Daniel Klein by Blue Suede Clues: A Murder Mystery Featuring Elvis Presley Page B

put in—Elvis’s gift to the clinic last Christmas.
    â€œWell, as I live and breathe,” Billy said as he came on the phone. “How are you doing, Mr. P.?”
    â€œOkay, Billy. How about yourself?” Elvis said. God, it was good to hear Billy’s voice again.
    â€œMiddling to fair,” Billy said with a laugh. “We’ve got ourselves a new strain of flu down here. Virus must come from all those Northern kids buzzing around town registering us colored folks to vote.”
    â€œThe bad with the good, huh?”
    â€œBad’s worth the good in this case,” Billy said.

    â€œAmen to that,” Elvis said. Then, “I see you’ve got a new nurse working for you.”
    â€œThat I do, Elvis,” Billy said softly, a tenderness in his voice. The man knew instinctively how hearing the new girl’s voice must have affected Elvis. “I put flowers out in the cemetery every week like you asked,” Billy went on. “And I speak your love to Selma.”
    â€œI truly appreciate that, Billy,” Elvis said, his eyes spontaneously filling up.
    â€œSo what can I do for you, Mr. P.?” Billy asked, sounding sunny again.
    Elvis swallowed hard. “I want to ask a favor,” he said.
    â€œShoot.”
    â€œI need to locate a woman named Connie Spinelli,” Elvis said. “She’s in Atlanta working in a beauty parlor. That’s all I know. But I’d like you to find her and tell her to call me immediately. Collect, of course. Or get her number and I’ll call. Tell her it’s important. Somebody’s life depends on it.”
    â€œI see,” Billy said.
    â€œI know you’re busy, Billy,” Elvis went on. “So you just tell me if you can’t do it and I’ll understand.”
    â€œIt sounds like something I could make the time for,” Billy said.
    â€œI appreciate that, Billy,” Elvis said. “I’ll wire you money for the fare and expenses.”
    â€œCould be one little problem though,” Billy said. “Miss Spinelli is white, I imagine. And it’s going to take more than a few hundred Northern kids to change the way they do business in Atlanta. I’m not sure how welcome a black man is going to be in a white woman’s beauty salon. I’m willing to try, though.”
    â€œThat’s all any of us can do,” Elvis said. “Try and try again.”
    â€œSo tell me, Mr. P., does this mean you’re back in the detective business again?” Billy laughed.
    â€œJust playing at it,” Elvis said, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. “You know, Billy, one time when I was feeling awful foolish about snooping around those fan-club murders, I told Selma that the worst thing about doing detective work was that it made me feel so good.
So alive, you know. And Selma said to me that working for you made her feel good for the same reason. Because doing things for other people has a way of getting you outside yourself, and the more outside yourself you get, the more alive you feel inside. I’ve never forgotten that.”
    â€œShe was one wise woman,” Billy said. “God bless her.”
    â€œI miss her terrible, friend,” Elvis said softly.
    â€œI know that, Elvis. But tell me honestly, how are you doing otherwise?”
    For some reason, tears welled up in Elvis’s eyes again. He had to wait a couple of seconds before answering.
    â€œI’ll tell you, Billy, it’s not just Selma’s sweetness I miss,” Elvis said quietly. “It’s the sweetness in my own soul. Sometimes … sometimes I think it’s all dried up on me.”
    â€œI know that feeling,” Billy said, and then, “Say, you want to hear a song?”
    â€œA song?”
    â€œYup, a new one to me. Heard it in church last Sunday.”
    â€œWhen did you start going to church, Billy?”
    â€œI just go for the music,” Billy said,