The War Against Miss Winter (20 page)

“R
UBY?
”R
UBY
P
RIEST—STRIPPED OF MAKEUP,
hair in an untidy bun—lay sprawled, dogs in the air, drawers on display. I shook the confusion out of my noodle and leaned against the wall for support. This wasn’t happening. I was seeing things.

Ruby walked her hands up the wall and rose to her feet. Irritation creased her face. “You need to leave. Now.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Jayne.

Ruby grabbed us by the upper arms and attempted to escort us out the door. “I’m serious.”

We stood our ground and leaned away from her hold. “I know you’re serious,” I said, “but we’re not going to move one toe until we know what’s going on.”

Ruby’s mouth opened and closed as she hunted for a threat to wield at us. When nothing emerged greater than the damage we could do, she released her hold and started toward the living room. “Then at least close the door and keep your voices down.”

We clammed up until we were back in Eloise’s museum of bad art and uncomfortable furniture. “What’s the story, Rube?” I asked.

She sat on the bench with a huff and examined a hole that had sprouted in her stocking. “I’m doing research for a part.”

“Let me guess:
The Servant with Two Masters
?”

She narrowed her eyes and I could tell she was doing battle with whether to continue protesting our presence or to tell us the truth and hope it would encourage us to sneak.

“Whatever it is you’re researching,” I said, “it’s not for WEAF. See, Jayne’s been listening and she has yet to hear your voice on air.”

Jayne nodded her confirmation.

“So now you’re both detectives? I told you I needed a job.”

I sat in a chair that resembled a medieval torture device and offered the same level of relief. “You’ve got a job. You’ve got
In the Dark
, not to mention everything you’ve raked in from Bentley’s swill. You must be rolling in dough.” I was angry and I wasn’t sure why. It just seemed Ruby wasn’t supposed to be cleaning up after people. She was supposed to be wearing a Dior gown and having drinks under the clock at the Biltmore while plotting the next part she intended to steal. “Are you in trouble?” I asked.

She tilted her face heavenward. “I just need money. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Frankly, yes. I’ve seen your collection of glad rags. You don’t need money—you need a day in my shoes.”

She clasped her hands together and pleaded with some unnamed force to give her strength. “I didn’t buy those things, Rosie; I was given them. If I could’ve gotten cash instead, I would’ve gladly taken it.”

Numbers filled my mind and began to waltz. How could she be on the nut? We lived in the same rooming house, chewed the same food (and when she ate better it was on someone else’s dime), encountered identical costs. Where was this great drain on her pocketbook that forced her to lower herself to polishing Eloise’s silver? “Why?”

Ruby’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s none of your business.”

“I thought we’d established that it is now. Put us wise or we’ll start making things up.”

She bowed her head. “My parents are in Europe. I promised them I’d get them out before things got any worse.”

My stomach fell to the floor; I couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d told me FDR had joined the Bund.

“Where in Europe?” I asked.

Ruby paused a breath too long. If I were directing the scene, I would’ve told her to pick up the pace so it didn’t look like she’d forgotten her line. “Um…Poland.”

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Do you have a problem with that?” she snapped.

Jayne put her hand on mine and dropped into the seat beside me. “Of course she doesn’t. So you’re not American?”

“Technically, no, though I’ve been here for years. My aunt raised me.”

Jayne scrunched her forehead. “But you don’t have an—”

“Accent?” finished Ruby. She laughed to establish that even in this she had superiority. “I learned English at a young age and realized that if I wanted to be an actress, I would have to be an American.” She paused and flashed me an accusatory look. “So now you know.”

“I’m sorry.” I bowed my head. Maybe she was telling the truth. It was possible she was not only human but loved people enough to make an enormous sacrifice for them. Who was I to question her? I couldn’t even write a letter to Jack.

“Why not go to Hollywood?” asked Jayne. “There’s money in pictures. You’re good enough for them.”

A flicker of pride passed through Ruby’s eyes. “I know I’m talented, but the Shaw House is the only address they have.” She picked at her skirt, removing something only she could see. “I haven’t heard from them in over a year. The Nazis…” Her voice broke. “All of my letters have come back unopened.”

I didn’t have a witty comeback for that. Nobody did. “I’m so sorry, Ruby.”

