by Tricia Goyer
“Okay, kid. Get some sleep.” Irene gave her a hug. “We’re supposed to be there early for rehearsal.” Then she stepped back and swept her arms around the room, mimicking Mickey. “Girls. Girls. Come on, work with me, we got a big show tomorrow.”
Betty laughed along with the others, but deep down her heart still ached from Kat’s words. She shut the door behind her retreating friends and then hurried to her bed, refusing to look at Kat. Refusing to let Kat see her tears.
Maybe she knows what she’s talking about. She’s been in this business a long time. Maybe Frank doesn’t like me as much as he’s letting on. Maybe he’s just using me to get to the other girls—to get their photos. To get closer to Kat.
Frank finished up his breakfast and then carried his dirty tin to the scullery, adding it to a pile of others. Then he hurried toward the exit, eager to finish developing his rolls of film and get them to HQ. After his work was done, he could head up to the opera house to see Betty. His steps paused, though, when he noticed a sign posted at the door that he hadn’t seen yesterday.
Need your high school diploma? Classes every afternoon. Sign-up at HQ. Don’t head home a dummy.
Frank scratched his chin.
“Thinking about signing up?” A soldier stood beside him.
“Yeah, I’m thinking about it. I dropped out my senior year to join up.”
“So did a lot of us. My bunkmate says a hundred and seventy guys have already signed up. There aren’t many spots left.”
“A hundred and seventy? You kidding?”
“Nope.”
“I guess that makes me feel better. Shows I’m not the only dope around here.”
The man pointed to Frank’s uniform. “Well, from those two Battle Stars and the Purple Heart, I doubt anyone would think you’re a dope.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to be smart to get shot at.” Frank chuckled. “While I’d love to get back to the States, I don’t want to go before I can get a good job.”
The man nodded in agreement. “For the last two years, I’ve lived in overcrowded barracks. Here, it’s an overcrowded house. I can’t even imagine going back home and moving in with my parents and all my brothers and sisters and their spouses. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah.” Frank nodded and smiled, even if that wasn’t his case at all. His mom and dad were the only ones left, and he knew they’d be heartbroken if he didn’t want to move home—for at least a while. A sadness washed over him as he thought of Lily. He couldn’t imagine being back home without his sister. Lily had always been the sunshine in their family. The passionate, laughing one. The one that took a joke and gave it back. Sort of like Betty.
He looked at the poster again. I need to start thinking of what type of life I can offer a wife someday. The thought both scared and excited him. It scared him because he’d always questioned if his work in the war would bring danger to those he cared about. It excited him because now he had a chance to work toward that independence. Signing up for these classes would be a good thing, even if his future missus wasn’t the pretty songbird who’d recently caught his interest.
The other guy left, and Frank headed into the street with a lighter step. He knew he only had an hour’s worth of developing work, and he would sign up for the classes when he dropped the film off—since they were in the same building. He just hoped he didn’t miss a spot on the roster.
Back at his place, he finished developing the film in Art’s darkroom. He waited for the photos to dry, and then he packaged them up for Henry. He couldn’t figure out why the country needed to use his talents to take pictures of singing girls, but that wasn’t his call. He figured Marv had another assignment that he’d had to keep from everyone else, including Art.
Headquarters, he discovered, had taken over a large building that used to be the mayor’s office. He found the right office and knocked at the door.
“Come in!”
Frank was only partially surprised when he saw Denzel Bailey, Marv’s right-hand man, sitting behind the desk. Frank had spent a lot of time with Denzel in England. They’d been assigned to the same base, and both favored walking around, seeing the city, and touring the countryside, rather than picking up girls, which meant they’d hung out together a lot. Denzel had tagged along on a number of Frank’s assignments when he’d photographed suspicious people in and around London. Of course, Denzel hadn’t a clue as to what Frank had really been up to.
“Hey, Frank. Didn’t expect you to be in so early. You had all day to get those photos in.”
“Yeah, well, I thought I’d get a head start—gives me time to get back to the Festspielhaus. I didn’t know you were in Bayreuth.”
Denzel shrugged. “For the time being. Who knows how long I’ll be here. This is my fourth German town in the same number of months. Seems like the American public is still hungry for news and photos of what Germany’s like after the war.” He shrugged. “Maybe it helps them feel better to see things worse off over here, especially when so many have sacrificed so much.”
“Well, if you talk to Marv, tell him thanks a lot for the assignment. How am I ever going to find a serious job after telling my future employers that while the trials were going on in Nuremberg, and the Russians were being bullies in Berlin, I was shooting girls in evening gowns? Man, the most exciting thing I’ve seen so far was when our transport plane almost went down coming in to Nuremberg.”
“Are you kidding? It’s big news that Katherine Wiseman’s over here singing for the troops. Everyone likes to see photos of stars in combat boots, even if there’s no combat going on.”
“That might be true, but she’s leaving tomorrow. Then what?”
