A Golden Cage by Shelley Freydont Page A

Belle.”
    Noreen frowned. “If you’re a spy for the coppers . . .”
    â€œI’m not,” Deanna said. At least she wasn’t officially a spy.But if she learned anything that could help catch the killer, she would be duty bound to tell. She started to say so, then held her piece.
    â€œThen why are you interested in Belle?”
    Deanna looked down at her hands, which she was glad to see sat quietly in her lap. Calm. At least on the outside. “I thought we might be friends.”
    Noreen cracked a laugh.
    â€œWhy?” Talia asked. “Belle isn’t one of your class anymore. Why would you want to be friends?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Deanna said. “Why do any two people become friends? Why are you and Noreen friends?”
    â€œWe work together,” Noreen said. “You obviously don’t have to work at all, and you certainly aren’t an actress. How could you and Belle possibly have any common interests as friends and after knowing each other for not even a few hours?”
    â€œBut we do.”
    â€œAnd just what is that?”
    â€œLike I told you, we both like dime novels,” Deanna said, feeling embarrassed and for some reason sad.
    â€œWell,” Gil said. “I didn’t think ladies read books for the masses.”
    â€œI do,” Deanna said, beginning to get a little tired of their attitude.
    A knock at the door made them all jump.
    â€œNoreen, have you seen Rollie and Gil? Edwin wants to see us all downstairs.”
    â€œI’ll go find them,” Noreen called. “We’ll be down in a minute.” She waited until the footsteps receded. “You’ll have to go now.”
    â€œBut I—”
    â€œListen. If the police hold us in town until they find Belle, we’ll lose a huge amount of income. Income none of us can afford to lose. But we can’t discuss this now.”
    â€œAnd you can’t stay here by yourself,” Rollie said. “I’ll escort you downstairs.” He offered Deanna his arm. Reluctantly, she took it. She hadn’t learned anything helpful except that this was a very loyal group, so loyal that they might withhold any useful information until it was too late to save Belle Deeks.
    Rollie walked her down the stairs, put his finger to his lips at the bottom of the stairs, and motioned her to stay until he peeked into the parlor. Then he gestured for her to hurry to the door, which Deanna did. And before she knew it, she was back on her bicycle and pedaling toward . . .
    She meant to head south, back to Bonheur, but at the next block she turned west. Joe had said he’d seen Belle at a yacht party. Maybe Belle had returned there today.
    *   *   *
    J oe stepped out into the bright sunshine and walked down the gangplank to the pier. He took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to drive the odor and sting of stale whiskey, eggs, and cigars from his person.
    He made his way over to where several of the crew members were now standing on the pier, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes and passing around a bottle of Mersey’s whiskey.
    Joe nodded to them and slowed. But he could tell right away they weren’t in a talkative mood. He’d do better to leave them to Will and the head-cracking dock patrol.
    With a final look around he took his bike and rolled it across the wharf to the street.
    Ahead of him a wooden crate leaned precariously against a shipbuilder’s wall. Just as he reached it, it rattled, and Joe made a quick detour away; he was in no mood for rats or feral dogs at this time of day.
    The figure that crawled out was neither rodent nor beast, but a man, ancient, by the looks of him. He slowly unfolded to his feet, where he stood at an angle that complemented the crate.
    He was wearing filthy denim pants held up with a piece of rope and a torn and filthier wool sweater. He squinted at Joe, his nose stuck in the air like