Page 21 of If Looks Could Kill
“I still don’t get how you’re soldiers in the Brass Band Jesus Army,” Freyda said. “Where’s your getup? The jacket, the bonnet, the red ribbons?”
“We’re incognito,” I explained. “In disguise, to find that girl.”
“Salvation incognito,” Freyda said approvingly. She dug in her pockets looking for something. “Wait. You’re not going to try to saveme, are you?”
Pearl shook her head. “No. We don’t try to convert Jews.”
Freyda gave Pearl a frozen look. “This is one of those moments,” she said slowly, “where I don’t know if I should say ‘thanks’ or ‘nuts to you.’ I’m not good enough for your Jesus?”
“It’s not like that,” I said quickly. “We’re not looking to change anyone’sreligion. If someone’s Episcopalian, we want them to stay Episcopalian. Baptists, stay Baptist. Catholics, stay Catholic. Jews, stay Jewish. We just want the people who haven’t felt like they’re welcome in any of the Christian churches—because they’re too poor, can’t afford a pew; too sinful, can’t change; that sort of thing—we want them to have a place to come find Jesus.”
Freyda watched me through narrowed eyes. “And that’s it?”
I nodded. “That’s it.”
“You’re Christians, then.”
“Supposedly,” I told her. Pearl groaned.
“But you’re not looking to Christ-ify me?”
I laughed. “Only if you really beg us to.”
She cocked her head to one side. “And if I don’t?”
“Then that’s a lot less work for me,” I said, “and we can be pals.”
Pearl looked stricken. She would like to Christ-ify the universe and its pet poodle, but I was quoting Commander Ballington Booth’s words, and I stood by them.
Freyda Gorbady handed me a grimy typewritten card from her pocket.FREYDA GORBADY, INVESTIGATIVE REPORTER, it read, with an address printed below.
“I want to write about you two,” she said. “Shadow you. Run a feature. ‘A Day in the Life of a Hallelujah Lass: An Undercover Study.’ The public would eat it up like ice cream.”
“Undercover?” asked Pearl. “Will you pretend to be one of us?”
“Nixey,” Freyda said. Then her eyes grew wide. “But wouldn’t that be something? I could pull it off. What a fizzer! Old Pulitzer would have to print me then, wouldn’t he?”
“Let’s stick with plan A,” I said, laughing. “You can shadow us.”
Pearl made a squeaking sound in her throat. I could read her like a book. She had no idea whether or not this would be allowed. I needed to sweeten the deal to sell this to Pearl Davenport.
“If,”I added, “you use your investigative skills to help us find the girl we’re looking for.”
Freyda rubbed her chin with ink-stained fingers. “Got to pay the racket, haven’t I?” A thought seemed to strike her. “You want to find this girl so you canpreachto her?”
“No!” I said, then lowered my voice. “No. We just want to help her.”
“Help her what?”
“Look,” I said, “if we can get her ear for two minutes alone and she tells us she’s where she wants to be, we won’t trouble her any further, all right? But if she’s not, then maybe someone on the outside can help her get back home.”
Freyda studied us. “I don’t get it,” she said at length. “Gotham’s full of lost souls. Whythisgirl? What’s special about her?”
I looked to see if Pearl wanted to answer, but she seemed stricken. It was up to me.
“We feel responsible for her.” I knew the words sounded foolish.
Freyda watched me curiously.
