Thank you, Libby. You are the best friend ever.
Your pal,
Ruthie
It was all so sad. I went into the kitchen to fry up a piece of spam and warm up a can of beans. Poor Ruthie. Poor Mrs Nance. When I flipped the spam over to fry the other side, it hit me. Ruth must have written and rewritten that letter to make sure she hadn’t said anything to catch the attention of the censors. She must have concealed a message.
I slid the spam and a spoonful of beans on a plate, grabbed the letter and sat down at the table to read it again while I ate. The only thing that stood out the second time though was that Ruth wanted me to speak to Sally. And it could be important. Second shift was from two in the afternoon until ten at night. If I hurried, I could catch Sally before she left for the day – if she’d worked that day. If not, it would all be a waste of time.
I gulped down the rest of my meal and raced over to the guest house. When I walked up to the reception desk, there were two women behind the counter and I had no idea which one – or if either one – was Sally. The shorter of the two had her blonde hair swept up in an elaborate style as if she hoped the piled-up locks would make her appear taller. The other woman wore a more simple hairstyle sporting short bangs and hair on the sides that flipped up at her shoulders. Both of them were engaged in conversations with people who appeared to be guests.
The first woman free was the short blonde. Approaching her, I said, ‘Hello, I’m looking for Sally.’
The tall brunette turned towards me, holding an index finger up in the air. The blonde said, ‘Are you sure I can’t help you?’
‘Yes. I have a message from a friend for Sally.’
As the people walked away, the brunette walked over and said, ‘How can I help you?’
‘I got a letter from Ruth Nance this week …’
‘Oh dear, how is she doing?’
‘I think she’s doing all right, considering. She wanted me to let you know that her mother really appreciated your letter and wanted to write one to you. But then every time she started, she’d cry all over the paper and couldn’t go on.’
‘Oh, poor thing. I certainly didn’t expect a letter back. I know how it is. My mom is a Gold Star mother.’
‘Oh, so sorry to hear that. I lost a cousin in Pearl Harbor.’
‘You know then. Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter how you lose a child, it’s awful. I don’t think I could bear it. I know we’re supposed to want to get married and have babies but that always comes with the risk of losing them. I don’t know if I’m strong enough. My mom tells me I’ll feel different when the war is over. I doubt it. Between now and then, I imagine a lot more of our boys will die. Listen, I’ve got to get back to work.’
‘Say, are you working Sunday? If not, I’d love to have you over for Sunday dinner. It might only be spam or canned salmon, but I’ll try to find something else at the market.’
‘You have your own place?’
‘Yes, I do. It’s a flattop.’
‘Spiffy. I haven’t seen the inside of one of those. I’d love to come over Sunday – even if it is spam.’
I walked home, tired but cheerful. I had expected that any friend of Irene’s would be a bit shallow but Sally seemed quite nice and actually capable of thinking for herself. My first dinner guest besides Ruth – how exciting. I’d have to get to the market before it opened to have any chance to get any fresh meat at all – that would make me late to work, but it was a Saturday, Charlie wouldn’t come down on me too hard.
The next morning, I arrived at Towncenter forty-five minutes before the doors of the market opened and already there were at least two dozen people ahead of me in line. I was afraid that all the meat would be gone before I got to the counter but I stood in place hoping my patience would be rewarded.
I heard someone shout my name. Looking around, I saw Mrs Bishop near the front. ‘Young lady, you get up here with me right now. Where did you get off to? Don’t dawdle, Libby.’
I edged my way to the front, expecting someone to make an angry remark but most of them just smiled and shook their heads. They must have assumed that I was Mrs Bishop’s daughter and she was scolding me for being disobedient. What a brilliant strategy. Was it the first time she’d used this particular subterfuge? She was obviously good at it. I’d been underestimating Ann’s mother.
When I joined her, I said, ‘Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. I just got distracted.’
‘Don’t let it happen again, Libby. It’s difficult enough shopping without having to keep up with you.’ She slid a hand into mine and gave it a squeeze.
I was able to buy two lamb chops – small but so welcome. I grabbed a couple of potatoes and a can of peas and went through the check-out and waited for Mrs Bishop to finish her shopping. We walked out of the store together and once we turned a corner, Mrs Bishop said, ‘I was surprised to see you here. I thought you’d be at work.’
‘I should be but I really needed to get to the market before all the meat was gone. Thank you very much for helping me.’
‘Sometime you can return the favor if you get a chance.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thanks again. I need to get this food home and get to work. See you soon.’
‘Just one more thing, Libby.’
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘You and my husband are dealing with some sort of problem …?’
‘Oh, Mrs Bishop I’m sorry, but I can’t—’
‘I know you can’t tell me anything about that, dear. I was just curious about where you meet to discuss the problem – besides the office and our home.’
‘No place else, Mrs Bishop.’ What kind of question was that?
‘Are you sure? Not even once or twice? Did you talk at your little flattop or anyplace else?’
What was going on here? ‘Absolutely not, Mrs Bishop. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, someone told me that you were at Joe’s the other night with a bunch of scientists and I thought my husband might be one of them.’
