Buried Bones (20 page)

"I'm so sorry." I held my coffee cup and didn't know what to say. "I didn't mean to--" What? Drag up the past? But that was exactly what I'd come to do. "I'm sure they understood."

"You young people today are so lucky. You chart your own futures, and you don't even realize how different things were one generation before you. I wanted to be a torch singer. I didn't have great expectations. I thought maybe a small club in
Memphis
, or even
New Orleans
. Some place exotic where I could have an apartment and sing at night. I didn't expect to get wealthy or become famous. I only wanted to sing." She looked me dead in the eye. "Not a terribly big dream, is it?"

I started to say that sometimes having a dream was more important than achieving it, but before I blurted it out I realized how utterly stupid that platitude was. It's one thing to fail at a dream, and quite another to have it choked and suffocated.

"How did you find out that
Lawrence
was dead?" I changed the course slightly, wanting to spare her further digging into that particular tar pit of memory.

"I read the paper. Every day. And Millie called. She remembered the day I took her up to meet him. That left an impression on her."

"I only met
Lawrence
a few days before he died, but he left an impression on me, too. He was extraordinary."

"Brilliant," Bev said, and her face took on that internal light. "He wrote and directed our little productions up at the Crescent, that was the name of the casino. We had a special production every Friday and Saturday night. You wouldn't believe the people who came to see us. Rosalyn was a fine dancer, and she knew some very unusual routines. If some of those men had realized that she was barely sixteen . . ." Bev laughed out loud. "We were a scandal, but everyone thought we were legal."

It was so easy to follow Bev back into the past. Part of it was because I'd read
Weevil Dance
and I had everything set up in my brain. Another part, though, was her vivid recollection.

"I know this is going to sound like a strange question, but did anything untoward happen up at Lula that summer?"

It was almost as if the expression froze on her face for a split second. I couldn't be positive that I'd seen anything, because she immediately recovered and drew her eyebrows together in thought as she handed me a serving of plum pudding.

"There was that murder, of course."

"Murder?" I played innocent.

"That awful man was killed. It couldn't have happened to a more deserving guy." She waved a hand in a quick gesture that gave me a glimpse of the girl she once had been. "Lawrence and Tom, that's
Tennessee
's real name, had all of us in a high state of nerves, predicting that all hell would break loose because of Hosea's murder."

I slowed the hand that was shoveling plum pudding into my mouth and swallowed. The pudding was delicious, and I was caught up imagining Lawrence and Tennessee Williams embellishing a murder. But I needed the facts, not some imaginary version. "Tell me exactly what happened," I said, pointing at the pudding with my spoon. "This is the best I've ever had."

"My great-grandmother's recipe. A family secret. The only person I ever told was
Lawrence
." Some of the enthusiasm had faded from her face, and once again she looked old and worn. "Hosea Archer was the man who was murdered, the son of Senator Jebediah Archer. It was a big scandal, and there was some speculation that his daddy would come down to
Mississippi
and shut the Crescent down."

"A
U.S.
senator could have such influence on a place in
Mississippi
?"

"Don't be so naive," she said, but gently. "A word from Senator Archer and the doors of the the Crescent would have been nailed shut. Gambling was illegal back then, and the only way the casino stayed in business was because it had protection."

"There must have been a lot of money." I
was
naive. It had never occurred to me that someone in
Washington
would have his finger in a
Mississippi
pie.
Mississippi
had always been the bastard stepchild of the nation. The Crescent must have been a truly high-stakes house where big money changed hands.

"Several senators were connected to the Crescent.
Mississippi
had some powerful men then. Old men who knew how things worked. The casino was a perfect place for the rich and powerful to come and play without the eyes of the world on them. It was secluded, a private little hideaway with the benefit of a few celebrities hanging about.
Hollywood
and
Washington
have always been in bed together, you know. Kennedy wasn't the first and he won't be the last."

I was getting the picture.
Lawrence
had hinted at undercurrents of power in his book--even drawn strong parallels--but Bev was laying it on the line.

"Anyway, after Hosea was killed, there was a week or so when everyone tiptoed around, but nothing came of it. The gamblers kept coming, and the riverboats drifted around the lake. The liquor flowed, and we kept our jobs."

"Who killed Archer?"

"As far as I know, no one was ever arrested." She shook her head. "Hosea was caught cheating in a card game up in the Yukon Room. It was a magnificent room decorated with a huge stuffed bear and moose heads. Teddy Roosevelt loved that particular room, I was told. It was where the high rollers played cards."

I spooned the pudding into my mouth, alternating with a sip of coffee. By this time, I honestly didn't care what Bev told me as long as she kept talking. She knew some fascinating history.

"Let me get back to Hosea, though. He was not much older than we were, but he acted like he was a big man. He had this attitude, because his father was powerful, that he could treat everyone like servants. For a Southern boy, he was horrible to the Negro girls who worked in the kitchen and laundry. Arabella told me and Lenore that he pushed her face down on his bed when she went up to change the sheets and tried to sodomize her."

"What a creep."

"He was indeed. On the staircase one time he passed me and grabbed my breasts." Her hands went up in a defensive gesture. "I grew up with brothers, though, and I knew a thing or two. I jammed my knee right between his legs and pushed him down the stairs backward. I was terrified he'd tell on me and get me fired, but he never did anything."

