Ty opened the door and she walked over the threshold, holding as much of her smugness at bay as possible. She wasn’t trying to be conceited, but it did feel good to be seen out and about.
“Hello, Norma Rose,” Peter Alvin said from behind the little caged window in the center of the room.
“Hello, Peter,” she responded. Despite the adventure of it all, she remembered her purpose. Walking straight to the ticket booth, each footstep echoing off the walls, she asked, “Is Ginger still here?”
“Ginger?” Peter repeated. “I haven’t seen Ginger in ages. Was she supposed to be here?”
There was nothing in his stance or gaze to make her question his honesty. Stopping near the booth, she noted there wasn’t even a hint of sweat on his bald head. Norma Rose knew the signs of someone trying to cover up the truth.
“Yes,” she said. “I asked her to come over and inquire about ticket prices for some guests. You’re sure you haven’t seen her?”
“I’m sure.” Peter’s deep-sunk eyes were totally clear; if anything, they only held concern. “I’ve been here since seven this morning.”
Norma Rose nodded, not sure what to say next.
Ty rested an elbow on the little shelf in front of the ticket window. “How many trains do you get through here in a day?”
“Twelve. But only four stop,” Peter said. “Three freight and one passenger.”
“What time are the freight trains?”
Peter glanced at Norma Rose.
Drawing up one of her many false smiles, she nodded. “He’s a friend.” No one in the tight-knit community of Bald Eagle gave out information freely. Especially to strangers.
“I’m looking to have some personal items shipped here,” Ty added.
Peter nodded and began a lengthy explanation of train times, destinations and prices. Norma Rose pretended to be listening while scanning the long, narrow and rather sterile building, wondering about hiding places. White walls and white floor tiles, which needed a good scrubbing, gave way to two long benches and two restrooms, in addition to the ticket booth and a small office behind it.
Unless she was hiding in a bathroom, which was highly unlikely as there was no reason for Peter to lie, Ginger wasn’t here. It was all so hard to believe. Ginger had talked about Hollywood, but had never given the slightest hint she would run away. What was she hoping to gain? The resort offered everything possible. Food, clothing, shelter, all the best. Though each of the sisters were expected to work each day, it was minimal, five to six hours at most, and they were paid a full wage, more than any other girls their age made. They didn’t need to spend any of it, either. Father gave them money whenever they asked. He never questioned if it was for clothes or makeup or glossy magazines.
Norma Rose was the one that had to do that, in order to limit their frivolous spending. Money hadn’t always come so easily, and she tried her best to make them understand that.
“Norma Rose?”
“Sorry,” she said, spinning to gaze up at Ty. “I thought I heard a train whistle.”
“I did, too,” he said, with a grin that said he didn’t quite believe her. “Peter here has given me all the information I need. Shall we go and watch the train roll in and see the passengers board?”
“Yes,” she agreed. Crazy, that’s what this was, the way she was enjoying herself. Pretending this was no more than a simple outing. She hadn’t had an outing, especially with a male companion, for ages. Not since she’d dated Forrest. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, Ty was fun. His secretive glances and grins kept excitement humming in her veins.
“I’ll let Ginger know I already gave you all the information, if I see her,” Peter said. “I’ll be closing up after the train leaves.”
“Thank you,” Ty said. “We appreciate that.”
Norma Rose agreed and fought to control her steps as they walked to the door. She was used to controlling things, yet seemed to be having a harder time doing it around Ty.
A train whistle filled the air as Ty opened the door and held it wide for her to exit first.
Ginger wasn’t among the passengers, neither those arriving or departing. Norma Rose wasn’t surprised, yet she couldn’t quite gather if she was upset or not. It certainly was not like Ginger to run away. Twyla, yes. That wouldn’t have surprised anyone, except Twyla knew that if she left, the money would stop. Ginger had to know that, too.
After the train rolled westward, she and Ty walked to his truck, where he once again held the door open for her.
Norma Rose climbed in absently. She couldn’t come up with a single reason why Ginger would have run away.
