Girl Sleuth-Chapter 23

(To read from the beginning go Here.)

Anne patrolled the room like a sentry. 10 paces, 6 paces, 10 paces, six paces. Turn and march. Arggh! She ought to be doing something.

She had already been upstairs once. What would one quick trip hurt? Even if the gang were watching the building from outside, they wouldn’t see her slip up the stairs. There had been no sign of any sinister presence in the street in any event. She had spent enough time peeking through the curtains to know that much.

Head close to the front door, she eased it open an inch. She pressed her face closer, catching the whiff of floor wax and motley cooking smells. Nothing stirred in the hall. She opened the door another few inches and stuck her head out.

The tinny sound of radio jazz slipped under the door of Mrs. Gardiner’s apartment to shimmy down the hall. Otherwise there was only the dry, empty silence of a shell when the hatchlings have departed.

She was creeping herself out. Smiling at her silliness, Anne opened the door resolutely and plunged up the stairs. Her fingers trembled with pent up energy as she piled crisp white paper atop her lovely typewriter case and topped the whole with the precious outline.

Arms filled, she backed through her apartment door and hurried back to the stairs. Her heart pumped like she was in an Easter egg relay race. Giddy energy piled up inside her until she nearly giggled. Yes, she definitely needed something to occupy her mind.

Breathless and racing she barreled around onto the landing and onto the next flight of stairs before realizing someone was coming up.

“Sorry!” Self-consciously she took a step back.

The man raised his head and their gazes met.

It was Handsome.

Anne hurled the typewriter at him. He cast up an arm to block the heavy missile. A thud. A grunt. White paper took wing like a flock of pigeons, fluttering and flapping. Anne whirled and dashed back the way she had come. Stupid. Stupid. She should have stayed put.

Her feet clattered on the stairs, but a heavier tread was starting up behind her. She flung herself into her apartment and through the kitchen. For the second time that day she swarmed toward a fire escape.

She pried at the window lock with sweat-slicked fingers. She had meant to lock trouble out but had only managed to lock herself in with it. A half-formed prayer caught in her throat. The catch grated open a quarter of an inch. A bit more.

A heavy hand grabbed her upper arm. She lashed out with her foot but he seemed ready for her, and sidestepped the attack.

“Hold it, sister.” An ugly blunt nosed revolver was gripped in his other hand.

Anne stilled. Her eyes found Handsome’s face, only he didn’t seem nearly so good-looking this morning. His eyes were bloodshot and stubble leant harsh definition to the planes and angles of his face. Gauntness hung about him as if he had lost twenty pounds overnight.

“Okay. Okay.” She winced as his grip tightened on her arm.

Tears brimmed in his red-rimmed eyes. “Why’d you kill Carol?”

Girl Sleuth-Chapter 22

(To read from the beginning go Here.)

“No. I’ll be fine. I can stay here with Jilly.”

Erik looked her up and down, her calisthenics with the window earlier clearly had him peg her as a nervous Nellie, but she had her pride. “I’ve got a pal. He’s a cop. he’ll come over and keep you girls safe while I’m gone.”

Relief burbled through Anne though she hated to admit it even to herself. She busied herself with cleaning up the mess from the lemons. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

He did not move for a moment, but Anne could not bring herself to meet his gaze.

“It’ll be okay.”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she dashed at them. All she managed to do was get lemon juice in her eyes. With a little cry she rushed to the sink. Who was she trying to kid? She was no intrepid sleuth, no girl Friday, no Lacey Carew. She just wanted the nightmare to be over. She wanted Carol to call and say it had all been a horrible mistake.

Erik placed a tentative arm around her shoulders. How easy it would be to lose herself in the security of strong arms and broad shoulders. When she didn’t pull away he turned her toward him and cradled her head in the hollow of his throat.

His finger curled into the hair at the nape of her neck. “Once I get these papers to the office, they’ll have to take this case seriously. I’ll have more resources and we’ll nail these guys.”

Anne pulled back just a step. “Sorry about that, I got some lemon juice in my eye.”

Their gazes locked for a long minute. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He lowered his mouth toward hers. Anne’s eyes began to drift closed. Then like a dog reaching the end of its chain he stopped short.

He cleared his throat. With an awkward jerky motion he plucked a bit of non-existent fuzz from her cheek. “I better go call Tom.”

He spun on his heel leaving Anne to bang her forehead with the heel of her palm. Good grief she was turning into a goofball. What had gotten into her? Somehow she had slipped out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie and into a Technicolor romantic farce.

She woke Jilly, and by the time she had taken the time to wash her face and brush her hair, Erik’s buddy had arrived. Introductions were completed with a minimum of fuss, and Erik was out the door with the precious evidence.

Tom settled in front of the radio, with his feet up on the coffee table. Unsettled and edgy, Anne retreated to the kitchen to brew more coffee. Jilly cornered her as she spooned grounds into the percolator.

“Anne, I’ve got to get to rehearsal.”

Anne blinked and spilled some of the coffee. “You’ve got to be kidding. Have you forgotten that you were kidnapped last night?”

“I haven’t forgotten. It’s all extremely vivid, thank you very much. I haven’t stopped shaking since last night, and my ankle is killing me, but this role is my shot at the big time. I’m not going to throw it away.”

“It’s not safe. They know where you work.”

“It would be safe if we took Tom with us.”

Anne sighed. She had no desire to go all the way down to the theater. “I’ll tell you what. You take Tom with you and I’ll stay here.”

“Alone?”

“They don’t have any reason to think that I’d be here, so I should be safe enough.”

Jilly seemed to consider. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” And becoming surer by the minute. Some time alone might be just the chance she needed to wrap her head around all that had happened. “Go work your magic on Tom.”

