6
After saying goodbye to Amelia, Laurie hurried to Johnny’s boarding house. She wrinkled her nose at the belching smokestacks along the waterfront. A yellowish haze tainted the spring air with the fumes of rotting wood pulp and sulfur.
Johnny and two other men sat on the front porch steps, deep in conversation. Laurie slowed her pace, ducking behind a neighboring hedge.
“We can’t go tonight.” A small man with brown hair hanging far past the edges of his tweed cap gestured with grimy hands. “I’m on early shift. If I show up at work one more time with whiskey on my breath, they’ll send me packing.”
Johnny scoffed. “There’s nothing saying you have to drink the stuff, Lew.”
“Stay out of my business, kid. Just ‘cuz you’re hauling your stash back to your old man don’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy the spoils.” He jammed a lit cigarette between his lips and took a long drag.
Laurie held her breath, palms damp.
“Well, if not tonight, when?” A third man spoke.
“Let’s make it Thursday, if the weather’s not too bad. I’m sick of this rowing in the rain business. We could swim there and back and get less wet.” Lew’s whining voice carried clearly on the breeze.
Her brother spoke up. “You sat in the car during the last drop. We were the ones getting soaked. But, the weather doesn’t get much better than this. I think we should go tonight.”
Lew exhaled, smoke curling around his head. “Who made you boss?”
Laurie caught a glimpse of the third man—a burly fellow with a round, red face. He pushed to his feet with a grunt. The others fell silent.
The heavy-set man dangled an unlit cigar from the tips of his meaty fingers. “We don’t want ‘fine.’ You boys think this is some pleasure cruise? You want to go boating, do it on your own time. The rain hides us better—unless you want to be sitting in the county jail come morning.”
His gravelly voice made the hairs on the back of Laurie’s neck rise.
Lew rubbed both hands on his stained overalls. “Who’s going to be looking? Nobody cares what we’re doing. I don’t think we need all this cloak and dagger business.”
Johnny leaned back against the steps; his hands wrapped around one knee. “I think Jerry’s right. We shouldn’t be taking any chances. I don’t want to meet any G-men on the beach.”
“There ain’t gonna’ be no G-men. You’ve read too many newspapers. If we was in Seattle or Tacoma, maybe; but no one cares about that stuff up here.”
Laurie took a deep breath and stepped into the open. “You’re wrong.”
The three men swung their faces toward her, Johnny and Lew jumping to their feet. The smaller man lost hold of his cigarette, juggling to prevent the butt from dropping into the weeds.
Johnny took a step toward her. “Girl, you got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Someone needs to, before you get yourself locked up or killed.”
Jerry shoved his hat back on his head and stared. “If it ain’t the girl from the beach. You said she wasn’t gonna be no trouble, Johnny.”
Johnny pushed past the two men and grabbed Laurie’s elbow. “She’s not.” He yanked her down the walk toward the road.
“Hold it.” The big man strode forward until his shadow fell over Laurie. “What were you trying to say?”
Laurie stuck out her chin and wrenched her elbow from her brother’s vise grip. “There’s a revenuer in town looking for you.”
Jerry pulled off his hat, his round head topped only by a few long hairs pulled from one ear to the other. His light-colored brows were drawn down into a scowl.
Johnny latched on a second time, digging his fingers into her arm. “She’s just saying that because she wants me to quit.”
“Let her go, Johnny. Let’s hear her out.” The man’s voice softened.
Johnny released his grip, but hovered like a dog with raised hackles.
Lew closed the circle, a grin on his face. “She’s a peach, Johnny. I never figured you came from such good-lookin’ stock. How about an introduction?”
“Shut up.” Johnny growled as he curled his fingers into fists.
Laurie ignored them, turning instead to the balding man, hoping he had an ounce of sense in his skull. “I met a man at church today . . . ”
Lew snorted.
Jerry gestured for the man to be silent. “And?”
She glanced at her brother. “He said he worked for the treasury department—”
“That don’t mean nothing.” Lew crossed his arms across his barrel-shaped chest. “He’s probably just some pencil-pusher who stopped through to do something at city hall.”