“What about friends?” Ty asked as he climbed in.
“What about them?” she said, not so lost in thought she’d admit to not having any. She hadn’t for years. Friendships took time, and she’d devoted all of her time solely to the resort over the past few years.
“Does Ginger have any she might have gone to see? Someone ailing or celebrating a birthday or something?”
“No,” Norma Rose said. “Well, she has friends, but since graduation last month, she hasn’t seen them regularly. Two got married right after they’d graduated and her best friend left last week for Duluth, where she’ll go to college.”
“Would she have gone to see her? The friend in Duluth?”
“Not without telling me,” Norma Rose said. “She’d have asked for the money for a ticket or permission to use one of the cars. If any of her friends were sick or had birthdays, she’d have told me about that, too.” Frustration building, she shook her head. “This is so unlike Ginger.”
“Will Ginger attend college?”
“No,” she answered. “Father won’t allow that.”
“College?”
“Yes, college. Not for any of his daughters.” Perhaps it was due to the purpose of their mission, but she didn’t mind answering his questions. He needed to know any information that might assist in finding Ginger. “I think Father’s afraid that if he lets them leave, they won’t come back.” In some ways her father was lenient when it came to his daughters. About other things he was strict. Very strict.
“Even you?”
“Yes, even me.” Norma Rose bit her lips together. She hadn’t meant for that to sound so sharp, and shot a glance at Ty.
Staring straight ahead, he scratched his head. “Well, what about the amusement park? Would Ginger have gone there, like Twyla wanted?”
“Twyla’s friend Mitsy Kemper works there, selling cotton candy.” Norma Rose took a moment to contemplate that. “Ginger was mad at Mitsy a while back, but I don’t know why. I figured it was over a borrowed scarf or something, but now that I think about it, Ginger was really angry. She didn’t have a kind thing to say about Mitsy for days.”
He started the engine. “Shall we go see if this Mitsy has seen Ginger? It can’t hurt.”
“I suppose we could.” Then because she wasn’t used to being away from the resort for so long, she added, “I should go tell Father where I’m at, where we’re going.”
“One of the men would have told him we left,” Ty said, backing up. “He knows you’re with me.”
She couldn’t deny that and the thought triggered other questions. “How could Ginger have left the resort? She wouldn’t have walked.”
“Can you think of anyone who was at the resort last night that she might have asked for a ride?” Ty asked in return.
Norma Rose glanced out her window to check for traffic and signaled no one was approaching. “No. It was all locals last night. No one would have given her a ride without my father’s permission.”
“You’re sure?” Ty asked.
Her look could have spoken for itself, but Norma Rose said, “I’m positive.”
“Your father keeps a close eye on all of you girls, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No,” Ty said without glancing her way. “I’m just wondering how yo
u, and your sisters, feel about that. Would it have made Ginger angry enough to run away?”
Skipping over the way she felt about it, for that was not something he needed to know, she said, “Twyla’s the only one who complains about it. As long as Josie’s allowed to go to her ladies aid meetings, she’s happy, and Ginger, well, up until a month ago, she was in school every day, so it wasn’t like she didn’t leave the resort regularly.”
He pulled onto the main highway. “So now, after a month of being home, she may have gotten frustrated?”
“Possibly, I guess, but she never said anything.”
They’d only traveled a short distance along the highway before Ty started slowing again. “I need to fuel up.”
“Scooter Wilson runs this place,” she said as Ty pulled off the road and into the fueling station. “He was at the resort last night.”
Ty had no sooner shut off the engine when Scooter appeared next to his window. “Fill ’er up?” he asked, bending down to look in.
“Yes,” Ty answered.
Scooter must have heard, but he didn’t move, at least not toward the gas pump. Instead he leaned down farther to look past Ty. He stared at her with an unmistakably shocked expression on his face. “Norma Rose?”
“Hey, Scooter,” she answered, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
“Hey,” he repeated rather slowly, his tone questioning.
