Free The Case of the Petrified Man by Caroline Lawrence Page A

raspy voice. She had a small, thin cigar in her mouth. “It is mine. She rented it from me. And that still does not explain what you are doing here.”
    “I am looking for clews,” I said. “I am a Detective. I have been hired to find the man who killed Miss Sally Sampson. I am hoping to compile a list of Suspects.”
    The woman gave a kind of snort. She was about as wide as she was tall. Her tightly done-up dark hair was streaked with gray. Her lips and cheeks were stained with rouge. She sported a top hat of the sort ladies wear while riding: brown with a lavender scarf around it.
    “Why, you is just a puppy,” she rasped, taking the little cigar from her mouth and blowing the smoke forcefully in my direction. “Half Injun, too, by the looks of you.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I said politely. “I am half Lakota, but one hundred percent Methodist.”
    She snorted again & shook her head. “Short Sally’s things are all up at Currie’s, waiting to be auctioned day aftertomorrow. You will not find any clews around here.” She took another deep drag. “Who hired you, anyway?”
    I opened my mouth to speak, but then hesitated. I guessed Martha might be a runaway slave, even though she called herself a lady’s maid. “Someone whose life is in danger,” I replied.
    “All our lives are in danger,” said the woman. “There is a man in this town murdering helpless women & the Law is doing nothing about it. I suppose I should be glad someone is looking into this, even if it is just a child.”
    “Sometimes,” I said, “a child can go where other people can’t.”
    “True,” she said. “Very true.” She smiled & put the little cigar in her mouth & stepped forward & held out her hand. “My name is Gertrude Holmes, but everybody calls me Big Gussie. I own the Boarding House next door.” She was breathing heavily but I learned later that was just her way. I decided she was more wheezy than raspy. “What did you say your name was again?” she said.
    “P.K. Pinkerton,” I replied. “Everybody calls me P.K.”
    I do not like people touching me but I stretched out my hand politely. She nearly crushed it with her gloved hand.
    “Well, P.K.,” she said in her wheezy voice, “I could use a stiff drink. How about you?”
    “I am partial to black coffee,” I said, shaking the blood back into my hand. “I also like soda water with sarsaparilla syrup. It purifies the blood.”
    She said. “I find whiskey purifies my blood just fine.” She dropped the butt of her slender cigar & shmooshed it out with the toe of her boot.
    I bent over and picked up the stub end of the small cigar.
    “What is this?” I asked. “I have never seen one like this.”
    “That? That there’s a cigarrito. I buy mine by the dozen up at Bloomfield’s Tobacco Emporium.”
    “What brand?” I said.
    “It’s called ‘Lady Lilac,’” she said. “I love lilac.”
    I sniffed the stub. Sure enough, the tobacco did have a tincture of lilac to it. I put it in my pocket.
    Big Gussie was watching me with narrowed eyes & her head tilted to one side. “Why did you do that?”
    “I am starting a Tobacco Collection,” I said. “A Big Tobacco Collection.”
    She said, “You are a very peculiar person.”
    I did not know what to say to that so I said nothing.
    She looked at me and I looked at her.
    “I reckon I can sweep up later,” she said. “Why don’t you come on over and take some refreshment with me and my girls? I have information that might be of use to you, including the names of about two dozen possible Suspects.”
    I studied her posture. Her feet were pointed straight towards me and she did not show any signs of lying or deception.
    I said, “Thank you, ma’am. Anything you could tell me about Suspects in this case would be mighty useful.”

Ledger Sheet 19
    NORTH D STREET HAS lots of small whitewashed, pointy-roofed houses called
cribs
. Each has a door & window & a little porch with an overhang so the Ladies can sit