She cut the air with her hand. “What do you care? This war wasn’t worth your attention until they bombed Pearl Harbor.”

I fought the urge to retaliate. “You’re right. It must be very…” My voice trailed off. “My…Jack shipped out last month. I know it’s not the same, but I have a sense, maybe, of what you’re…” No, I didn’t. Even with my loose connection to the war, I didn’t have a clue what she was going through. “I wished you’d said something before.”

“Why?” Her eyes were dark and striking, no longer brilliant in their china-doll blue. “So you could have more of a reason to hate me?”

“We don’t hate you.”

She rolled her peepers at the lack of conviction in my voice.

“You can be difficult,” I said. “Trying even. But we never hated you.
Right, Jayne?” My pal nodded. “And knowing you’re Polish wouldn’t have changed our feelings one way or another.”

Jayne twisted her fingers into a church, then a steeple. “Does Lawrence know?”

“God, no. Lawrence can’t even stand foreign food.”

“What about this job?” asked Jayne. “Doesn’t Eloise know who you are?”

Ruby smiled and stared down at broken fingernails lined in kitchen dirt. “For somebody as wealthy as she is, she isn’t a very cultured person. Besides, I don’t play myself here. I figured if I was going to demean myself, I wasn’t going to demean
myself
. I created a character who bares no resemblance to Ruby Priest.”

Judging from her appearance, that meant she bathed biweekly at best. “How long are you planning on doing this?” I asked.

“Until I have enough money.” Her eyes again grew moist. She took a deep breath intended to bury her emotion.

Jayne pulled a hankie out of her pocketbook. “You can cry, Ruby. It’s all right.”

“I don’t want to cry.” Her eyes lit upward as she fought to keep her impulses in check. It was beautiful and sad, and yet I was finding it harder and harder to buy what she was selling. An immigrant actress overcoming her past to succeed in the New World? Beloved parents missing in a faraway land? The brave and beautiful heroine forced to sacrifice her burgeoning career for her family? It was starting to sound too much like a Twentieth Century Fox flick.

“You can’t tell anybody,” said Ruby.

“We won’t,” said Jayne.

“I’m serious. Not a word about the job or my family. I know how you two are.”

The lady was protesting too much. We were hardly the worst of the leaking buckets at the Shaw House. “Now that you mention it…” If she was telling the truth, I was about to make myself look colder than Charles Lindbergh denouncing the Allies at an America First rally. “It’s not like Jayne and I owe you any favors. As a matter of fact, I believe
you owe me one.”

“What are you saying?”

I stood and walked the length of the room. “Just that you’re asking an awful lot. Keeping quiet about your family isn’t that big a deal, but in order to forget about this job of yours, Jayne and I will have to queer things to a lot of people who’ve been asking questions about what you’re up to. If we’re going to keep this secret, it’s going to require quite a bit of effort on our parts.”

Ruby rubbed her hands together. “What do you want?”

Jayne could barely contain her fury at my behavior. “Rosie—”

I dismissed her with a wave. “We need a spy,” I told Ruby. “You have something we need: access to this apartment. We want you to find whatever dirt you can on Eloise.”

Ruby crossed her arms. “I’m not about to get involved in something illegal. If you think you can blackmail me into doing your dirty work, I’d rather have the whole world know the truth about me.”

“Oh, give us break,” I said. “We’re not asking you to do anything below the board.” She held her stance, arms rigid, face haughty. If she’d had a sword, she would’ve been Joan of Arc. “We’re looking for a play,” I said.

“You said you’d keep your mouth shut.” Jayne stomped her foot like a petulant child.

I ignored her. “Look, supposedly Raymond Fielding’s great masterwork went missing right before he died. It turns out your new boss was his lover and her son is the fruit of that relationship. Fielding hired Jim McCain to help him find the missing play, and both he and Fielding ended up dead shortly thereafter. I think the play revealed something about someone that they didn’t want to get out. A number of people are awfully interested in where it’s gone off to, including Eloise and Edgar. We want to know why, and I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts the reason exists in this apartment.”

Ruby eased into a recline. She was now Cleopatra. “So you don’t believe Eloise has this play?”

“Not yet,” I said. “But she and her son seem to be working hard to find it. Do we have a deal?”

