Baltimore Blues Read Online Free PDF

No, not at all.”
    “Could I have a quarter, then?” Tess fished in her pocket and handed her a crumpled dollar bill. She had little sentiment for panhandlers and none for her grandmother, considered a harridan by those closest to her. But a dollar should buy her a morning of silence.
    The woman tucked the bill into the voluminous folds of her dress and rocked happily, singing to herself. Tess sighed and turned on her Walkman. Ella Fitzgerald, The Johnny Mercer Songbook .
    She and her new friend sat on the bench for four hours without exchanging another word. Johnny Mercer gave wayto Jerome Kern. “All the Things You Are.” “You Couldn’t Be Cuter.” “I’ll Be Hard to Handle.” Good theme song for Ava. Tess finished her book and started over again. Obviously too short for surveillance work.
    She was about to start the book for a third time when Ava appeared a few minutes past noon. She walked briskly east, briefcase in hand, looking every inch the important lawyer on her way to an important trial. A lawyer, Tess thought, who felt coolly confident because she had used the right deodorant that morning. Catty, she chided herself. I’m just jealous because her suit costs more than I make in a week . It fit perfectly, too, Tess noted. She had never been so polished. Tess considered herself well dressed if her hose didn’t run and her blouse didn’t pull out of her waistband.
    Today, of course, Tess had dressed to disappear. Jeans, a white T-shirt hanging loose, basketball sneakers. She didn’t worry about Ava remembering her face, but she had tucked her braid under a black wig, one of the Gabor sisters’ creations. The wig belonged to Kitty, who wore it one memorable Halloween, playing a fortyish Cleopatra to a twenty-one-year-old Julius Caesar, an anachronism she said Shakespeare would have loved. Tess liked her raven tresses, but she wasn’t sure she had achieved the low-key look she wanted. She had a feeling the ropy black strands made her look more like a would-be Rastafarian, or Crow, with his green and black dreadlocks.
    She had assumed Ava would walk east, then head north on St. Paul toward the courthouse. But Ava kept going, bearing down on the Gallery like a homing pigeon. The Gallery was a four-story mall topped by the Renaissance Harborplace Hotel and filled with the same stores found in every mall in America. Tess would have thought it a little common for Ava, but Ava almost cooed with pleasure as she walked through its glass doors, throwing out her arms as if to embrace all the potential purchases waiting there.
    Sweating profusely beneath her wig, Tess ducked and bobbed through the crowded mall, trying to keep a comfortable distance between them. Luckily Ava had eyes only forthe shop windows. She lingered to check out her own perfect reflection, then moved on, sometimes glancing at her watch. There seemed to be an itinerary to her browsing, some kind of agenda, but Tess couldn’t figure it out.
    Amaryllis, a small jewelry store, lured Ava in. Tess watched from outside as Ava asked a clerk to show her an odd, flamboyant necklace, a silver chain loaded with charms and lockets. It would have looked hideous on most people, but against Ava’s white throat and crimson blouse, it was just the right touch. Ava handed it back with a pretty shake of regret. It’s just not as perfect as I am , she seemed to be saying.
    She returned to her window-shopping, venturing into stores only to sneer at the merchandise. Again and again Tess watched her hold something in front of her—a bag, a dress, a scarf, a belt—then put it back with that same charming shake of her head. Nothing suited her. The more expensive it was, the sadder she seemed.
    In Victoria’s Secret, Tess got as close to Ava as she dared, hiding behind a rack of Miracle Bras. Ava trailed her hand along a table of underwear, then recoiled as if the polyester fabric had shocked her skin. Yet she reached out again, running her hand more lightly still