Brothers. I believe you have sold hats to Miss Jessie Rose herself?”

The man froze, speechless, both eyes blinking wildly, and then scurried off down the aisle. He glanced over his shoulder and nearly ran out the back door. It was all she could do to stifle a laugh.

Harley raised an eyebrow at her. “Papa would quote Proverbs about now, wouldn’t he?”

She answered with a smile. “I do believe we just saw the wicked flee.”

“When no man pursueth.”

Chapter 17

“So Winky-Blinky’s been right around the corner from us all along?” Catfish asked, still standing just inside the door as they crowded around to give him the report.

“It looks that way,” Harley replied.

He took off his coat and hung it on the hook by the door, then peered at Jasper. “Sure that’s him?”

“Yes, sir. I’m real sure.” Jasper seemed excited. “You wanted me to keep an eye peeled for him, and so I watched him good.”

“He has an eye twitch just as Sadie described,” Miss Peach added.

As he passed behind her, Catfish noticed she’d drawn daisies on her notepad—dozens of them, all in rows, each perfectly the same as all the others.

Sweet girl. She was young, all right, but she had a pretty good sense of people, and he’d come to rely on her for much more than just taking notes and banging away on the confounded typewriting machine.

“You think he’s a killer?” he asked her.

“That man a killer? Not at all.” She drew another daisy, then shuddered. “He’s more oily than scary. After Mr. Harley