dull, nobody. Never married, never had a lover. As Eunice Parker who used to be , I have all those things, at least in people's imaginations. And I get lots of attention." "And you fooled me," he said, his tone was still bitter. "Are you going to tell?" she asked. "Are you going to tell that Butch Cassidy came to visit you?" he countered. She have to tell. Mrs. Foster and Freddy Wisenhut would assume, and the word wouldn’t would be spread. Eunice in would go up one more notch. Parker’s reputation Before Bill Phillips was even at the end of the block, Eunice Parker was brushing the gray powder out of her hair. She threw the glasses in a wastebasket. Less than six months later Eunice boardinghouse went up in flames late one Parker’s evening. The boarders, including the talkative Mrs. Foster, escaped, but Eunice perished. Fire officials speculated that she had been smoking in bed and had fallen asleep, and gossips in town whispered that it was typical of to be smoking in bed. “her kind” the death to Phillips, although he was no longer a client. It was, they Pinkerton’s reported said, a professional courtesy they extended. For the rest of his life—and it was neither long nor satisfactory—Phillips wondered about the identity of the woman visited in . A nagging he’d doubt bothered him—could she really have been Etta?
dull, nobody. Never married, never had a lover. As Eunice Parker who used to be , I have all those things, at least in people's imaginations. And I get lots of attention." "And you fooled me," he said, his tone was still bitter. "Are you going to tell?" she asked. "Are you going to tell that Butch Cassidy came to visit you?" he countered. She wouldn’t have to tell. Mrs. Foster and Freddy Wisenhut would assume, and the word would be spread. Eunice Parker’s reputation in would go up one more notch. Before Bill Phillips was even at the end of the block, Eunice Parker was brushing the gray powder out of her hair. She threw the glasses in a wastebasket. Less than six months later Eunice Parker’s boardinghouse went up in flames late one evening. The boarders, including the talkative Mrs. Foster, escaped, but Eunice perished. Fire officials speculated that she had been smoking in bed and had fallen asleep, and gossips in town whispered that it was typical of “her kind” to be smoking in bed. Pinkerton’s reported the death to Phillips, although he was no longer a client. It was, they said, a professional courtesy they extended. For the rest of his life—and it was neither long nor satisfactory—Phillips wondered about the identity of the woman he’d visited in . A nagging doubt bothered him—could she really have been Etta?