[Dorothy Parker 06] - The Murder Club by Agata Stanford

Author:Agata Stanford [Stanford, Agata]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery: Historical Fiction, Mystery, Woman Sleuth, Mystery: General
ISBN: 9780985780319
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 17987813
Publisher: Jenevacris Press
Published: 2013-05-19T23:00:00+00:00

Polly Adler

Chapter Eight

Stunned by the news of Daniel Cousins’ murder, Mr. Benchley, Soledad, and I began walking downtown, zombie-like, and it was only natural that we should gravitate toward the closest comfort station, which was Tony’s Speakeasy, for a round of drinks.

From a telephone booth at a Western Union office I called Jane and Ross at the New Yorker offices, and then I reached Aleck at home with the news about Daniel Cousins. They agreed to meet us at Tony’s and then we’d go to Gino’s at five o’clock to meet with the detective. Aleck said he would telephone Heywood and Frank to pass on the news and ask them to join us at Gino’s.

The days were getting shorter, and although the mornings and evenings were crisp, by afternoon the sun warmed the city. It was the best season to walk around town, to relish the balmy air, to linger for a time, to window-shop. No need to rush down into the subway, or hop a streetcar, or seek the warmth of steam heat in an office or apartment. These were walking days, exploring days, and there was always something new to see.

Despite the best of weather, though, we were all a little out of step with the pedestrian march. I was unconscious of the flow of human traffic along the sidewalk until suddenly we were at the door of Tony’s Speakeasy. It was between-time, before the rush of patrons who stopped in after work for a drink and a chat with friends.

Aleck, Jane, and Ross had arrived, and my spirits were lifted at the sight of Chico and Harpo enjoying a late lunch of Spaghetti à la Tony. Groucho and Zeppo had afternoon calls at the movie studio in Astoria, Harpo explained, falling all over himself when he saw that Soledad was with us.

He leaped to his feet and the napkin tucked in his collar fell to the floor. He stooped to retrieve it and hit his head on the table on the way up, causing his gin cup to spill over. In an attempt to wipe up the mess, he used the napkin, but when that wasn’t enough, he tugged at Chico’s dinner napkin. As it was securely tucked into his collar, the recoil unbalanced Chico, whose elbow hit down hard on the little table, sending him, the table, the dinner plates, the basket of bread, and the condiments crashing to the floor.

These kinds of mishaps would put Harpo into “entertainment mode” to save face. With exaggerated flair, Harpo gathered all the items—the plates, the cups, the utensils, even the strands of spaghetti in red sauce—examined them thoroughly, wiped the plates with his dinner napkin, and then wrapped everything up in the checkered tablecloth, tying the ends into a neat, if soggy, bundle.

“All he needs is a stick,” said Chico, rising from the slimy mixture of spaghetti and wine. After Mr. Benchley gave him a helping hand, Chico grabbed Aleck’s walking stick and handed it to his brother,

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