* * *
Ty rubbed a hand over his itching lips. He’d never had so much trouble keeping grins hidden. To say this man was surprised to see Norma Rose was the understatement of the year. “Go ahead and fill it up,” he said. “And wash the windshield if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Sure,” Scooter said, still staring at Norma Rose. Though he didn’t speak aloud, his lips formed her name again.
Cheeks rosy red, she fluttered her gloved fingers in a little wave. Ty pinched his lips again as Scooter, still looking like he’d seen a ghost, waved back.
“The gas,” Ty reminded him.
“Yeah, sure, right away,” Scooter said, inching away from the window, never pulling his eyes off Norma Rose.
Ty waited until the other man started cranking on the pump. Over the noise, he said, “You don’t leave the resort often, either, do you?”
She rubbed the end of her nose. “Not with someone.”
“Not with someone, or not with a man?” He couldn’t help but ask.
Her silence made him glance through the back window, where Scooter was still staring as if Norma Rose had grown two heads.
She glanced through the window, too, and let out a heavy sigh. “Fine, not with a man, or at least not a strange one.”
“You think I’m strange?”
“No, that’s not—” She stopped, noticing his grin.
She smiled, too, and let out a little giggle that told him she’d embarrassed herself.
A thud at the back of the truck said Scooter had heard her giggle, too.
Ty turned to look out the driver’s window, to make sure the attendant had the nozzle inside the gas tank. He seemed so fixated on Norma Rose he might be pumping gas all over the ground.
“Scooter, is it?” Ty asked when the man noticed him.
“Yeah, Scooter Wilson.”
“I’m Ty Bradshaw,” he offered. “I believe I saw you last night at the resort.”
“Scooter, Dac Lester and Jimmy Sonny were the last to leave,” Norma Rose whispered.
“Along with Dac Lester and Jimmy Sonny,” Ty added. “The three of you closed down the bar.”
Scooter’s brows, as dark as the black slicked-back hair on his head, knitted together.
Ty was well aware that no one said such things. Joints were called speakeasies because you had to talk softly to gain entrance, and because you never mentioned being in one, or who you’d seen there. Yet, he kept his eyes on the man, waiting for an answer.
“We did.” Shifting, Scooter slid his free hand into the pocket of his overalls. “I can’t say I recall seeing you.”
“It was dark,” Ty said.
The glass bubble atop the tall pump emptied, and with barely a nod, Scooter removed the nozzle and hooked it back on the side of the pump. Picking up a bucket of water, he said, “I’ll get your windshield now.”
“Appreciate it,” Ty said, trying to sound friendly. Instinct told him not to alienate this man, and that was enough. He never questioned his gut. “You didn’t by chance see Ginger last night, did you?”
“Sure,” Scooter answered.
Before Ty could respond, Norma Rose stretched across the front seat, planting herself between him and the steering wheel to stick her head out of his window. “You did?” she asked. “You saw Ginger?”
Ty tried to concentrate on the look of shock on Scooter’s face, but was rather distracted by one of Norma Rose’s knees planted in his thigh.
“Yeah,” Scooter said, holding a dripping rag in one hand. “She was at the top of the stairs, watching Brock play most of the night, like usual.”
Norma Rose deflated so quickly Ty barely had time to catch her before she landed on his lap. He helped her back onto the seat, where, squirming, she pulled her skirt back over her knees.
Ty tugged his gaze away from the silk stockings that made her knees glisten in the sunlight and leaned out the window. Scooter was washing the exact same spot while staring through the windshield. “You didn’t see Ginger after that, did you? After Brock’s performance?”
“No,” Scooter said. “After Brock was done performing, I helped him load up his instruments, and strapped his gas cans onto the back of his truck while he was in the resort talking with Norma Rose’s father.”
“Why onto the back?” Ty asked.
“Because the box was full of instruments. Every last one he owns.”
“That’s right,” Ty said, as if remembering. “Brock’s going to Chicago, to sing on the radio.”
