A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page B

round fellow stuck his head out.
    “What’s this nonsense about Ernie?”
    “I’m afraid he’s indisposed.”
    “Get in here.”
    As we did, the girl passing the other way tugged at Emmie’s sleeve. “Just between you and me, sister, you need to come up with a better name.”
    “I need to come up with a better something, certainly.”
    The door closed behind us. This time, Emmie didn’t give me a chance.
    “Hello, Mr. Sheedy. I’m Emily Reese and this is my husband, Harry. We’ve been hired to investigate last night’s tragedy.”
    “Which tragedy, the dancing dogs playing Keith’s that turned up foaming at the mouth, or the sharpshooter who ended her act by nailing her husband between the legs at the Orpheum?”
    “I was speaking of Ernie Joy’s death.”
    “Death? Don’t kid me. I’m not in the mood.”
    “I assure you, he’s very dead.”
    “That son of a bitch.”
    “Mr. Sheedy!”
    “What?”
    “That language.”
    He turned to me. “Is she on the level?”
    “Rarely. But Ernie Joy seemed very dead. And the police surgeon concurred.”
    “When did this happen?”
    “Sometime around midnight.”
    “Why wasn’t it in the papers?”
    “Can’t say.”
    “What we’d like to know, Mr. Sheedy, is who would want to kill him?” Emmie asked.
    “How should I know? Where was he killed?”
    This necessitated recounting the convoluted goings on of the previous evening. And I must say, Mr. Sheedy gave us his rapt attention. I suppose it appealed to his theatrical temperament.
    “So was it an accident?” he asked.
    “It was made to look that way,” Emmie said. “But only a fool would believe that it was. So I return to my question, who would want Ernie Joy dead? You must know something of his associations.”
    “I’m not his social secretary.”
    “What about his wife?”
    “Which one?”
    “How many were there?”
    “Two, legally. But he’s still paying them—why would they kill him?”
    “Why did you say ‘legally’?”
    “It was a little ploy of Ernie’s. He’d take up with some girl and then take her to get married out on Long Island. Some friend of his would perform the ceremony. A week later, he’d dump the girl and let her know what was what.”
    “And you carried on business with such a man?” Emmie was indignant.
    “Well, as long as he kept it out of the papers, I didn’t see any harm in it. These were show girls. So what’s this I hear about you being a fire dancer?”
    “One of the best,” I told him.
    “My husband is playing horse, Mr. Sheedy. I am an authoress. What can you tell us about the White Rats?”
    “The White Rats are dead.”
    “Ernie Joy is dead,” Emmie said. “But we have reason to believe the White Rats are still scurrying about.”
    “Where’d you hear that?”
    “We have our sources. Was Ernie Joy a member?”
    “Ernie? He didn’t need them.”
    “I see. Do you know who Erbe is?”
    “Erbe who?”
    “That, I can’t say.”
    “I don’t know any Erbes,” he told her. “I got three hours to find a headliner. I don’t have any more time for you.”
    He shooed us out and called in the girl. “Sorry it didn’t work out, honey,” she told Emmie. “It’s that name.”
    While we headed for home, Emmie gave me her assessment of the situation.
    “I think we’re on to something, Harry.”
    “Are we?”
    “Did you notice how shaken he became at the mention of the White Rats? He must live in fear of them.”
    “Looked more like annoyance to me.”
    “Oh, no. Definitely fear. Just like at the boarding house. I imagine the White Rats are ruthless assassins.”
    “And Ernie Joy was killed for revealing the secret handshake?”
    “More likely, Mr. Joy was working as a secret government agent to expose the ring.”
    “Is it a sartorial quirk of secret government agents to go about in loud plaids? And if the White Rats killed him, where’s that leave Mr. X?”
    “Oh, Mr. X is alive and well.”
    “Well, I’m sure he’ll be