Love and Murder in Savannah by Harper Lin

Author:Harper Lin [Lin, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Lin Books

Chapter Fifteen

“Hank. Thank goodness. I’m trying to give this guy the slip. Can you help me out?” She folded her hands in front of her. “Pretty please?”

“Sure. Come with me.” He took Becky’s hand in his, and it completely disappeared within the folds of his palm. “Now you can look around, but these guys like it quiet, so just try and behave.”

“I’ll do my best.” She squeezed his hand. They went around one corner and then another until they came to a set of swinging doors to a kitchen that was closed for the night.

The burners were cold. The pots and pans had been scrubbed and were hanging from hooks. Dishes, cups, and saucers were neatly stacked in towers. And in the middle of everything were two card tables with serious-looking men sitting there and piles of money in the middle of them all.

A few pretty girls milled around, chatting with one another quietly. Becky couldn’t help but notice that some of them had some serious ice on their fingers or around their necks or dangling from their wrists.

“Everything okay back here, boys?” Hank asked.

The men nodded or grunted their replies. There was a guy behind a small bar just beyond the tables.

“She’s with me. Red, say hello to the fellas.”

Becky smiled, lifted her chin, and gave a wink and a wave. She knew a couple of these fellas were probably packing heat. They weren’t the kind of characters she would care to run into in a dark alley. But here, they were much more interested in the cards in their hands than in her.

“Go get yourself a drink, doll. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Hank said.

“Thanks,” she replied and flounced over to the bar. After taking a seat and ordering herself a gin rickey from the bartender, who looked like he’d only just started wearing long pants, Becky turned to the game at the table closest to her.

“So, how come a pretty girl like you is hiding out here?” the bartender asked.

“I’m trying to lose a real flat tire,” she said and took a sip of her drink. “How about giving me the skinny on what’s going on here?”

“Sure. Well, you see…” The bartender started with his voice just above a whisper. He went on to tell Becky who was winning, who was losing, and how much was in the kitty. But he never mentioned any of their names, which was probably for the best. Becky studied their faces. She imagined Martha’s parlor the prior night with the men at the poker table. She was sure that dealer was at Martha’s.

“They’re here every night?” Becky asked.

“Rooney!” one of the men shouted in their direction and waved his empty glass. The bartender nodded before giving Becky a wink and turning his back to mix the man another round. Then Becky saw another fellow come in. Actually, he just sort of appeared from the shadows.

He looked like one of the hobos she’d seen hopping off the boxcars in the middle of Savannah sometimes.

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