“Well—then you need to start grooming some new stars. Treat the other girls like they’re the hottest thing coming down the pipeline and to the American public, they will be.” Denzel opened the large envelope and started glancing through the images that Frank had taken. “Pretty girls, all of them. Not one of them looks like they’ve been hit with an ugly stick—speaking of which, Marv wanted to know how you like that new singer.”
“Do you mean Betty?”
“Yeah, sure, Betty sounds right. I don’t remember. All I know is that when Marv came back from USO tryouts in Los Angles he was all talk about some young thing that was going to capture ol’ Frank’s heart.”
Frank crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “I guessed that. But I don’t understand. Why has Marv taken such an interest in my case? I’m just one photographer in a thousand; what does my happiness mean to him?”
Denzel’s face dropped. “You’re kidding, right? Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
Denzel motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “You better sit.” He rubbed his temples with his fingertips.
“Sit? Denzel, what’s going on?”
Denzel pointed to the chair again, and Frank had no choice but to sit.
Denzel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, no longer interested in the photos.
“I don’t know why Marv didn’t tell you himself, maybe it hurt too bad to talk about it. But personally I think you have a right to know.” Denzel took in a deep breath and then released it slowly. “Marv made a promise to Lily, see.”
“Lily?” Frank furrowed his brow. “My sister?”
“Marv was sweet on her—had been since they first met at an airbase in New York. They wrote often, and over the years their friendship grew into something more.”
“You have to be joking. I’m sure Lily would have told me—” Frank’s voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard. “Then again, my sister kept her personal life personal. She never did tell me what guys she was sweet on—said she was always afraid I would try to butt in.”
“Yeah, that’s my guess too. Since you knew Marv—worked with him—maybe she wanted things to happen natural-like, and not because her kid brother gave the thumbs up. Or didn’t happen because he gave the thumbs down.”
“I still don’t understand.” F
rank’s throat felt raw. He could see his sister’s face in his mind. She’d been too young to die. She’d had so much potential. “What was the promise about?”
“Well, Lily was worried about what you’d experienced—mostly that you’d seen a lot of war, lost a lot of friends, and didn’t have anyone to turn to. She told Marv that if he met anyone she’d approve of to make sure you got a proper introduction—or at least that’s what Marv told me.”
“So Marv put us on a plane together—and gave me this assignment?”
Frank furrowed his brow. Denzel didn’t know how many dangerous situations Frank had been in—and would no doubt continue to get himself into—but Marv did. Why would he try to set us up? Doesn’t he realize that Betty’s life could be in danger by just being around me? It made no sense.
Frank turned his attention back to Denzel, who shuffled through the photos. “It could be worse, Frank. You could have Art’s job. I hear he’s been taking photos of bombed basements.”
“Yeah.” Frank chuckled softly, but deep inside, his heart still ached with thoughts of his deceased sister. For his parents too. No one should lose a child. Even though it had happened to hundreds of thousands of families, their pain was unique to each of them.
Frank stood. “Well, thanks for letting me know. It makes me feel good that Marv thinks Betty is someone Lily would have approved of.”
Denzel glanced down at the photos again then lifted one from the stack. “Is this Betty?” he asked, examining a photo of Betty in the pink silk dress. Her arms were spread open as if she were embracing the troops, but her eyes had been looking directly into the shot.
“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “How did you know?”
“From the way she’s looking into the camera. Or more accurately, looking at the photographer holding the camera.”
Frank eyed Denzel but didn’t respond. “Yes, well, did Marv send anything for me? Uh, there were some things I left back in England and he promised to send them over.”
Denzel pursed his lips and then his eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, there’s a box with your name on it. I would have forgotten.” Denzel turned in his chair and ruffled through stacks of files on the shelf behind him. Underneath one of the stacks, there was a box.
Denzel handed it to Frank. “This came last week, before I even knew you were coming. I wonder how Marv could send things that you forgot when you hadn’t even left yet…”
Frank shrugged. “That’s why he’s the boss—always thinking ahead.” He smiled and then turned, making his exit before he could get in any more trouble.
“Have a great day. See you later.”
Frank nodded and smiled back, but from the look in his eye, Denzel didn’t fall for Frank’s poor excuse.
You’re slipping, buddy. You need to watch that. You never know who you can trust—
CHAPTER TWELVE
Frank took the box back to his house, thankful Art wasn’t there. He entered their shared bedroom and locked the door. Then he took a small knife from his pocket and opened the box. The first thing on top was a typewritten letter from Marv.
Hey buddy, looks like you made it to Bayreuth okay. It’s a nice place, don’t you think? I hope you’re enjoying your assignment. I won’t ask you about one special girl. All I can say is that I hope you open up and don’t let the events of the last year close your heart to finding love.
Okay, down to business.
I brought you here because of some letters that have been showing up at HQ. We passed the first few off as meaningless threats, maybe from someone who doesn’t like the Americans hanging around. But the more we got, the more I decided to take them seriously. Perhaps you can discover who wrote them, but even more important, why.
Frank turned Marv’s note over, but the other side was blank. It was just like Marv not to sign it. Not to sign anything that could be traced back to him.
