Page 147 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Soaked to the Bone

coincidental; computers are just about able to do this from
photographs, but Ms. Gramercy was way ahead of them, completely
undeceived by makeup, cultural or idiosyncratic aspects of
appearance and the effects on Alma of years of hard work cleaning
up after the wealthy and careless]
Alma: Yes, I did it to protect you, Fern! Fish would have ruined
you, as he ruined so many others. You were so innocent
you could not see what he was up to, where you were
headed! I was the maid for the Grotteaus when I became
pregnant. They had no children, and agreed to take you if
I stayed away from you forever. I could not. I have
always been near, taking jobs wherever you were. When
you decided to pursue your crazy dream of being in the
movies, I took this job to be in the same city. I had been
here for months when, one day, Fish brought you up
here. You cannot imagine my emotions. I knew his
character, you did not. But I could not tell you, I never
wanted you to feel the shame of knowing you were my
daughter. There was no other way. I had to protect you,
Fern. Please forgive me.
Fern: No! I can’t believe it!
Alma: But I will not trouble you further. [Reaches in her shoulder
bag] My knife! Where is it?
Labelle: I confiscated it earlier, Ms. del Banco, when your bag fell
off the counter. [So her awkward trick with the photographs
was also a deeper deception—so much for my vaunted powers of
observation!]
Alma: [A stream of Spanish, not polite, I think; she focused on Labelle
as the source of her torment, and took a swing at her with what
looked like a bottle; the policewoman grabbed her wrist, swung the
lunging attacker around with her own momentum; a crash of glass
on tile, more noise from all quarters, and I was pushed aside by the
inrush of officialdom]

So it ended, and I did have lunch that day. Of course, it didn’t end
for the rest of Fish’s entourage, but my time and attention were soon
absorbed utterly by Wynn Luce. Maybe my allure was enhanced by
my little part in the foregoing drama, but—what the hell, any little

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