Ruby nodded and smoothed her skirt across her knees. “I think so.”

“Y
OU PROMISED ME YOU
’
D KEEP
your mouth shut,” said Jayne. She and I were on the street, heading away from the Waldorf. Ruby had advised us to scram before Eloise returned.

“The opportunity was too good to pass up. You know as well as I do that if there’s something in that apartment, Ruby will find it.”

Jayne couldn’t meet my eyes. “I just can’t believe you were so…cold. You were practically blackmailing her right after she told us—”

“A bunch of hooey.” I buttoned up my coat and bent into the wind. “I don’t believe a word she said.”

“War doesn’t discriminate, Rosie. All victims aren’t likable people.”

“Oh, I believe that; I just don’t believe
her
. She thinks we’re a couple of saps.”

“Because she’s Ruby or because the story doesn’t wash?”

“Both,” I said. “Think about it, Jayne: the Ruby Priest we know wouldn’t think twice about selling her grandma if she thought it would put her in a better position. Plus, there’s a servant shortage on. You can’t tell me that out of every mucky-muck in New York who needs a maid, she just
happens
to end up working for Eloise.”

Jayne scrunched her nose while she pondered the evidence. “How could anyone lie about a family torn apart by war?”

“When it comes to Ruby, I think it’s better not to ask any questions,” I said. “For now we’ve got some help, even if it does come attached to a sour puss.” We were heading down Park Avenue as evening turned to night. I hadn’t been in this area past sundown since the dim-out started. It was unnerving to see that even the opulent hotels and homes had to obey the law and lower their lights. In the near dark there was no telling rich from poor; with our cheap coats and handbags we could pretend
we belonged.

Jayne paused to pick a pebble out of her shoe. As she refastened her pump, a flivver pulled up beside us and popped open its rear door.

“Get in,” said a familiar voice.

“Run!” I told Jayne.

Everything that followed came in a blur. The voice repeated its command, stressing its sincerity with a disembodied hand bearing a gun. I turned to make sure Jayne had heeded my advice and found her still planted beside me. A second hand emerged from the car and grabbed hold of my wrist. The gun pressed against my temple and my body went limp. As I was maneuvered like a rag doll, I was overtaken with a horrendous case of nausea. This, it turned out, was my body’s way of responding to fear.

“You too, blondie,” said the voice. “Climb on in here nice and quiet and Rosie won’t even get a bruise.”

My temple throbbed that it was already too late for that.

I made it into the backseat of the car, closely followed by Jayne. I swallowed hard against the rising acidic mix of lunch and terror. The doors closed and I blinked at my dark surroundings, trying to make sense of where we were and who was with us. At last Edgar Fielding came into view. Seconds after I made him, Jayne gasped in recognition.

The good news was I was familiar with our adversary. The bad news was I was familiar with our adversary.

I clucked my tongue and put a reassuring hand on Jayne’s. The nausea left me and in its place my lower body began to shake as though the temperature had plummeted. “I see you found a gun, Edgar; good for you, though I’m starting to take this very personally. If I’m to believe we’re friends, I must insist you be unarmed in my presence.”

He angled his revolver until I was staring straight into the barrel. “Still being smart?”

“Still being dumb as a box of hammers?” I squeezed Jayne’s hand to will the chill out of her flesh and put an end to my ridiculous shaking. If we were going to get out of this, we both needed our full wits. The car continued to idle at the curb. The front seat was separated from the
back by a closed panel that prevented us from seeing the driver but not him from hearing us. I had half a mind to tell him to think of our boys in blue and kill the engine.

“Forgive my rudeness,” I said. “I believe you’ve met Jayne?”

“She was looking better the last time I saw her, but, yeah, I’ve met her.”

Jayne bristled beside me and her hand clenched mine so hard I was certain my fingers would never be straight again.

“Now that the small talk is over, what do you want, Edgar?”

He lowered the rod. “I understand you paid my mother a visit today.”

My eyes flickered around the vehicle, trying to determine if there was anything that might assist our escape. Aside from ourselves and the gun, the backseat was bare. “I don’t know if I’d call it a visit. She didn’t even offer us a beverage.”

