Murder at Ebbets Field Read Online Free PDF

Hampton’s right ear; she leaned toward him and laughed. Then Ewing whispered in her left ear; she leaned toward him and laughed just as hard. Then it was Sutherland’s turn again. I couldn’t tell which one she was with, but I thought Sutherland was more her type than Virgil Ewing. Hell, I’d be more her type than Ewing.
    Or maybe she was with both of them. The rumors about her again came to mind.
    I also remembered that Coney Island used to be called “Sodom by the Sea,” and preachers and newspaper editors liked to sermonize against the vices they said were rampant here. Being somewhat short of vices in my life, that reputation had a lot of appeal for me. Perhaps “nice” people didn’t come to Coney Island, but it seemed the perfect place for movie actors and baseball players.
    I was the only Giant here, though. Unless Tom Kelly counted. Kelly went back and forth between playing first base for the Giants and playing a leading man in motion pictures; he constantly threatened to jump from one business to the other unless he was paid more money. Kelly was dressed neatly but not in anything fancy. His main asset was a ruggedly handsome face, and he wore nothing to distract from it. He was seated at Miss Hampton’s table next to his wife Esther, an actress and perennial ingenue who could have been the model for the Kewpie doll. Kelly never looked at his adorable little wife, though. He seemed interested only in Florence Hampton and the contest between Sutherland and Ewing. Almost as interested as I was.
    “She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Marguerite Turner had returned without my noticing.
    “Who?”
    “Florence Hampton, of course. You were staring at her.”
    “Well ...” I wasn’t sure if it was okay to tell your date that another girl was pretty. But if I said no, I’d obviously be lying. So I resorted to an old standby: evasion. “I was trying to figure out who she’s with,” I said.
    The band leader announced the first dance. To my surprise, Tom Kelly hopped up and took hold of Florence Hampton’s arm. He led her to the dance floor, though she didn’t look willing. His wife stared after them, her face reddening and her lips trembling.
    I turned to ask Marguerite what was going on. She was looking back at me expectantly. The other people at our table scraped their chairs back and made their way to the floor. Marguerite smiled, revealing a set of small pearly teeth. Although she wasn’t pretty in the same way as Florence Hampton, there was something about her——especially when she smiled—that! I found powerfully attractive.
    Then I realized what she wanted. And I tried to pretend that I didn’t. Please, anything but dancing.
    “Uh ... do you know who Miss Hampton is with?” I asked, trying to divert her attention from the dance floor.
    “Let’s see,” she replied slowly. “Right now she appears to be with Mr. Kelly.” It also appeared that Kelly and Miss Hampton were arguing.
    “I mean . . .”
    “Yes, I know what you mean. To tell you the truth, I don’t know. But I believe that is her business and hers alone. She’s a friend of mine. won’t say anything about her that could be taken the wrong way.”
    “Okay.” I dropped the subject.
    Marguerite looked over at the band. Somebody must have told them to try some music from this century, for they were now playing a fast rag—not very rhythmically but at least with more energy than they had before.
    I watched the dancers as they moved across the floor, and I tried hard to look too absorbed to realize that Marguerite wanted to join them. I noticed that many of the ladies were wearing slit skirts, some of them cut all the way up to the knees. The new style was supposed to make it easier to get in and out of automobiles, but it also allowed for more movement in dancing.
    When the band launched into the next tune, Miss Hampton broke away from Kelly. Sloppy Sutherland quickly intercepted her. She took his arms willingly and danced