‘I was at Joe’s but your husband wasn’t there.’
An indecipherable look passed over her face. She sighed, her expression softened and she smiled. ‘Ah, I was just worried about the two of you. Well, I’d better let you get on to work.’ She turned and walked away.
I puzzled over the odd line of questioning as I hurried home, caught the bus and raced to Y-12. No matter which way I looked at Mrs Bishop’s question, it still did not make much sense. With all my rushing, I was a bit out of breath by the time I got inside and suddenly, there he was, Wilhelm Schlater, walking straight at me. I tucked my head down and walked past him, hurrying to my work space as if it were a refuge from the war, seeking anonymity and shelter.
His footsteps faltered as they passed me. Then I felt a firm hand grasping my shoulder and spinning me around.
‘Vat are you doing here?’
I was too terrified to speak – all that came out of my mouth was an inarticulate gurgle.
‘Get out of here!’ he shouted.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Charlie said. ‘I would appreciate it if you would keep your hands off of my staff.’
‘I vas assured she would be gone. Immediately. You know this to be true. You vere there. You heard them say so. I vill report this. But I vant her out of this lab now.’ Schlater grabbed my upper arm and pulled.
Charlie in turn grabbed Schlater’s arm and said, ‘You unhand that young lady or I will call security.’
‘Oh, ya, go right ahead. You know she should not be here. You know it.’
‘You’re wrong, Dr Smith. The decision was changed.’
‘I don’t belief you.’
‘Dr Smith, I suggest you discuss this matter with Lieutenant Colonel Crenshaw.’
‘Ach, I vill. You’d better belief I vill,’ Schlater said, shoving my arm away with force, causing it to swing wide and hit Charlie. ‘Und I vill be back here with soldiers to take her away.’ He spun around and walked off, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he march
ed away.
‘Are you OK, Libby?’
‘No damage done.’
‘I would have thought someone would have spoken to him about the change of plans. In fact, I was told not to let you know that there had been an order to send you home – but now you do.’
‘Thank you for coming to my rescue, Charlie, but if Schlater hadn’t confronted me, would you ever have told me?’
‘I couldn’t, Libby. You know how it is. I am happy about the outcome, but I could not influence it. I did try.’
‘Sure, well, let me get to work.’ Some people will follow rules and orders, under any circumstances. No matter how unfair, how unjust, the rules were paramount. Now, in this time of war, that attitude seemed to spread to nearly everyone. It seems, I could trust someone like Charlie in a black and white situation, such as this one, but if there was a grey area, it was clear I’d be on my own.
THIRTY-FIVE
On Sunday morning, I went through my house, straightening up clutter and dusting off surfaces in preparation for my guest. When Sally arrived, she was more than impressed with the space.
‘Well, isn’t this the cat’s meow. Almost like living in a doll house, Libby. And it’s all yours. I can’t tell you how green I am. I only had one roommate when I got here, but two weeks ago, I got a second one. I hope the three of us have enough patience to last through the war – the only thing that saves us from driving each other completely wacky is that we all work different shifts. But this,’ she said spreading her arms wide, ‘this is heaven.’
‘Thank you, Sally. I’m very fortunate but sometimes I forget my good luck on a cold and windy night. It’s draftier than the chicken coop at my dad’s farm. Make yourself at home, I need to get back into the kitchen and finish fixing our dinner.’
‘Can I set the table?’
‘As you can see the table’s tiny. We’ll have to serve up the food on the plates and carry them out here, but you could lay out the utensils.’
After doing that, Sally stayed in the kitchen with me, chatting about the mud, dances and the poor quality of the cafeteria food. Sitting down to eat, we both cut a piece of lamb chop and popped it in our mouths, relishing the flavor as we chewed. After swallowing, Sally said, ‘I forgot how good a lamb chop could be. I can’t remember when I last had one. How did you ever get them?’
‘Lots of luck and a friend at the front of the line at the market,’ I said with a laugh. ‘Glad you’re enjoying it.’
Sally started to cut off another piece then set down her knife and fork. ‘Libby, I figured you asked me over because you wanted to talk to me about Irene. You don’t have to make any more small talk. Just go right ahead, ask me anything.’
‘Thanks, Sally. I wasn’t sure how to start. But eat – don’t let your dinner get cold. We’ll have plenty of time to talk when we finish.’
Sally said, ‘Say no more, this is the best meal I’ve had since I moved into the dorm.’ She ate another bit of chop, a mouthful of mashed potatoes and a forkful of peas. ‘I really liked Irene. There was a lot more to her than most people gave her credit. Sure, she liked to have a good time but she had a goal. She wanted to find a man she could love, who could take care of her, who could take her away from the sticks, give her a nice life in the city.’
‘You talked a lot?’ I asked.
‘Sometimes we worked like spinning tops with questions and problems from the guests. Other times, we’d go an hour or more without seeing anyone but each other. And Irene? A lot of people thought she was just looking for fun all the time. But when the war was over, she didn’t want to go back to the farm and settle down with one of the local boys. That’s why she dated a lot of different men. It wasn’t because she was wild – well, she was a bit wild – but what I’m saying is, she’d date a man two or three times but as soon as she realized he wasn’t the one, she just moved on to someone else – a bunch of someones actually. I was green as could be at times. Hardly enough men to go around and they all seemed to want to go out with Irene.’