Edgar smiled—or at least sneered. It was hard to tell in the dark. “I was surprised when Mother told me you stopped by, especially when she said you claimed I insisted you do it.”

“All this over a little fib? If you’re going to get upset every time I lie, this relationship isn’t going to go anywhere.” I sighed and shook my head. “Pipe this: I didn’t bother to look at the check you gave me until today and I realized I was still owed some dough. I needed to be paid and I figured the only way that was going to happen was through a personal visit. Forgive me, but a girl’s got to eat.”

He responded to my monologue with slow clapping that didn’t resonate very well with the rod in his hand. “Bravo. That was Mother’s explanation as well, but I give you more credit than that. I think you went to see her for another reason.”

“You do have the nicest bathroom in Manhattan.”

“And if all of this was over payment, why is it you’re just now leaving the Waldorf?”

“Dinner,” Jayne croaked.

“You expect me to believe you two dined at the Waldorf?”

I followed Jayne’s lead. “What can I say? Your ma’s check burned a hole in my pocket and the concierge was more than happy to cash it on
her behalf. Perhaps next time you can join us? Have your girl call our service.” I reached across Jayne for the door handle.

Edgar cocked his gun. “I’m getting tired of your flippancy.”

I receded back into my seat. “Imagine how we feel.”

“I told you to stay out of our business, but since you two seem incapable of doing that, I guess I’ll have to take further measures to ensure your silence.”

I held my position and my tongue. If he was going to pump me full of lead, it was going to be because of his itchy finger not my big mouth.

Jayne shifted until her skirt kissed the tops of her thighs and left the rest of her on display. “Isn’t this getting silly, Edgar?” she asked. “All this excitement over a little play. Surely it’s not worth killing someone over?”

Edgar smiled wide, showing an impossible number of teeth for the size of his mouth. “What’s two more bodies?” He knocked against the panel separating us from the driver. “Drive.”

The car slipped into gear and Jayne’s hand shattered my fingers. Before we could pull forward, a light tapping sounded outside Jayne’s window.

Edgar ignored the noise and again signaled to the driver. “I said drive on.”

“I can’t,” said a muffled voice. The speaker had a lisp, which made me hope we were being chauffeured by a small child who could easily be overcome with a stern reprimand and a promise of sweets. “Somebody’s out there. Blocking me.”

Edgar gestured for Jayne to roll down her window. As she worked, he took my arm and planted the butt of his gun firmly in my back. I held my uncomfortable position as the glass descended and Al came into view.

“What can I do for you, pal?” asked Edgar.

“I thought that was you,” said Al. “Here I was walking down the street and I see these two dames and think to myself: there goes Jayne and Rosie. How’re you two doing?”

“We’ve been better,” squeaked Jayne.

“I heard about what happened to your face, Jayne. Rest assured,
Tony’s given me full rein to do whatever I like to whoever was behind it.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’d just love to get a hold of that guy. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Edgar Fielding,” I said. “Jim’s stepson.”

“Good guy, Jim. He was practically family to me.” Al glanced at his watch. “Say, I’m going to meet Tony B. right now and I know he’s dying to catch up with you two. Why don’t you let us buy you a drink?”

Edgar rammed the gun between my ribs. “Busy,” I gasped. “Real busy.”

Al put his elbows on the door and stuck his head through the window. “Ah, come on now—no one’s too busy for Tony B. You know Tony B., Edgar?”

Edgar shook his head.

“He’s a good guy, but he’s got these two flaws: he hates it when people mess with his girl and he don’t take too well to being insulted.”

The gun found my kidney and rested on it like a tumor. “All the same, we’re booked up for the night,” I said. “Give Tony our regards.”

Al nodded slowly. “Will do.” He pulled himself out of the window and spun away from the car. Before he could complete the pivot, he turned back to us and put a large red hand on the door. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a rod in your back, would you, Rosie?” The butt went deeper than should’ve been possible without surgical intervention. “’Cause your friend here might want to know there’s a piece trained on the back of his head on the other side of the car. Now, he could choose to shoot you, which would be unfortunate, or he can let both of you out of the car and we’ll walk away like nothing ever happened.”

The gun left my insides and disappeared into the upholstery. “You’re overreacting, pal,” said Edgar. “The ladies and I were just having a friendly chat.”