She took a deep breath. “He told me they’d had reports of boats running Canadian whiskey into Port Angeles. He’s here to put a stop to it.”
Johnny rubbed his hands over his face while Jerry jammed his cigar between his teeth. Even Lew looked taken aback.
The crushing weight lifted from Laurie’s chest. “Now you can give up this ridiculous venture. There’s no way you can keep making trips to Canada when you’ve got federal agents on your doorstep.”
Lew flicked ashes from the end of his cigarette. “What are we gonna do, Jerry? We can’t shut down now, I got orders coming in.”
Jerry swung his hat back onto his round head. “No one’s quitting. We’ve just got to watch our backs. Someone must have squealed to the feds.” He turned and glared at Laurie.
Johnny stepped closer. “No way, Jerry. It wasn’t her.”
The big man crossed his arms over his chest and curled his lip. “That true, sweetheart?”
Laurie nodded. As if I would get my own brother in trouble.
“We can trust you?”
Laurie glanced toward Johnny, her pulse quickening. “Yes, of course.” She ran fingers over her arms, trying to chase off the sudden chill.
“Good. Here’s what we’re going to do.” He pointed a finger at Laurie’s nose. “You’re going to be our eyes and ears. You keep track of that fellow and see if you can find out what he knows.”
Johnny’s face reddened. “No way. My sister is not a part of this.”
Jerry tossed his cigar butt on the ground and smashed it flat with his work boot. He glared at Johnny with close-set eyes. “Seems to me she already made herself part of this. I didn’t ask her to show up on the beach or to come to this meeting. Maybe you’re the one with the loose jaw in this operation. How did she know about the shipment? The meeting?”
Laurie grasped Johnny’s sleeve. “He didn’t tell me anything.”
Johnny growled. “Stay out of this, Laurie.”
She elbowed her way between them. “I work at the switchboard—that’s how I figured out about the beach. And I didn’t even know about this meeting, I just wanted to tell Johnny about the agent.”
Johnny grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the gate. “Laurie, I told you to stay out of it. I don’t want you here.” He gave her a shove that sent her staggering out into the road.
“Hold it.” Jerry strode over to the ramshackle fence. “You’re an operator?”
Laurie nodded.
He ran his hands along the top of the fence rail. “You listen in on conversations?”
A flush climbed her neck. “We’re not supposed to, of course. But I’d been wondering why Johnny had been acting so peculiar.”
The heavyset man paced the yard. “Take her on home, Johnny.” He slid another cigar from his breast pocket, rolling it between his fingers. “Then head back here. We need to have a little chat.”
Her brother walked out of the yard in silence, his jaw grinding.
Laurie hurried to keep pace, mapping out the upcoming argument in her mind. Johnny had to give up this ridiculous activity and focus on his relationship with Amelia. Maybe they could all get their lives straightened out for once.
Once they reached the corner, out of earshot of the house, Johnny rounded on her. “What do you mean s
howing up like that? Didn’t I warn you to stay away?” His eyes flashed.
Laurie recoiled, shocked by the intensity of his words. The hairs along her arms stood at attention. “I thought you might want to know.”
He kicked at a stone sending it skidding across the road. “Laurie, you don’t have any sense in that brain. These people are dangerous. I don’t want you anywhere near them.” His brows pinched. “If you got something to say, talk to me.”
She clamped her hands on her waist. “And when am I supposed to do that? When you’re at work? When you’re hauling bottles of whiskey around the beach? When you’re yelling at Dad for drinking or for making you late?” She twisted the corner of her sweater. “No, let me see—I’ll talk to you when you’re taking Amelia to the soda fountain. Oh, wait—you never do that anymore.”
His shoulders slumped. “Laurie . . . ”
The burning in her throat refused to be extinguished. “Amelia comes crying to me because she thinks you don’t care. What am I supposed to tell her? That you’re running whiskey so you can afford to buy her a ring?”
He started off down the street. “You don’t understand anything.”
