The Big Brush-off (9 page)

I kissed Laura's cheek. “I'm a lucky man.”

Edwin glanced around and lowered his voice as if someone might overhear. “You a full-time writer, or do you still investigate murders?”

“I'm retired from pounding the streets. I needed a peaceful location to work on my new novel. I couldn't think of a better place than the Hanover Inn.”

Edwin's eyes lit up like headlights. “Go on. I hope it's another Blackie Doyle novel. He's my favorite detective.” Edwin snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot.” He turned to a notepad beside the phone. “There's a message for you, Miss Wilson.”

Already?

Laura's lips parted. “Me?”

“Someone from Hollywood.” Edwin tore off the note and handed it to Laura.

Laura read the note. “It's just Paul.”

“Something important, sweetheart?” Just the mention of the man's name gave me a sour taste in my mouth. Still, I had to give him credit. He'd tracked us to Hanover, Pennsylvania, before we even got there.

She shook her head and stuffed the note inside her purse. “It's nothing.”

I knew women well enough to know when Laura said it was nothing, it was something. However, I'd wait until she wanted to tell me.

The kid bounded down the stairs with a grin on his face.

I handed him the car keys.

The grin faded. “More bags?”

“I saved the heavy ones for last.”

“Son of a—”

“Freddy!” his father shouted.

The kid let out a heavy sigh. “—gun.”

Freddy ambled outside and returned with two more bags and my Underwood in a zippered case. He gave Laura the once-over again. “Laura Wilson. Sorry I didn't recognize you. Wait till the fellas hear about a famous guest being in town.”

“Guests, Freddy. Mr. Donovan is a successful and well-known writer.”

Freddy shrugged. “Not to the fellas.”

“If you don't mind”—I took Laura's arm—“we'd like a quiet few days away from the limelight, you understand.”

“Say no more.” Edwin held a finger to his mouth. “Mum's the word.”

Laura patted me on the back. “Jake needed a quiet place to work on his novel, and I needed some time off before heading back to the hustle and bustle of Hollywood. But the most important reason for returning to Hanover is to attend the ten-year memorial for Katie Caldwell on Sunday.”

“Katie Caldwell.” Edwin winced. “Every year the service reminds this town her killer was never found. Lately, however, I get the sense everyone would prefer to pretend it never happened. Not Mary. She's a tough bird, but you probably know she's not doing well.”

I nodded. “That's what I understand.”

“I'll do the best I can to make this a pleasant visit for both of you.” He gestured to the open doorway. “My daughter, Ginger, manages the dining room.”

Freddy picked up two bags, and I grabbed my typewriter. Laura and I followed him up the stairs to the end of the corridor.

He unlocked the door and handed me the key. “Thanks for not letting my old man know I sneaked a cigarette.”

“Smoking will stunt your growth.”

“I don't really smoke.” He proudly displayed a radio sitting on a doily on a corner table and mentioned a phone in the bedroom. A picture above a flowered couch showed a group of dogs playing poker.

Laura nodded, hiding her sarcasm well. “Very nice.”

Freddy pulled back the drapes to reveal a view of the town square a block away. “I bet you'll find Hanover's changed a lot since your last visit, Mr. Donovan.”

“I imagine it has.” I looked into my wallet and handed the kid a couple of bills.

Freddy stared at the contents of my wallet and let out a low whistle. “That's a lot of cabbage.”

Recalling Gino's implication that I wasn't a big tipper, I handed him another.

Freddy's eyes widened. He thanked me and went to the door. “It was swell meeting you both. I can't wait until you meet my sister, Miss Wilson. Her room's papered with photos from movie magazines. She wants to be an actress someday.”

“I look forward to meeting her.” Laura took a quick glance at the phone message from her manager then crumpled it in a ball and stuck it in her pocket.

I pretended not to notice.

Freddy opened the door. “You really a writer?”

I nodded.

Laura hooked her arm in mine. “You should read one of his books. I think you'd like Blackie Doyle. He's in his thirties but acts like a teenager, chasing girls and such.”

The kid shrugged. “Sounds terrific, but I'm a busy guy, between work, baseball, and high school.”

Hanover High. I couldn't help asking, “Does Mr. Hanson still teach there?”

