eat. The shelters were dirty and dangerous and discouraging. At least on the street, they could cling to some measure of privacy, thanks to the anonymity the hurrying crowds bestowed on them.
Adelle arrived with her entourage for their meal a few minutes later than was usual. Though they made excellent bag ladies, their pride would not let them appear at the soup kitchen in full regalia. At St. Barnabas, they had a more important role to play. There, they were the sheltered elite, the crème de la crème of the hungry. Consequently, they were as well groomed and regal as ever by the time they showed for lunch.
"Lillian!" Adelle stared in surprise. "You're back. And just what have you done with Fran? Father Stebbins looks positively naked without his amanuensis."
"She's quit!" Auntie Lil whispered across the serving line, where she had been reduced to dishing out stew due to the lack of able bodies. Fran was not the only volunteer missing. The murder had scared several part-timers away and the kitchen was severely understaffed. "See if you can find out why she quit," she ordered Adelle.
"Certainly. A mere child's play of deduction." Adelle accepted her plate with queenly bearing and led her followers down the line. They had arrived in a single group, making it easy for Auntie Lil to check off each face mechanically. She wondered who was helping Herbert out with his surveillance since they nearly all seemed to be at the kitchen. But wait, one face was missing—and it was a hard face not to miss. Emily's old rival, Eva, was not among the crowd of aged actresses.
No one working at the kitchen had mentioned Fran's disappearance yet, although Auntie Lil caught the other volunteers exchanging silent looks a few times. Father Stebbins remained preoccupied, his mind on more important matters. Once he even disappeared upstairs without warning and did not return for nearly half an hour. This uncharacteristic move—combined with the general air of worry circulating through the crowd—fueled a tense atmosphere at the St. Barnabas soup kitchen that day.
Auntie Lil escaped from behind the pot of stew and headed for Adelle's table. "Where's Eva?" Auntie Lil asked the assembled actresses. They shook their heads collectively.
"Who knows?" Adelle murmured. "She's quite the headstrong lady these days. Has her own theories. Who are we to interfere?"
"She's probably angry at me," a usually quiet old actress admitted. "Now that Emily is dead, I expect I'm on the list as her next great enemy. Eva must always have someone to hate. It's how she gets her energy."
"Why would she hate you, my dear?" Auntie Lil asked quickly when she noticed a subtle but growing movement of glances intended to silence the woman.
"I saw her stop at Emily's table the day she died," the woman explained. "I didn't say anything at first. But after a while, Eva made me positively furious with all of the accusations she was hurling at poor Fran. Fran works very hard here and I think it's ugly of us all to keep guessing at her private life. Much less blame the murder on her."
"Eva stopped at Emily's table right before she died?" Auntie Lil asked.
This time the woman did not answer. Someone's warning kick had gotten to her. Her eyes slid over and met Adelle's, then she looked down and kept silent.
"Eva always stopped to say something to Emily," Adelle explained. "Just to prove that she didn't feel in the least snubbed by Emily's refusal to sit at our table. Though, of course, I believe her feelings were terribly wounded."
"Quite a childish fight they were having," Auntie Lil observed.
Adelle opened her mouth as if to say more, then shut it abruptly without explanation. Her eyes surveyed every woman around the table. No one said a word. They had long ago perfected the art of nonverbal communication—and Auntie Lil was not privy to their code. In fact, she would not even waste time trying. She'd just take another tack.
"Have any of you seen a young boy around here?" she asked hopefully. "About this tall. Very blond hair. The one in the dime store photographs I showed you?"
They shook their heads solemnly and Auntie Lil sighed. "I'm getting nowhere, it seems," she complained.
"That's all right," Adelle reassured her. "Neither are we."
"How can The Eagle still be inside that building?" Auntie Lil looked around the table. "I'm not criticizing, but are you sure you've been watching carefully?"
"Quite sure," Adelle insisted, her voice rising in incipient indignation. "At least