For a few more minutes, Sally concentrated on the food on her plate. Then she said, ‘I wish I could be more like her.’
‘In what way?’
‘When we first started working together, it seemed like she was making eyes at every man who walked through the door. Then I realized that she was simply at ease with all of them, didn’t matter if it was a young private or one of the old guys working a desk job up at the castle. She just liked men – and women, too. And everybody felt that from her.’
‘The women, too?’
‘Listen, you could tell which of the married couples staying in the guest house were happy and which ones had problems just by watching how the wives acted around Irene. If they had a good marriage, they smiled and laughed with Irene every time they saw her. But if things were bad between a woman and her husband, she’d be just as bristly as a porcupine. Wives like that were suspicious of Irene. And sure enough, the husbands of those women were the ones who were a bit too bold, asking every woman that worked there to take a walk or go out somewhere.’
‘Were there any men who paid special attention to Irene?’
Sally laughed. ‘Yes, all of them. But seriously, if a man was staying at the guest house with his wife, she was friendly with them but it ended there.’
‘What about a German guy named Dr Smith? He lived in the guest house for a while back before his family came down and moved into a cemesto house. Do you remember him?’
‘Thick accent, mean eyes?’
‘That’s the one,’ I agreed.
‘Wish I could forget him,’ Sally said. ‘What an unpleasant man. No matter what problem he had, like if he ran short of towels or soap, it was as if someone did it to him deliberately. No one could stand that nasty man – not even Irene and she was everybody’s friend. I was glad to see the last of him.’
‘How about a Dr William or Bill Ottinger?’
Sally furrowed her brow. ‘Hmmm? Oh, was he married to that little woman who looked like she got her face out of a sour pickle jar every morning?’
I laughed at her imagery and answered, ‘I don’t know.’
‘I bet it is. He was a real drugstore cowboy. Had a couple of lines he used on every woman who worked there. First, he’d say she reminded him of an old flame and then he’d warn her not to trust anyone – I suppose he thought saying that would make us distrust everyone but him. He asked us all who worked there to step out with him and he could be really fresh. He made me blush almost every time he spoke to me. Got so fresh with Irene once she slapped him right in the kisser.’
‘Really?’
‘Don’t remember what he said but I felt like cheering when it happened. He stormed off as if he didn’t think he deserved that kind of treatment, but I bet it wasn’t the first slap that man had gotten.’
‘When did that happen?’
‘I don’t remember exactly but it was after Thanksgiving and close to Christmas – maybe halfway between the two.’
People had been killed for lesser reasons than a slap and a bit of humiliation. Was that the motive for Irene’s murder? ‘Did he stay angry with her?’
‘For a couple of days he didn’t speak to her but then he was back to sweet-talking every time he walked by. Men like that never learn.’
‘Would she have gone out with him? Maybe just for an apology?’
‘Not that I know but I suspect it was possible. Every day she left work, there was somebody waiting to walk her back to the dorm. I suppose he could have been there one night. Irene never seemed to hold a grudge against anybody.’
‘So, Irene didn’t seem to pay anyone any special attention?’
‘Oh, I didn’t say that. There was someone special. Don’t know who he was but just before Thanksgiving she told me she was in love.’
‘You have no idea who it was?’ I asked.
Sally shook her head. ‘She never said – acted all mysterious about it. But she said he was the one. She said after the war they’d be
moving out of here. Probably to California, she said.’
‘You never noticed her treating anyone special?’
‘No, like I said, Irene was friendly with everyone.’
‘Anyone treat her special?’
Sally laughed. ‘They all did – even that little Italian fella who said his name was Eugene Farmer.’
I exhaled a big sigh.
‘You’re asking all these questions for her family, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘They want to know what happened to Irene. But it would be real nice if you wouldn’t tell anyone I was asking.’
Sally mimed zipping her lips shut, locking them and throwing away the key. ‘Like the billboard says, what I see here, stays here.’
‘Thanks, Sally. If you could just think about it and let me know if anyone comes to your mind.’
We picked up our plates and carried them into the kitchen. Despite my protests, Sally insisted on helping me clean up. I washed, Sally dried and soon all was clean and put away. As she set down the towel, Sally said, ‘There was this one fella, a little older but not too old. I saw him slip her a note a couple of times. She tucked them away real quick and never talked about them even when I teased her.’
‘Who was that?’
‘I don’t know. He wasn’t a guest at the house. He just showed up a lot. He brought people there who had just arrived on the train. He picked them up sometimes in the morning and whisked them off somewhere or another. Always the men who were here for a short time. I figured they were important visitors. He treated them like they were. But he never introduced himself – not to me, anyway. Irene did look at him a little differently. Now that I think about it, she was a little quieter around him, not quite as brassy and forward as she could be. I didn’t think anything about it then, but now that I’m talking about it … well, it makes me wonder.’
Scandal in the Secret City Page 23