“Yep,” Scooter said. “Left last night.”
“How much do I owe you?” Ty asked, digging cash out of his pocket.
Scooter rattled off an amount, and as Ty paid him, asked, “Why? What’s up with Ginger?”
“Nothing,” Ty answered. “We’re just curious about something.”
Scooter glanced curiously between Ty and Norma Rose. “I didn’t talk to Ginger at all last night.”
“Good enough,” Ty said, starting the engine.
“’Bye, Norma Rose,” Scooter said, once again bending down to look in the window.
“See you, Scooter,” she answered, her cheeks still rosy.
Ty bid farewell and waited until they were rolling down the highway before asking, “Would Ginger have left with Brock?”
“Brock?”
He nodded, but was more interested in the fact she was still speaking. She’d embarrassed herself completely by climbing across him and was obviously hoping he wouldn’t mention it. He considered it, but he knew staying on her good side was important right now. Besides, it would be best for him to forget it, too.
“Brock would never take Ginger anywhere, let alone Chicago,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“I know Brock.” Shifting in her seat, she leaned against the door to look at him. “His father was shot while delivering milk in St. Paul early one morning last year. There was a raid at a nearby speakeasy and he took a bullet in the back. The doctors didn’t give the family much hope, so my father sent Gloria over there, and she recommended a surgeon from Rochester. The family couldn’t afford to go to the Mayo Clinic to see this special surgeon, or to pay his fees, so my father paid for it, and Brock is determined to pay him back. Every cent.”
Ty had heard about Roger’s generosity to local families, but hadn’t heard this story, which was interesting. Someone wanted it kept secret.
“Brock doesn’t like owing my father money. He barely accepted payment for performing, wanting most of it to count against his debt. What little he did take, he gave to his family for food and other
bills.” She shook her head. “Brock would never do anything to upset my father, and taking Ginger to Chicago would certainly upset him.”
“I see,” Ty answered. All he really saw was her. Keeping his eyes off her was growing more difficult. Close up, she was downright beautiful, and seeing her opening up to him, relaxed against the door like she was, had Ty’s pulse thumping a bit stronger than normal. Right now, she had a fascinating little secretive grin on her face, as if— “And I believe you’re right,” he said, realizing she’d been waiting for him to elaborate. Turning back to the road, and noting they were approaching White Bear Lake, he asked, “Where’s this amusement park?”
She huffed out a silly guffaw. “You know all there is to know about my family, and the resort, yet you don’t know where the amusement park is?”
He chuckled. She had him on that one. “I’ve momentarily forgotten,” he said. “Must be the company.” What was it about her that had his mind wandering, and not where it should be wandering?
There was that glare in her eye again, but this time it held a mocking glimmer. Norma Rose had marvelous eyes. It wasn’t just the deep blue color, but also the way they spoke volumes. He grinned and lifted a brow. “It’s over behind the Plantation.”
“Yes, it is.” Her answer was dry, bitter even. She turned about, to look straight out the windshield, and her posture stiffened.
There was more to her dislike of the Plantation nightclub than rivalry, Ty sensed. Ty couldn’t ignore his instinct. He also wondered if Forrest Reynolds was the reason behind her dislike. Forrest had taken over the establishment last year from his father, Galen, who, rumor had it, had moved to California for health reasons.
Although Ty already knew the answer, he wanted to see her reaction, so he asked, “Does Forrest own the amusement park, too?”
“No,” she said sternly. “The trolley company, Lowell’s, own it. They have trolleys that come up here several times a day. Have done for years and years.”
Another way Ginger might have gotten away. He didn’t say it aloud, and he didn’t need to—Norma Rose was clearly already thinking it. He hadn’t completely forgotten their mission. Usually that was all that was on his mind. Then again, he usually didn’t have a doll like Norma Rose sitting beside him, filling the air with a perfume he’d never forget. From this moment on, every time he got a whiff of roses, he’d think of her.
The Bootlegger's Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Page 10