The kid scowled. “No, thank the good Lord. Five years ago they named him principal. He married a rich dame, and he's on the town council. You know him?”

“We met the last time I was here.”

“Right.” He stuffed the bills in his pocket. “Let me know if you need anything during your stay. Anything at all.”

I stepped into the bathroom for the first time and let out a long whistle. “A bar of soap. Will the amenities never end?”

Laura wrinkled her nose. “When did you become such a snob? This isn't the Waldorf-Astoria.”

I noticed a stain on the ceiling above the bed the size of a placemat. “What's that?”

“A water stain, darling. Don't you remember our first apartment?”

I hefted a bag onto the bed, covered with a simple cream-colored cotton bedspread. “I never noticed, but you've probably seen more flaws in ceilings than I have.”

“Oh!” She fired a hairbrush that narrowly missed my head. “You naughty boy.”

I set about transferring clothes to the bottom two drawers of a maple dresser. Laura grew quiet. Something was wrong. As we unpacked, she eyed the phone. It was obvious she wanted to call her manager without me listening to the conversation. My guess was Paul wanted her to come back to Hollywood right away, and she didn't want me to know.

I finished unpacking, except for a leather case I slid under the bed without Laura noticing. I took a quick glance at the phone on the nightstand beside the bed and decided to make it easier for her. “You hungry, sweetheart?”

“I'm famished. I could use a good meal and a cold beer.”

“I'll head down to the dining room and get us a table for dinner.”

Laura grabbed two nighties and set them in the top drawer. “That sounds wonderful.”

I kissed her cheek and left. I took the stairs and stepped into the lobby, where Edwin's face blanched. “Mr. Donovan, everything is satisfactory, I hope.”

“Everything's perfect.” I glanced inside the dining room, where a couple occupied one of the dozen tables. “We're a little hungry. Laura will be down in a few minutes. Until then I could use some fresh air.”

Outside, I took a deep breath. I walked along the front deck and peered around the corner, where the deck continued on the west side of the inn. A single table with two chairs sat facing the grove of trees. Moonlight reflected off the pond between the deck and the tree line. This would be the perfect place to restart my novel.

I returned to the front of the inn, where Edwin stood waving to a passing gentleman in a brown suit, admiring our rented Ford. “Would it be all right if I set up my typewriter on the west deck tomorrow? Sometimes the outdoors is helpful in my creative process.”

A proud smile swept across his face. “Of course, Mr. Donovan, whatever you need.”

When the phone rang, he hurried toward the door and went inside.

I followed and took a corner booth in the dining room, near the entrance.

The kitchen door flew open and a pretty redhead in a white apron rushed into the room, leaving the door swinging behind her. She looked a lot like Freddy, only a couple of years older and with a few more freckles. If they ever made a movie about Raggedy Ann, she could play the lead.

While the elderly couple stared at her, she glanced around and stopped at the entrance to the dining room. When she peered into the empty lobby, her shoulders sagged. “Damn him! I'm going to kill my brother.” I wasn't sure if she was speaking to me or herself.

I cleared my throat and got her attention. “Is your brother Freddy?”

She turned in my direction and set her hands on her hips. “The louse told me Laura Wilson, the actress, is here!”

The young woman pulled a pack of Camels from her apron pocket. She lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke into the air.

If a flair for the dramatic prepared someone to become an actor, this girl had real potential.

I gestured toward the stairs. “She's upstairs, in the honeymoon suite.”

“Honeymoon suite?” She took another puff. “We don't have a honeymoon suite.”

“Room two oh two.”

“Oh, I get it. It's our only suite.” She flicked the ash of her cigarette onto the floor.

“You must be Ginger.”

The young woman cocked her head. “How do you know my name? Wait, how do you know Laura Wilson's in the suite?”

“I'm Jake Donovan.” I paused a moment to see if she recognized the name. “Her husband.”

“Jake Donovan!” She slipped into the booth and sat across the table. She took another puff and waved the smoke away. “I read all about your ocean-cruise wedding and Hawaiian honeymoon.”

I bet she didn't know about the incident near Amelia Earhart's plane or my near miss at Wheeler Field.

For the first time, a hint of a smile crossed her face. “I'm sure Freddy told you what a movie fan I am. He probably made me sound like some kind of ninny.”