She trailed after. “Amelia loves you. She doesn’t want a fancy house or ring. If she knew you were doing this, she’d be heart-broken.”
He stopped. “Don’t you breathe a word of this to her.”
Laurie dug her fingernails into her palm. “Quit running whiskey and maybe I’ll keep your little secret.”
Johnny threw his head back and stared up at the sky. Laurie could see his Adam’s apple working in his throat as he swallowed. “I can’t.”
Her stomach clenched. “Why not?”
“I owe some people money.”
Laurie pressed her lips together. “If you’re in trouble, I could help.”
His face twisted. “Why’d you have to go and tell Big Jerry that you work for the switchboard? That’s the last thing I need.”
“Why?”
Johnny grabbed her shoulders. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from him. No matter what he asks.”
She frowned. “But if it could help you—”
“I’ve just got to make a few more shipments and I’m getting out.”
Her heart rose. “Really? You’ll quit?”
He nodded. “So, promise me. Stay away from Jerry. And stay away from that G-man, too. I don’t want you mixed up in any of this nonsense.”
Laurie nodded. “As long as you promise me you’re quitting.”
His lip turned up in a half-smile. “I can’t wait to be done. I never want to row those waters again.” He gave her a gentle shove. “Now get on home. I’m going to see what I can do to smooth things over with Jerry.”
“All right.” She moistened her lips. “And Johnny—”
“Yeah?”
“Come by and see Amelia, soon. Won’t you?”
He smiled. “I’d like nothing better, Sis. I’ll swing by this evening and take her for a stroll.”
“Perfect.” Laurie hurried off, leaving her brother at the corner. Two blocks passed before she remembered about Daniel Shepherd. She glanced back, but Johnny had already disappeared.
He said to stay away from both the revenuer and the rumrunners. Obviously, that must include Shepherd, too.
7
Ediz Hook wrapped around the Port Angeles harbor like a protective arm. Daniel strolled the rocky strip of land, the soft spring sunshine warming his shoulders even as the gusty wind off the Strait tugged at his sleeves. The breeze couldn’t budge his dark mood, his thoughts consumed by the image of a beautiful young woman and the vain peacock in the pinstriped suit who’d wasted no time cozying up to her. Daniel lifted his collar, leaning into the wind. He had no claim on Laurie’s attentions and she’d made it perfectly clear that she had zero interest in his.
Scooping up a smooth stone, he cocked his arm and sent it skimming across the surface of the waves. God, give me wisdom. Show me what to do. He stared past the water to the hazy shore of Canada less than twenty miles away. As a boy, he’d chucked many a rock as hard as he could with the fantasy of hitting the distant beach.
During the night he’d woken with Miss Burke’s words running through his mind. “Does your grandfather know what you are?” Daniel shivered as the breeze whipped the perspiration from his face. If Granddad knew, he’d never have asked him to work at the pharmacy. And inherit the place? Not a chance.
He scooped up a handful of pebbles and tossed them, one by one, into the water. Pastor Yoder said God casts sins into the depths of the sea. So why do they still haunt me? Daniel hurled the last pebble as hard as he could. It splashed into the harbor, sinking beneath the waves.
Daniel buttoned his coat and continued down the path, gulls spinning lazy circles over his head. He adjusted his hat to block the sun’s glare. He needed to confront Laurie Burke and find out what exactly she knew.
Daniel reached the far end of the spit where the lighthouse warned boats of the nearby rocks. He sat down on a bench and stared out over the foaming surf. Looking into the deep blue of Laurie Burke’s eyes could mean risking some equally dangerous waters.
The silvery-haired widow drummed her fingernails against the marble counter, the lines on her brow deepening with each passing minute.
Many charms, indeed. Daniel counted to ten. “Mrs. McAllister, I’ve wrapped up your rheumatism pills just the way you requested. Is there something else?”
She peered over the rims of her tiny gold-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Larson always fills my prescriptions. He understands how I like things. Perhaps he should check before I take them home.”
