off that money, Bess. Upstairs, in one of the rooms.”
“Fuck off,” the redhead spat as she tried to squirm out of his grip. “I ain’t no whore.”
Justine couldn’t prevent herself from intervening. “Wait, how much does she owe you?”
The barkeep narrowed his eyes on Justine. “Thirty-five dollars.”
Thirty-five dollars! That was outrageous. “For a morning bar tab?”
“Try four days’ worth of tab. I’m tired of carrying her. She’s gonna pay up one way or another.”
“How?”
“I hardly see how that’s your concern, miss.” The barkeep opened the door and started to tow Bess inside.
“Wait! I’ll give you the money for her tab if you’ll let her go.”
“Why?”
It was a fair question. She was a stranger on the street, offering to square up this woman’s expensive bar tab.
Yet, she couldn’t watch someone be forced into an illicit act against her will, merely because she was short of funds. Plus, if Bess had a four-day bar tab here, perhaps she was well versed in the goings-on at the World Poolroom. She might be a font of information, anything that might lead to Mr. von Briesen.
“Yeah, why?” Bess parroted. “You can keep whatever religious pamphlets you’re peddlin’, honey. I don’t want ’em.”
“No, I’m not here to save your soul. I have some questions, is all.”
The barkeep lifted a shoulder. “Suit yourself. If you have thirty-five dollars to spare, I’ll take it and you can get this loudmouth harridan out of my bar.”
Justine dug in her small purse for the bills to settle Bess’s tab. Counting it carefully, she handed the money to the barkeep. “There you go. Now release her.”
He shoved Bess roughly, causing the redhead to stumble, before disappearing inside. Justine put a hand out to steady the other woman and helped her to the shade near the side of the building. They sat on the stoop of the rooming house next door.
“Go on, ask your questions.” Bess practically sneered at Justine, but Justine ignored it. They weren’t here to become friends, and she didn’t expect gratitude for paying the bar tab. She’d given the money because it had been the right thing to do.
Reaching in her small purse, Justine took out the sketch of Mr. von Briesen. A sketch artist hired by the legal aid society had assisted with the portrait based on his wife’s description. “Do you recognize this man?”
“No. Should I?”
“He disappeared. The nineteenth of June, to be exact. The last place anyone saw him was here at the World Poolroom.”
Bess took another peek at the portrait. “Never seen him before.”
“I understand there are peter players here, that this man may have been a victim. Is there anyone who might know what happened once they put him on the street?”
“Take your pick.” Bess waved her hand around them to indicate the Bowery. “Anyone might have seen.”
“Are there girls working inside the poolroom? Serving girls or . . . others?”
“Prostitutes, you mean? They’re on the upper floors.”
“I’d like to talk to some of them. Do you think you’d be able to help me—?”
Bess pushed off the stone step and got to her feet. “You want to see ’em, pay for an hour just like everybody else. I’m done talking. I’m going back inside.”
“You’re going back in? After you were chased out?”
“Sure. I got some nice lady to pay my tab for me. Now I can run it up again.” Bess sauntered to the poolroom door and disappeared inside. Because of the bright sunlight, Justine couldn’t see through the glass to make sure the woman was all right. She supposed the barkeep would either serve Bess or toss her out again.
Justine sighed, disappointed but not discouraged. It took more than one surly drunk to cause her to give up. These investigations were all about talking to people and gaining their trust. She hadn’t really expected to solve Mr. von Briesen’s disappearance on the first try.
The trick would be getting to the second floor to speak with the girls there. If Mr. von Briesen had hired a companion for the night, perhaps one or two of the women might remember him.
Shielding her gaze from the bright light, she craned her neck to look at the upper floors of the building. Was there another way up there, other than through the poolroom?
Noise at the curb caught her attention. A black brougham skidded to a halt in front of the poolroom, the driver jerking hard on the reins. The driver was familiar, and a shiver ran down Justine’s spine despite the heat.