She was a moderately attractive woman. She looked to be in her early thirties; a slightly older version of Rose.
“Hello, ma’am,” I said, returning the smile. “Are you Madeleine Pepper?”
She got a very suspicious look on her face. “Who wants to know?”
“My name is Jacob Randall. I used to go see your sister sing at the Cherokee Club.”
She rolled her eyes. I couldn’t tell if she thought I was lying about that or if it was for some other reason.
“And I suppose you want me to arrange a meeting with her, huh?” she asked harshly.