at a safe distance. He disappeared around a corner. I ran up and carefully peered around the building. He’d stopped halfway down the block in front of a café, where he took a final drag off his cigarette, tossed what was left onto the street, and went inside. I crept to the café window.
Inside, Sid sat in a booth talking to some people. At first, I couldn’t see them because Sid’s body blocked my view. He pointed south, as if giving directions of some kind. He opened his satchel, took out an envelope, and handed it over. He stood up, said a few more words, then turned to leave. That’s when I saw who was in the booth, and I knew that Albert had spoken the truth. Sister Eve was too good to be true.
* * *
BACK IN NEW Bremen, Sid parked in front of the Morrow House, grabbed his satchel, and went inside. I slid from the back and followed after him. He went directly to Sister Eve’s suite. I waited a few minutes, then went in myself. They sat at the table where Sister Eve usually had breakfast delivered. She looked up and, when she saw me, seemed relieved.
“There you are, Odie. We thought we’d lost you.”
“I was just bumming around town,” I said.
She studied me closely. “Are you all right?”
I wasn’t. I was so full of anger I wanted to spit. I wanted to explode at her, at them both. But I kept the lid on.
“I’m fine,” I said. “But I think I’d like to lie down for a while.”
I went to the bedroom I shared with Emmy and shut the door, but not all the way. I left it open a crack and stood beside it, listening.
“I told them to meet us in Des Moines,” Sid said, keeping his voice low.
“We don’t have to do this, Sid.”
“You’ve listened to me this far, Evie. And haven’t I got you places?”
“All right,” she said, giving in, but not happily.
“And here are the papers to sign for Corman.”
I peeked through the crack and saw him pull a document from his satchel, which he laid before Sister Eve.
“Should I read this?”
“Just sign, baby. Everything will be set in Saint Louis when we arrive.”
After she’d done as he’d asked, he took the papers, put them back in his satchel, and set it on the floor next to his chair. There was a knock at the door to the suite.
“Come in,” Sister Eve called.
The door opened and I heard Whisker’s voice. “Got some trouble down at the tent, Sid.”
“What is it?”
“Cops looking for somebody. Say they have a warrant.”
“For who?”
“Guy name of Pappas. I think it might be Dimitri.”
“I’m coming.”
“I’m going with you,” Sister Eve said.
I was still peeking through the crack in the door, and I saw her get up and start toward the room where I stood. I hurried to the bed and lay down. She tapped lightly.
“Yeah?” I answered, trying to sound a little groggy.
She nudged the door open. “Sid and I are going down to the tent, Odie. I’d like you to stay here until we come back, all right? Don’t go out until we return, promise?”
“Sure,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing to worry about. Just stay here.”
I heard them leave, and as soon as they were gone, I crept from the bedroom. Sid’s leather satchel still sat on the floor next to the chair where he’d put it. I grabbed the satchel, set it on the table, and opened it. It was stuffed with papers and documents, with handbills for the show, and with envelopes like the one I’d seen him give the people in the café in Mankato. I opened one of the envelopes and found that it held three ten-dollar bills. Each of the other envelopes, five in all, held varying amounts—two more with thirty, two with fifty, and one with a hundred—all in the same ten-dollar denomination. In a side pocket of the satchel, I found a small, silver-plated revolver. In another pocket was a large brown snap case. I released the snap and lifted the lid. Inside lay a syringe and several vials of clear liquid.
When Albert and I had traveled with our father as he made his rounds delivering bootlegged liquor, we’d routinely visited a man who ran a speakeasy in Cape Girardeau. On our last visit, my father had trouble rousing him, pounding at the door for a long time before the man finally opened up. He looked disheveled and disoriented