“They haven’t found out about you, have they?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve been threatened,” she said in a hushed voice.
He looked concerned. “By who?”
Words spilled out as she found herself feeling more desperate. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. I saw two men in here and I think they had something to do with Lieutenant Spencer disappearing, and then there was a note on my pillow saying they know who I am and that if I tell anyone about knowing what I know, that they will expose me and set up Clark as a spy.”
Billy clutched her shoulders. “Slow down, Eva. What is it you know?”
“Remember when I told you about overhearing talk on the ship about the Japanese fleet? Well, Clark actually told me. We became friendly because we were some of the only ones not seasick. But that’s all he told me, that he and the radio fella had picked up signals several nights in a row. He seemed very bothered by it, and I know he turned in a report when we docked, but then nothing happened.”
Getting it out caused her to feel so much better.
“How do you know he turned in a report?” Billy asked.
“He told me.”
A vein in his neck pulsed. “Christ, Eva, were you seeing him once you landed?”
“No! Nothing like that, but he was here at Tripler full of shrapnel and nearly dead, and then yesterday he up and vanished. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”
In that moment, he felt like a stranger in a uniform. Maybe he was.
Billy bit his lower lip, said nothing for a time, then, “So you have no idea where he went?”
“No one here does.”
“Not a lot you can do at this point,” he said.
That revved her up. “Someone has to do something. My friend is missing. He had information that could have prevented the so-called surprise attack, and you want me to do nothing?”
“Nothing you say can turn back the clock and save our men. And what about you and your career? Doesn’t that mean anything? If the army finds out that you lied, you’re done here. And Ruby...” He left the thought hanging between them.
They stood face-to-face. Billy looking angrier than he ought to be, and Eva feeling more anxious than ever.
“Please, can you help me find Clark?” she pleaded.
His face hardened. “Sounds to me like Clark was more than just your friend.”
She looked over at Brandy, who was sitting under the tree watching them. One paw was crossed over the other, one ear bent. Either way, Eva was a liar.
“Nothing happened between us, if that’s what you mean. I care about him, period. If Grace or Judy went missing, I’d be concerned, too.”
His eyes bored into her. “Tell me he has nothing to do with you turning down my proposal,” he said, spitting onto the dirt next to Brandy.
Eva didn’t like where this was headed. “I told you the army has rules. No married nurses.”
“A yes doesn’t have to mean immediately,” he said.
“This is not the time nor the place for this conversation, Billy.”
“A guy like Clark wouldn’t tell just anyone about sensitive information. So with all those people on the ship, why would he single you out with the radio intel? I’m not buying it,” he said.
Eva stood up straighter. “Because we had developed a friendship, that’s why.”
“Men and women don’t have friendships for fuck’s sake.”
He kicked a fallen coconut and instead of going straight, it shot past Brandy. She leaped up and scooted off under a bush.
“Settle down, will you?” Eva said.
“You may as well just come clean,” he said.
“Stop,” she pleaded.
“What do you expect me to do? Smile and say ‘Sure, Evelyn, let me help you find your lover boy and the three of us can live happily ever after.’ I had a bad feeling about him from the beginning.”
Brandy peered out from under a fern, panting. Her eyes fixed on Billy.
Eva said, “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong. But I don’t have another ounce of energy to argue or explain things right now. How about we both get back to work and talk this weekend?”
He smacked his own forehead and sweat flew everywhere. “Brilliant idea! Put me off a little longer. That’s just swell.”
“It’s not my intention.”
“Lying seems to be your strong suit, so how do I know you’re not lying to me now?” He grabbed her upper arm and twisted it, pinching the skin.
Eva tried to shake herself away, but his grip was iron. “Ouch, let go!”
The half-cocked look on his face made her wonder what had gotten into him. America was now at war, she was in danger of losing her new job, Clark was missing and now Billy seemed to be coming apart at the seams. Her head felt like it wasn’t screwed on straight.
After a few seconds, he released her. “Fine, but if you do find Lieutenant Spencer, you let me know, okay?”
The way he said it caused a shiver to run down her spine. “Billy—”
“If I were you, I’d take those threats seriously,” he said and turned and stomped off through the grass.
* * *
Instead of going back to work, Eva waited until Billy was long gone and then took Brandy toward the administration building down the street. Someone there had to know about the Dungeon. Armed men patrolled the streets, soot covered everything and birds shone iridescent with oil. Every so often a gunshot rang out in the air. War had made its mark and there would be no turning back. On Billy, too. He felt like a different person from the cocksure officer she’d known back home.
When they reached the building, a guard who looked no older than sixteen held up his rifle and pointed it right at her. “Stop there, ma’am.”
“I’m a nurse. Would you mind lowering that, please?” she said.
He dipped his gun and nodded back toward Tripler. “Hospital’s back that way.”
“I’m here on business. One of our patients disappeared and they sent me to see if he reported back for work. He has shrapnel near his heart and if he moves around he could die, but he doesn’t know that. I have to find him.”
