Fallen Women by Sandra Dallas Page A

face was pale, and the knuckles of her hands, clutching her purse, were white.
    “I will deny it! I wouldn’t stoop so low.”
    “No? Then how do you live? You were never much for work. Living off women seems to be the way you’ve always supported yourself.”
    The conversation was heated, and the men at the table stopped their game to stare, so Mick took Beret’s arm, then turned to Teddy. “You! You come along.” The three made their way to a corner and sat down.
    The bartender came over with a bottle and three glasses and said, “If you’re going to take up a table, Mick, I expect somebody to buy a drink. It’s on the house for you and the lady.” He lingered a moment, as if hoping to discover what was going on, but Mick waved him away. He offered the bottle to Teddy, who poured the liquor into a glass and drank it down in one gulp. Beret refused, and Mick set the bottle aside.
    “He lured your sister to Denver to set her up as a prostitute?” Mick asked Beret. “I believe there’s a law against that.”
    “That’s a lie. She followed me.”
    “Only she got here first,” Beret said.
    Teddy glared at her. “You know she lived with the judge, not with me. Maybe he’s the one who set her up as a whore.”
    “That is a disgusting thing to say, even for you, Edward. Did you kill her? Couldn’t you stand the thought that after what happened she didn’t love you after all? Did she discover you were a humbug and a fraud?”
    Teddy blanched. He picked up the bottle and poured himself another drink, sloshing the liquor on the table.
    Beret watched him, watched him lift the glass to his lips. Then his hand shook, and he spilled it over his shirtfront, wetting his embroidered vest. “You took that sweet child and ruined her. It was you who turned her into a whore.” The exchange exhausted her, and she felt drained.
    “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. It was her idea. I tried to talk her out of it.”
    Beret leaned forward over the table, oblivious to the fact her coat sleeve was soaked with the spilled whiskey. “No, Edward, you put her there. You ruined her. And then you tried to live off her. You put her to work and took her money.”
    “And who are you to talk? You were the one who cut her off.” Teddy leaned back, as if to get away from Beret. “I wouldn’t take what she earned.”
    “You would. Oh, you would.” She turned to Mick. “He is not above living off a woman.” At that, she slumped in her chair, as if done with him.
    Mick, who had not interfered in the exchange, turned to Teddy. “Did you kill her?”
    “God, no!”
    Beret’s head jerked up, and she started to say something, but Mick put his hand on her arm. “Where were you when she was killed? That was two weeks ago come tomorrow.”
    “I was in Leadville. There’s men there will vouch for me. I’ll give you their names. I wouldn’t hurt her. I loved her.”
    Beret stared at Teddy, her face like stone. She had never heard him say that, and the remark pierced her as if it were a knife slicing through a peach. She started to retort, but she could not. She hurt too much. She dug her nails into her palms so she would not cry.
    It was Mick’s turn now, and he hit the man with a barrage of questions. Teddy admitted that he had arrived in Denver months earlier, had followed Lillie to the city. He swore he wasn’t the one who’d set her up at the House of Dreams, but when Mick asked how he supported himself, he said that Lillie had “loaned” him money. He hadn’t known she was dead until after her funeral, he said.
    “You were heard telling Miss Osmundsen not to see some man. Who was the man?”
    “Who told you that?” Teddy asked.
    “One of the girls at Miss Hettie’s. Who was the john?”
    “An old man. She teased me about him, said he wanted to marry her. She wouldn’t tell me his name. Maybe she made it up.”
    After Mick finished his questions, he waved the man away. Teddy stood and stared down at Beret. “Beret,