Frank set the paper on the bed. Then he pulled out six white envelopes. All of them had been opened. All of them bore the same careful, neat script that read: to American offices. Frank opened the first one.
This message is very urgent matter. Trouble will come in next month. There are some who wish to destroy Festspielhaus. Danger is possible for those whose music plays there.
Frank read the words a second time, wishing there was more to go on.
He opened the next letter.
There are some who wish to bring much harm to Americans in Festspielhaus. Please take these threats as real. I would speak to you myself if my life were not in danger for this very reason.
What reason? He continued reading and soon realized the rest of the letters were basically the same message. There just wasn’t much to go on.
There is trouble at Festspielhaus.
People wish to do Americans harm.
I cannot come and tell you myself.
Frank put the letters back in the envelopes, and his various thoughts fought for pre-eminence in his mind.
Could Betty be in danger? Someone is trying to get his point across. This is a serious warning, not a joke. Someone is worried about the Americans.
The same person wasn’t worried about the soldiers in town, but only those at the Festspielhaus. The musicians? The singers? Who would want to do them harm? A wary smile curled on his lips as he wondered what threat women in pretty gowns and men in suits with instruments could be. The only reason he could think of that someone would try to hurt them would be to send a message—but to whom? Maybe a message that danger still lurks, and that this is still a war zone and no place for civilians?
Or the trouble comes from one of them. Someone among their ranks. Someone with a grudge.
Frank took the box and tucked it in the back of his duffle bag. He’d come back to the letters later. Then he stuck the bag under his bed, far in the back. He needed time to ponder the words, to try to make sense of the messages.
No wonder Marv wanted me here—wanted me close.
Frank’s assignment was clear—he’d have to spend more time around the Festspielhaus. More time than just during the shows when he was taking photos. While he was at HQ he had signed up for high school courses, and he hoped spending time there wouldn’t hinder his investigative work. He’d do the best he could for Marv, but he also had to think of his own future. He was ready to take a break from undercover work. Tired of keeping secrets. If he were ever going to become serious with someone, he’d have to have something to offer.
Until then, he couldn’t think of just one girl. He’d have to get to know everyone. No one was beyond suspicion.
No one was beyond suspicion—except Betty. His contradictory thoughts unsettled him, and he found himself ticking off a mental balance sheet:
The letters were delivered to HQ before Betty arrived, so she couldn’t have sent them. Then there was Marv’s approval of her. That had to be a good sign. Marv was aware of his undercover work and surely would have done a background check on her.
Since he was sure she wasn’t a suspect, it was a good reason to stick closest to her.
He could also use Betty to get close to the others.
But there was one most important factor Frank had to focus on—I just have to find out what’s going on before anyone gets hurt. Betty’s smiling face filled his mind. Especially her.
Even though they’d slept in the same room, sat at the same table at the mess hall, and walked up the hill together to the Festspielhaus, Kat hadn’t said one word to Betty since the previous evening.
Kat’s face looked as pale as it had the day before, and after their rehearsal was over, she asked Mickey if she could head back to the house to rest before the evening’s performance.
“Sure thing, Kat, just make sure you’re here an hour before curtain. I don’t want to have to send the hounds out looking for you or none of that business.”
Most of the girls stayed in the back prepping their hair and makeup and trying on the dresses Kat had agreed to leave behind. Betty was more interested in walking down to the town ce
nter. Partly because she needed some fresh air, but mostly because she wondered if Frank happened to be around. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d dropped her off the night before, and each hour that passed without his showing up at rehearsal drilled Kat’s words deeper into her heart. He’s just using you, Betty.
It was a short walk to town—in the opposite direction from their estate. The day was partly cloudy, and it was only when she was halfway down the hill that Betty started to worry it would rain. She had washed her hair last night and slept in curlers. Even though it meant she didn’t sleep as well as usual, her hair was full, with soft curls framing her face. She’d be in real trouble if rain messed up her hairdo. According to Mickey, tonight needed to be perfect.
The sun peeked out from the clouds, and Betty walked around town a little, but nothing had changed since she was there yesterday. The people were just as desperate. The buildings hadn’t magically rebuilt themselves overnight. Frank wasn’t around, and misty rain indeed started to fall.
Disappointed, she’d started to head back up the hill when a jeep filled with young GIs pulled over. She waved to them and smiled.
“Songbird!” the driver called. “Look, guys, it’s her.” He waved her over to the jeep.
Betty shyly approached. “Hi there.”
“Hey, Songbird.”
“Great singing the other night.”
“You were the best of the show, hands down.”
“Thanks, guys, I’m glad you liked it.” She lifted her palm and held it up as bigger raindrops started to fall. “I forgot my umbrella—do you think you could give me a ride up the hill?”
“Sure thing. Of course.” The driver pointed to the guy in the passenger’s seat. “Hit the back, Fred.”
Trying not to let her worries about Frank’s intentions sink her spirits, Betty chatted with the guys about that night’s show as they drove up the hill. The open-air jeep blew rain into her hair. She held her hands over it, trying to protect it as best she could, fully expecting that it was going to be a rat’s nest by the time she made it backstage.
