“Oh, you did?” Mrs. O’Malley exclaimed. “Miss LaMotte and Miss Lake had the lead act at the Star and Garter for the longest time, y’know. ‘The Naughty, Naughty Sisters,’ they called themselves. Real classy burlesque. That’s where Mr. Capone ran into ’em, o’ course.”

“Is that right?” Verna said in a marveling tone. “Well, gracious sakes.” The Naughty, Naughty Sisters? They had obviously changed the act.

“Yes, and after that, they was all as thick as thieves for a year or more, Mr. Capone and his friends and Miss LaMotte and Miss Lake. Which is what makes it so hard. They was friends! And then he sent one of his thugs over here to cut both of ’em up. And poor Miss Lake—” She gulped back a sniffle, then broke into sobs. “Poor Miss Lake!”

“But she’s lucky it wasn’t worse, don’t you think?” Verna said in a comforting tone. “Why, she might have been killed!”

Noisily, Mrs. O’Malley blew her nose. “Oh, aye! And her such a brave little dear, too. Why, after it happened—and after Miss LaMotte pulled out her gun and shot that brute, y’ know—she wouldn’t for the longest time let me call a doctor. All we could do was try and stop the bleeding until she finally gave in. And when he came and told her she ought to be in the hospital, she refused, o’ course, because the doctors in the hospital, just like everybody else in this town, are all in cahoots wi’ the Capone gang.”

Shot that brute? Verna was taken aback. She tried to get a word in edgewise but without success as Mrs. O’Malley took a deep breath and hurried on.

“I know those stitches all over her pretty cheeks are big and clumsy and I’m sure there’ll be terrible scars, which o’ course means that her dancin’ career is over. But I canna blame the doctor, poor young man. Miss Lake was screamin’ her lungs out and all we had to give her was whiskey, and he was in a hurry to get it over with because we all thought the thug might come back and try to finish the job while he was there, sewin’ her up, and Miss LaMotte, standin’ over ’em both with her gun, just in case.” One more breath. “Still, I think I could’ve done better with that needle m’self. Everybody says they ain’t nivver seen quilting stitches as pretty as mine.”

Finally, Verna got a chance to break in. “That was very brave of Miss LaMotte,” she said. “To shoot the fellow, I mean. It’s a good thing she had the gun handy.” What kind of gun, she wondered. Where was it now? But she couldn’t think of a way to ask those indelicate questions. Instead, she said, “Was he badly wounded, do you know?”