Al rattled the door to let us know he could rip it off its hinges if he had to. “Be that as it may, the ladies are leaving with me.” He pulled open our door and yanked Jayne out of her seat. I scrambled after her
and ducked behind Al. From this vantage there wasn’t another soul on the street. Every movement we made echoed.

“I’m going to count on you to stay away from these ladies from now on,” said Al. “Even one of your tires rolls near them, I’m going to see to it that iron of yours ain’t the only thing shoved between your seats.” Al slammed the back door shut and pounded on the driver’s window. The flivver pulled away with a squeal of tires.

Jayne and I huddled as close as twins in the womb. I had an overwhelming desire to hug Al, but before I could act on it, he took a deep breath and made like he was going to say something. His index finger rose into the air, ready to tick off whatever point he wanted to make. The impulse escaped him, and he took another breath and again sliced the air with his hand. “Don’t ever get in a car with an armed man,” he said.

“We didn’t have a choice,” I said.

“There’s always a choice. A guy with a gun in the back of a bucket ain’t got no intention of you leaving that backseat any way but in a meat wagon. Get it?” He shook his head in what I imagined was a perfect impression of his mother catching him in some childhood crime. “Is that the guy who worked you over, Jayne?”

She talked to her feet. “Maybe.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been following you?”

“We had a plan,” she said.

I disentangled myself from her. “We did?”

She elbowed me in the ribs. “Of course we did. We didn’t walk into this blind.”

We were in front of a storefront filled with photos of veterans from this war and the one before. Even in the darkness I could make out the stark black-and-white images. Some lay in hospital beds, their abdomens swathed in bandages. Others sat in wheelchairs or posed on crutches, their fifty-watt grins not bright enough to hide their missing limbs. A large sign sitting in the center of the images reminded us,
ONE PINT CAN SAVE A MAN.
It certainly didn’t take much to sustain a life, and even less to end one.

Al turned his attention back to me. “I thought you were going to stay out of this now. What are you doing going to see Eloise McCain? That’s asking for grief.”

Jayne rose onto her tiptoes and addressed Al’s chest. “It wasn’t her idea—it was mine.”

He glanced at his watch, then looked at the rising moon as though it were a more dependable portent of time. “I got to go. I’m getting you a yellow back to your house. You guys get inside and don’t leave your room until morning. And you’d better hope I don’t tell Tony about this.” He turned to leave.

Jayne darted after him and blocked his path. “We’re not children.”

“I don’t remember saying you were.”

She stabbed him with her index finger. “You might as well have with all that talk of telling Tony.”

“I’m here to protect you, see? That’s my job. You want to get worked over again? ’Cause those are the options.”

Jayne puffed out her chest. “I happen to think Rosie and I were doing just fine on our own. Do you see a bruise on us?” Her tone was clipped and irritated. Almost being killed had put her in a foul mood.

“Fine. You two don’t need my help, then I won’t be around no more.” He stepped backward, the light from a passing car illuminating his face for the first time since he’d appeared. His eyes were red-rimmed, his schnozzle stained the same bright crimson.

“You got a cold?” I asked.

“Never mind about me.” He pulled a hankie from his pocket and blew his nose. “I’m going. You two take care.”

I crossed my arms and leaned against a lamppost. “Don’t be that way, Al. We need you.” He shrugged and showed me his back. “We’re on the verge of putting this whole thing together and the fact of is, neither of us wants to back down until it’s done. Before you showed up, Edgar so much as told us that he and his ma had killed someone.”

“So?”

I widened my eyes. “So maybe that someone was Jim.” Al looked unconvinced. “Look, I’m starting to think Jim and Fielding aren’t the only
stiffs this play’s going to leave in its wake. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this for them and whoever might be next.”

Al turned back to me. “What do you two expect me to do?”

“We’ve got some questions for you,” I said.

A wet cough wracked his body. “Maybe I’ve got some answers.” He pulled out a deck of Luckies that looked as if it had spent most of its life beneath a couch cushion.

“You shouldn’t be smoking if you’ve got a cold.”

He patted himself down, looking for his lighter. “If I wanted a lecture, I’d call my ma.” He tapped out a cigarette and within seconds wielded its glowing red ember.