“He didn't mention how nice you were.”

“I don't mean to be.” Ginger batted her eyes and lit the candle in the middle of the table.

I ignored her remark and stared at the growing cigarette ash that threatened to break off onto the table. I slid the table's ashtray beneath the end of her cigarette. “Your butt's about to fall.”

Ginger tapped the cigarette on the side of the ashtray without taking her eyes off me. “Thanks for noticing.”

“You're far too young to be flirting with a married man.”

She let out a puff of air. “It's that obvious?”

I cleared my throat. “Freddy mentioned you want to be an actress.”

Laura stepped into the dining room wearing a casual white dress and a black hat. “There you are, darling.”

Ginger shrieked. She leaped to her feet and stood beside the table, her cigarette dropping to the floor. The girl reached out her hand and might have fainted if I hadn't steadied her arm and eased her back into the booth. “Ginger Conrad, I'd like you to meet my wife, Laura Wilson.”

Laura smiled and stepped on the smoldering cigarette butt. “Are you all right?”

Ginger twirled a strand of her red hair. “I'm so embarrassed.”

“Don't be.” Laura sat beside me and patted Ginger's hand.

Laura always handled fans with grace and understanding, but I couldn't help smile at the young girl's obsession. “Ginger wants to be an actress.”

“Is that so?” Laura always took an interest in aspiring actresses. She'd been one not too long ago. “Have you done much acting?”

She puffed up with pride. “This spring I had the lead in high school in
The Adventures of
Tom Sawyer
.”

“Tom Sawyer.”
Laura chuckled and smiled at me. “Did you hear that, darling?”

Ginger's forehead wrinkled. “What's so funny?”

“That's how Laura and I got together. I played Tom Sawyer. She was Becky Thatcher.”

“It's like it's fate or something.” Ginger stared at me a moment. “Your husband's very handsome.”

Laura smiled. “Only by candlelight.”

“Oh, and on Saturday I'll be Princess Teleka, the chief's daughter who talked him into letting Dutch immigrants settle in what's now Hanover. I deliver a soliloquy that most people consider the highlight of Founder's Day.”

Princess Teleka. I searched my memory. Katie Caldwell was Princess Teleka on Founder's Day.

Laura smiled. “If you'd like, we can chat more about acting before Jake and I leave.”

Ginger looked like she was going to faint again. “Really? How long will you be here?”

Laura glanced at me, as if I knew the answer. “At least through Founder's Day.”

My wife looked genuinely interested in Ginger's acting ambitions, like she might have seen herself in the young girl's eyes. “So why do you want to become an actress?”

Ginger lowered her voice as two women came in and sat at a table. “It's the fastest ticket out of this dump of a town.”

Laura patted Ginger's hand again. “That's what motivated me, as well. I wanted out of my home in Queens. So you're the chef?”

Ginger shook her head. “Chef, maid, whatever my old man says. I like to cook, but we don't really get that many customers these days. Would you like something to eat?”

I smiled. “That's why we're here.”

Freddy bounded into the room, cracking his knuckles. “Hey, princess, Pop says you forgot to take the sheets down from the line. I'll do it for a quarter.”

Ginger ignored her brother, who stayed in the doorway. She rose. “What can I get you?”

Laura cocked her head. “What do you recommend?”

“You can't go wrong with a steak and baked potato and a salad, of course. House dressing okay?”

Laura glanced toward the kitchen. “Right now you could pour motor oil on the salad and I'd scarf it down.”

Ginger laughed until she snorted. “You're as funny as you are in the movies!”

“Funnier.” I held up two fingers. “I'll have the same.”

Her brother held out one hand. “Okay, fifteen cents.”

Ginger smiled. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wilson…and you too, Mr. Donovan,” she said almost as an afterthought.

“Did she tell you about her movie magazine collection?” Freddy laughed.

“Ohh…brothers.” Ginger reached into her apron pocket and flipped him a dime.

Freddy caught the coin, slipped from the dining room, and went outside, banging the screen door behind him.

As Ginger waited on the two women, Laura smiled. “Brother and sister. I suspect they really care for each other.”

“They should. They're Fred and Ginger, just like in the movies.”