Best Kept Secrets(127)

"I'd swear under oath that he was," she said, her eyes

openly challenging.

That was a dead-end street. Alex decided to stop butting

her head against the bricks. It was giving her a headache.

"How well did you know my mother?"

"Well enough not to cry over her death." Her candor

matched Stacey Wallace's. Alex should have been inured to

it by now, but she wasn't. "Look, sugar, I hate to put it to

you so bluntly, but I didn't like your mother. She knew that

Reede and Junior both loved her. The temptation was just

too strong."

"What temptation?"

"To play them against each other, see how far she could



go. After your daddy got killed, she started playing up to

them again. Reede was slow to forgive her for getting pregnant,

but not Junior. I guess he saw his chance and took it.

Anyway, he started courting her in earnest.

"His folks didn't like it. Stacey Wallace was about to come

apart at the seams over it. But it looked like Junior was going

to get Celina, after all. He made it known to anybody who

wanted to listen that as soon as he graduated, he was going

to marry her. Tickled your grandma to death. She'd always

been jealous of Reede and fancied Junior Minton as a son-in-law."

She paused to light another cigarette. Alex waited impatiently,

a knot of tension drawing tighter in her chest. After

Nora Gail's cigarette was lit she asked, "How did Reede feel

about the pending marriage between Celina and Junior?"

"He was still pissed at Celina, but he cared--a hell of a

lot. That's why he came to me that night. Celina had gone

out to the ranch for supper. Reede expected Junior to pop the

question. By morning, he expected them to be engaged."

"But by morning, Celina was dead."

"That's right, sugar," Nora Gail replied coolly. "And in

my opinion, that was the best solution to their problem."

As though punctuating her startling statement, a shot rang

out.



Thirty-four



"Good Lord, what was that?" Alex sprang to her feet.

"A gunshot, I believe." Nora Gail remained admirably

calm, but she had already reached the door by the time the



man who had greeted Alex flung it open. "Is anyone hurt,

Peter?"

"Yes, ma'am. A customer's been shot."

"Phone Reede."

"Yes, ma'am."

Peter lurched toward the telephone on the desk. Nora Gail

left the office. Alex followed her. The madam flung open the

drapes with a theatrical flourish and took in the scene at a

glance. With apprehension and curiosity, Alex peered over

Nora Gail's shoulder.

Two men whom Alex assumed were bouncers had subdued





a man and were restraining him against the ornate bar. Several

scantily clad young women were cowering against the purple

velvet furniture. Another man was lying on the floor. Blood

was pooling beneath him, making a mess on the pastel Oriental

rug.

' 'What happened?'' When Nora Gail got no answer, she

repeated her question with noticeably more emphasis.

"They got in a scuffle," one of the prostitutes answered

finally. '' Next thing we knew, the gun went off." She pointed

down. A revolver was lying on the floor near the prone man's

feet.

"What were they fighting over?" After a lengthy silence,

one of the girls fearfully raised her hand.

"Go to my office and stay there." Nora Gail's tone was

as brittle as cracking ice. It suggested that the girl should

have known how to prevent an incident like this. "The rest

of you get upstairs, and stay there until further notice."

No one argued. Nora Gail ran a tight ship. The young

women flitted past Alex like a flock of butterflies. They were

met on their way upstairs by several men stampeding down,

pulling on their clothes as they ran. Without exception, they

looked neither right nor left as they exited through the front

door.

It was a farcical scene, but giggling over it was out of the

question. Alex was mortified. She had been on the fringes

of violence before, but reading about criminal action in a



police report was different from experiencing it firsthand.

There was something very startling and real about the sight

and scent of fresh, human blood.

Nora Gail gestured Peter, who had rejoined them, toward

the bleeding man. He knelt beside him and pressed his fingers

against the man's carotid artery. "He's alive."

Alex saw some of the starch go out of Nora Gail's posture.

She'd handled the situation with aplomb, but she wasn't made

of stone. She had been more worried about the situation than

she had let on.

Hearing the wail of a siren, Nora Gail turned toward the