"No wonder somebody shot him." This bore a resemblance to
Lawrence
's novel, but only in the vaguest sense of plot. And perhaps in the reaction of the four young people. My disappointment was keen. I'd assumed that the story Bev would tell me would somehow parallel actual events. I'd conveniently forgotten that
Lawrence
was a fiction writer.

"Yes, he probably deserved to be shot, but it was a terrible shock. I was taking a round of drinks up to the room when the alarm went off, alerting the gamblers that a raid was in progress. I heard the shot and a lot of scrambling. When I opened the door of the Yukon Room, there was the body. He'd flipped backward in his chair and was lying there, cards scattered everywhere and blood seeping out onto the carpet."

Since he was shot during a poker game, he was probably shot by a man rather than one of the women he enjoyed abusing. Unless I was badly mistaken, women weren't allowed to play poker with the men unless it was in a movie or out West.

"Was there actually a raid?" In
Lawrence
's book, the killing had been an inside job. The raid had been a setup.

"Yes. There was a system of bells set up in each gambling room. It was a truly remarkable place. Each room had a theme and a different game of chance. There were several high-stakes poker rooms, roulette, craps, blackjack, all of that. But down at the front desk, hidden beneath the counter, were buttons. It was an old system that was put in back when the local sheriff used to bust the card games.

"If there was a raid or trouble, the clerk at the desk could reach under the counter and press all the buttons. Up in the gaming rooms, the bells would sound and alert the gamblers that a raid was in progress. They'd mostly have time to grab their money and hurry down the back stairs."

It was an amazingly simple system, but one that would work.

"How many raids when you worked there?"

"It was strange because the local sheriff was paid off. He kept clear of the Crescent, except to come eat a fancy dinner and listen to our show. He had something of a crush on Rosalyn."

"The sheriff led the raid?" I was interested in Hosea Archer's murder only because it was so blatant--and so thoroughly uninvestigated.

Bev nodded in response to my question. "It was a Tuesday night, which were generally slow. The weekends were the busy times, when folks came downriver from
Memphis
and upriver from
New Orleans
. On weeknights, Rosalyn and I took turns entertaining. Either she'd dance or I'd sing.
Lawrence
directed and sometimes played the piano. Lenore, though, was usually the pianist for me. She could play those old songs beautifully."

"What about
Tennessee
Williams?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, he was too shy to perform. He was a little older than us, and a hundred times more reserved. He and Lawrence wrote songs together and skits, but he'd never put a toe on the stage. He just stood in back of the curtain and watched. Lenore was shy like that, too, and didn't like to perform. She sewed all of our costumes. And she played a guitar, too. It was something of a scandal, a woman with a guitar. But she was very talented. Very popular with the guests. Maybe a little too popular." Pain crossed her face, and I wondered if she was thinking of Lenore's suicide.

Lenore was an Erkwell. Even though the family had been hit hard by the Depression, they were still considered upper-crust. If Bev's father was so opposed to her working at the Crescent that he dragged her out by the hair, I wondered about Lenore, a society girl.

"How did Lenore Erkwell manage to get permission to be at the Crescent?"

Bev brightened. "Her folks thought she was with relatives in Tunica. Lenore was shy, but she was very strong-willed. Of the four of us, she was the one who came up with all the plans. The whole adventure in Lula was her idea." Her voice grew hesitant. "I never knew what her life at home was like, but she had no problem doing whatever she wanted. Either her parents were stupid or they didn't care as long as she didn't cause trouble."

Still, it was a daring lie for a young girl. "Tell me about the night of the murder. What did you see?"

Bev's gaze focused on a middle distance where the past was most easily seen. "It was my night to sing, so I did my numbers and then went into the bar to help out. That's what we did. We were the performers, but we also helped serve drinks, and if the dining room was really busy, we'd serve there, too.

"That's when I got the call to take the drinks up to the Yukon Room. All the other waitresses were running their feet off, and I always liked to go up and serve the men playing poker. It was exciting, that big pile of chips on the table, the smoke, the intensity. And, of course, the tips."

Lawrence
had described a game in the book, and it was easy to picture the scene as Bev talked.

"Like I said, I was outside the door when the alarm went off. I could just hear it through the closed door. There was the gunshot, and when I opened the door, Hosea was lying on the floor."

"What about everyone else in the room?"

"They went out the window and down the back stairs.''

"Who was in the room?"

She shook her head. "I never saw them."

"But there had to have been talk. A man was killed."

She looked down at the floor. "There was talk. But that's all it was."

My heart rate began to increase. "Who was supposed to be in that room?"

"You'll laugh."

"Try me."

She met my gaze. "J. Edgar Hoover."

"The head of the FBI?"

She lifted her eyebrows. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."

I didn't disbelieve her, it was just that
Hoover
was almost a mythic figure. The control freak head of the FBI who cross-dressed. It was almost too much. And now he was involved, or at least a witness, in a gambling murder in
Mississippi
. "Did you ever see him in the hotel?"

She put her coffee cup down abruptly. "You'd think one day I'd learn. No matter how many times I've been looked at like a fool or a liar, I still open my mouth. If you have to know, I did see
Hoover
at the Crescent. He was there on at least two occasions that summer. Fishing in
Moon
Lake
.
Lawrence
took him out in the boat and paddled him to all the fishing holes."