“Sorry, but this area is off-limits.”
Eva took a step closer. “Do I look Japanese to you? You think I might be a spy, is that it?”
“No, ma’am, just following orders.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” she said.
He gave her a curious look. “Sure.”
“Following orders is important, but every now and then you have to think for yourself. Lieutenant Spencer may die if I don’t find him. Do you want that on your conscience?”
The young man blinked. “You got ID?”
Eva held up her badge. He studied it as though it were an impossible riddle, long enough that Eva began tapping her foot. Finally, he said, “Follow this walkway until you see a door, then go down the stairs. Give a knock on the steel vault below and wait until someone comes for you. Never been in there but I know they don’t like visitors.”
Eva started around.
“You can’t take that dog.”
Why was everyone so against dogs?
“Will you watch her, then?”
“No, ma’am.”
She looked at his name tag. “Look, Private Knox, I am on your side, Brandy here is a mascot for the boys at Hickam, half of whom were blown to pieces. Can you please help me out?”
He glanced at Brandy, who seemed to be smiling up at him.
“Fine, but make it fast.”
Around the side of the building, Eva saw an unmarked door. It looked like it might open to a furnace room or trash area, but she tried it anyway. A set of stairs littered with stuffed bags descended downward. She entered. With each step down, the temperature plummeted. She wasn’t even sure she was
in the right place, but at the bottom, there was a vault-like door that belonged in a bank. She knocked, half expecting Clark to open up, pull her in and tell her it had all been a big mistake. The ships really had been trawlers—airplanes had checked—and the shrapnel had come out just fine and he was back at work cracking important codes. If only.
The space was silent as a tomb. No noise from the inside, no sounds creeping in from the outside. When it seemed as though no one was coming, she pounded again, harder. Thirty seconds later, the door swung open. A bulldog of a man took one look at her and said, “You must be lost.”
“I’m looking for Lieutenant Clark Spencer,” she said.
His eyes passed over her. “You a friend or is this business?”
“Both.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but he’s in the hospital, took some hits on Sunday.”
“Yes, I know. I was his nurse, but he’s gone missing.”
His forehead wrinkled. “Missing?”
“No one saw him leave, nor was he taken to the morgue as far as we know. We thought he may have come back here, or maybe contacted one of you.”
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Eva Cassidy. I met Clark coming over on the Lurline and we became friends,” she said, watching his face closely. Neither her name nor Lurline caused a reaction.
He motioned her in. “I tell you what, Eva, I’ll ask the other guys if anyone has heard from him. Have a seat over here at my desk. I’m Chief Petty Officer Cory.”
Smoke filled every nook in the cavernous room and by the looks of it, they didn’t believe in trash cans. Paper was strewed everywhere, maps and charts wallpapered the walls, and men crouched over desks, scribbling furiously. Eva sat on her hands to keep them warm. Cory went over and consulted with a man in an orange smoking jacket and house slippers.
The man came over. “I’m Ford. You say Lieutenant Spencer is missing?”
Ford was almost as tall as Clark, but half his mass. With wavy brown hair neatly trimmed, he was the classic idea of what an officer should look like, except for the smoking jacket over his uniform and the bags under his eyes.
“I don’t know if missing is the exact word for it, but he left the hospital and we don’t know where he went,” she said.
“Two things I know about Clark. One is he’s sharp as hell and two is he loves his job over most things. If he were out of the hospital, he would get in here as soon as he could. He must have been transferred, or...” he said.
The implication stood there between them like a silent scream.
“You think he’s dead, is that it?” Eva said.
His face clouded over. “I haven’t been inside Tripler, but I saw the mayhem outside there on Sunday. With that amount of casualties, bodies are bound to get lost.”
Eva was tempted to gush on about the radio signals, the two men lurking and the threats. If Ford was Clark’s boss, he probably already knew. “He survived two surgeries and as of yesterday seemed like he was going to make it. Not in any kind of shape to be walking around town, mind you, but alive. Perhaps he went home?” she said.
The chances of that were about zero, but she had to ask.
Cory jumped in. “He’s not.”
“How do you know?” Eva asked.
“Because I live next door.”
“Would you at least check? Maybe he went in while you weren’t there.”
Ford nodded to Cory. “Go check.”
Cory grabbed his keys from the desk drawer and left without a word. Now that Eva was alone with Ford, she decided to feel him out. “Did Clark say much to you about the trip home on the Lurline?”
“I hardly saw him, and we talked about the latest goings-on here. Why?” Ford said, meeting her gaze and holding steady.
“Just wondering.”
“Is there something I should know?” he pressed.
Eva stood. Not knowing who to trust meant she couldn’t trust anyone. “Nothing at all. I need to be getting back to the hospital. Please send word as soon as you know if he’s at home.”
“I will. And likewise if you find him.”