Daniel slid the packet across the counter. “Granddad is out of the store today. He’s going to be taking Mondays off. If you’d like, I could hold your prescription and have him inspect it in the morning.”
She huffed. “I always pick my pills up on Monday afternoons. How could he be so insensitive as to leave a youngster like you in charge on the day he knows I’m coming?
Daniel straightened to his full six-foot height. At twenty-six, he could hardly be called a youngster. “Mrs. McAllister, Granddad left detailed instructions about your pills.” Not that I needed them. “I followed them to the letter. He even wrote that you liked your strawberry soda topped with fresh strawberry ice cream, not vanilla.” He pressed both palms against the marble countertop.
Mrs. McAllister fiddled with the clasp on her purse. “Well, we’ll see if you get that right, now, won’t we?”
Daniel sighed as he followed the gray-haired matron to the soda fountain. It had been a slow day, but a few people sat at the counter enjoying their drinks. A cherub-faced little girl bounced on one of the stools while her mother steadied it with a free hand.
As Daniel mixed Mrs. McAllister’s strawberry soda, the bell over the door jingled. He opened the door to the icebox and retrieved a scoop of ice cream before glancing toward the front.
Daniel saw a tall man looming in the doorway, decked out in a charcoal-gray suit and matching fedora.
Daniel swallowed, a sour taste springing to his tongue. The man didn’t look so much like a choirboy without a hymnbook in his hand.
Daniel finished preparing the soda and wiped the edge of the glass with a napkin before plunking it on the counter in front of Mrs. McAllister. “Your soda, ma’am. I hope you enjoy it.”
He didn’t bother plastering the usual greet-the-customer smile on his face as he stepped out from behind the fountain. “Can I be of some assistance?” Daniel held out his hand, still chilled from the freezer.
The man returned the handshake, his eyes flickering at the icy touch. He released his grip and rubbed his palms together, a gold ring glinting on his pinky finger. “Shepherd, isn’t it?”
A prickle wandered across the back of Daniel’s neck. “Have we been introduced?”
The corners of the man’s lips twisted upward in a half-smile. “Not exactly. I am Agent Samuel Brown, a Prohibition officer with the U.S. Treasur
y Department.” His gaze wandered the store. “I’d like to speak to the owner. That would be your grandfather, correct?”
Daniel’s throat clenched. A revenuer? “Yes. Miles Larson. I’m afraid he’s not in on Mondays. Would you like to make an appointment to see him or is there anything I can do for you?”
The bell jingled again as a freckle-faced teenager scurried in, out of breath. “I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Shepherd. My teacher kept me after class. It won’t happen again, sir.”
Daniel nodded. “That’s fine, Marcie. School is important.”
Marcie raised her fingers to her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting.” She fled from the two men and ducked behind the fountain counter, reaching for an apron.
Daniel turned back to Mr. Brown. “As I was saying—”
“Just how many kids do you have working here, Mr. Shepherd?” Brown’s eyes narrowed as he withdrew a notepad from an inner pocket of his suit coat.
“Marcie is the first. Business has picked up since we added the fountain. We may hire another in a few weeks. My grandfather has enough work to do just keeping up with the pharmacy without scooping ice cream, too.”
Mr. Brown took off his hat and held it to his chest. “Do employees have access to the alcohol that you keep on site?”
Daniel folded both arms across his chest. “Suppose you tell me what your business is here, Mr. Brown, and perhaps I should ask to see your identification as well.”
Samuel Brown drew out a gold US Prohibition Service badge. He raised his voice, its sound carrying across the small store. “I understand this pharmacy was issued a license to dispense alcohol via prescription. I need to examine your stock and your storage methods.”
Several of the customers turned in their seats, eyes wide.
“When did the Bureau of Prohibition begin to care about small family drugstores? Of course, I’d be more than happy to show you our supplies, if it would make you feel better.” Striding to the rear of the store, Daniel opened the storage room and switched on the lights. He drew a key from the breast pocket of his lab coat and unlocked the low cabinet that housed the spirits.
Mistaken Page 5