THE SMELL OF LIES
September 22, 1941
The day after Tommy Lemon died, Evelyn showed up for work at Hollowcreek as she would any other morning. No one had told her to do otherwise and she was ready to stand up for herself against these awful accusations. Dressed in starched whites, hair pulled into a tight knot at the base of her neck, hat pinned on tightly. No one could accuse her of missing a shift or calling in sick out of fear or guilt. And, anyway, wasn’t it innocent until proven guilty?
Coming up the pathway, she had been so wrapped up reciting her defense that she failed to notice a gang of men lurking around the front door, leaning on the railing smoking cigarettes. The smell was what caught her attention. As she approached, one of them pointed and they all jumped to attention.
“You’re Evelyn Olson, aren’t you?” a jowly man said.
Another man held up a camera and started clicking. All at once they descended on her like a pack of wild dogs. Tell us in your own words, how did you kill Tommy Lemon? Did you really run out of the room? Rumor has it you got your drugs mixed up, care to comment? Everyone knows women are not meant to be doctors, what makes you think you’re any different?
The ground swayed under her feet and a flash went off in her face. She held her forearm across her eyes and tried to push through them. “This is all a big mistake,” she said.
“Tell that to Jed Lemon,” one said.
A man with a twirled and waxed mustache was suddenly in her face. “You’re Lon Olson’s daughter, aren’t you? Probably a good thing he ain’t around to see this.”
Up until this moment, Evelyn’s life had been tame enough to never attract extra attention, especially from reporters. There had been the time when her father delivered Mrs. Finley’s quadruplets on a sheet in the library, or when John Lockerbie climbed into the church tower naked and her dad had been the only one able to talk him down. Reporters had visited their house then, but to see Evelyn’s father, not Evelyn.
“If my father were here, he would know exactly what went wrong and why,” she said.
“Tell us, Miss Olson. What went wrong?”
The men all held their pens to paper. Oh, she was tempted to blurt out the truth. But until she knew what she was dealing with, and the accusations made against her, she would hold her tongue. “No comment.”
“Are you prepared for a trial?” one asked.
“A trial?” she asked.
“Negligent homicide.”
This was outrageous. Evelyn waved them off and stormed into the hospital, heading directly for Dr. Brown’s office. She had no idea what she was going to say to him, other than she had to look him in the eye and demand an answer. People steered clear as she passed, and at the nurses’ station, all conversations ceased.
“Where’s Dr. Brown?” Evelyn asked the bunch of them.
She had that “nothing left to lose” feeling, which seemed to be a case of recklessness and courage and freedom all wrapped into one big brave package. The nurses scurried around, pretending to look for files or medicine or anything to avoid having to look her in the eye.
Joyce Hunter said, “In his office, but I wouldn’t go in there.”
Evelyn ignored her and continued on. She was beyond caring what anyone said. This was her lifeblood and reputation they were talking about, and someone had gone and trampled on it. The door was closed. She knocked.
“I’m busy,” he grumbled.
She opened the door anyway. “It’s me, Doctor.”
He was crouched over his desk, scribbling notes. When he saw who it was, he scowled. “I have nothing to say to you. Go away.”
Anyone could tell that he had hit the bottle last night, again. Shaky hands, patchwork skin that
howled with redness and eyelids like piles of rope. What little gray hair he had left was matted to his head. And to think that this was acceptable from the head physician at the hospital. No one had ever challenged him.
That was about to change.
Evelyn took a deep breath. “Dr. Brown, I just had to fight off a crowd of reporters asking how I killed Tommy Lemon and talking about a trial and negligent homicide. My question to you is, Why me?”
He kept writing and didn’t answer, so she continued.
“I wasn’t even in that room when he died. And you and I both know I said not to use the sodium thiopental. The other nurse heard, too. How could you do this?”
Without looking up, he said, “Are you a doctor?”
“No, but I’m an anesthetist.”
“Like I’ve said to you a hundred times before, you don’t tell me what to do.”
Her palms pressed into her thighs. “Even if what you’re doing will kill someone? Sorry, Doctor, but your God complex—or maybe it’s your alcoholism—has made you blind.”
She felt a giddy surge as the words spilled out. Words that had been there all along, locked away but aching to be free. From this day forth, so help her God, she would speak her mind if it meant saving a life. So many doctors held to the notion that because they had been doing something for thirty years, they knew best. That kind of thinking stifled progress and led to dangerous mistakes.
A dark shade of red spread from his ears to his nose. “Why, you disrespectful little whore.”
“At least I’m not a liar. We both know the truth, and I’m going to make sure it gets told,” she said.
An ugly smile seeped across his face. “You think anyone will believe you?”
More than ever, Evelyn wished that her father were still alive. He would have gone head-to-head with Brown and he was on good terms with Jed Lemon. But Dr. Brown had already pointed the finger, and now it was frozen in her direction. The whole room had blurred but Dr. Brown came into sharp focus, a lifetime of bitterness etched into his face. The wrong priorities would do that to a person.
“They won’t have a choice,” she said.
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