It took even less time for beautiful Jilly to wrap the cop around her finger than Anne had expected. The coffee hadn’t come to a boil before they were out the door with scarcely a toodle loo.

Anne checked the locks on every door and window in the apartment then settled in the spot Tom had vacated. The radio continued to babble and she got up to turn it off. She resumed her seat. The wall clock ticked on and on in monotonous drudgery. When had it become so loud.

She tried to marshal her thoughts. There were things that just didn’t add up. Why for instance would they try so hard to get those papers back unless there were more to them than just the type of paper? Surely they could have moved operations. Murder and kidnapping had only drawn more attention to them.

Her thoughts twisted in on themselves spinning and swirling away like overcooked spaghetti. She stood and paced the room. Back and forth, back and forth. As monotonous as the ticking clock.

What she needed was something to distract her. Something else on which she could focus. And she knew just the thing. She had to get cracking on The Mystery in the Mango Grove. Just like Jilly, this was her big break. Or at least it could be. The only problem was that her typewriter was upstairs in her apartment.

Girl Sleuth-Chapter 21

(To read from the beginning go Here.)

The doorknob twisted. Anne released the lamp and whirled. She had to get out. She slipped into the kitchen as the front door swung in. Her fingers trembled as she shoved the window up and open. Confident steps sounded on the wooden floor of the living room, coming straight for her.

She sat on the window sill and thrust her legs out onto the fire escape. Her heart seemed suddenly to plunge from her chest to the ground twenty feet below. Dear God, she’d forgotten all about Jilly sleeping peacefully in the bedroom.

She turned back just as the kitchen door eased inward. No time. No time. She twisted her torso to flee through the window.

“Anne?”

She stiffened and looked back. “Erik?”

Eyebrows raised and mouth pursed in bemusement he stood in the middle of the kitchen carrying a brown paper sack. “Something wrong?”

Hand to her chest, Anne clambered back into the apartment. “Only that you scared me to death.”

“I know I don’t look my best in the morning, but don’t you think that’s an exaggeration.”

Anne smoothed her hands over her skirt. She must have looked like an utter idiot. “I thought you were one of the gang.”

“Why would you think that?” He plunked the bag down on the table.

Anne licked her lips. He had lectured her for at least twenty minutes about the dangers of going back to her apartment unaccompanied. Best to sidestep the question if she could. “I guess my imagination got the better of me. It’s the writer’s blessing and curse, you know.”

He continued to eye her oddly. “Maybe next time you have an uncontrollable craving for lemonade we ought to send someone else.” He reached for the bag and upended it. A dozen or more, sunny, yellow lemons bounced and tumbled onto the table.

“Why did you get so many?”

He huffed air through his nostrils. “Better to many than too few. So what’s with the demand for citrus?”

Anne grinned and pulled Carol’s papers from her skirt pocket. “I’ve been thinking about it and the answer may lie in The Adventure of the Notorious Note.”

He continued to look mystified and Anne held up one of the lemons. “Lacey Carew solved that one by using lemon juice to reveal a message that had been written in invisible ink.”

Understanding lit his eyes then and he grinned.

She laid the papers out and he handed her a knife and a clean kitchen rag. She cut the lemon in half and squeezed juice over the cloth. The fresh scent of lemon filled the kitchen. Carefully she dabbed at the first page, covering every inch of its surface. Hardly able to breath, she waited.

Nothing.

She repeated the process with the other pages, as Erik looked on expectantly.

Nothing.

She slumped into a chair. It didn’t make any sense. She’d been so sure. So if there wasn’t a hidden message, what about these papers made them so special that VanDyke’s gang would resort to kidnapping and maybe murder to get them back.

Erik sat beside her and patted her arm in commiseration. He picked up the slightly damp pages and held them up to the light. “Maybe it’s faded.”

Anne shook her head. It was nice of him to try to make her feel better, but there were limits. “No. It’s not.”

He frowned and lowered the papers. Now she’d hurt his feelings. He hung his chin, thumb and forefinger rubbing the document in absent contemplation. It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize when he lifted his head and met her gaze. His grin was so infectious that she couldn’t help but respond.

“It’s the paper.”

She swallowed her smile. A late night and an early morning errand for lemons had obviously left him overly tired. “Um, yes. It’s paper.”

“No.” He waved a hand. “They want the paper. There’s no code or hidden message. It’s the paper itself that is important.”

Anne shook her head.

“U.S. currency is printed on a special kind of paper made from cotton fibers. This kind of paper.” He thrust the pages under her nose.

Her jaw dropped in the manner patented by actresses everywhere to indicate surprise.

“This is the proof we need. I’ve got to get it to the office. Will you be okay if I head downtown?” He looked at her and then glanced at the window. “Maybe it would be best if you come with me.”

Girl Sleuth-Chapter 20

(To read from the beginning go Here.)

Lemons.

Anne jolted awake. She lay still for a moment, every inch of her tensed like a jack-in-the-box poised to spring. Rosy afternoon sunlight slipped through the cracks in the unfamiliar blinds. Jilly snored peacefully next to her on the bed.

Anne blinked against the sleep that threatened to overwhelm her again. Pigeons cooed and warbled outside the window. Traffic rumbled in the street, the lullaby of the city. Her eyelids drifted lower.

No!

She had to wake up, to remember. Anne forced herself away from the bed’s comforting embrace. Barefoot, and wearing nothing more than her slip, she stood in the center of the room. Eyes narrowed she stared at the cheerful, but barren lemon colored wall.

Lemon.

Yes, that was it.

She had to find Erik. Her clothes from the night before were laid at the end of the bed and she wriggled into them in a flash.

Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Lacey Carew and the Adventure of the Notorious Note had been Carol’s favorite growing up. It all made sense.

Erik stood in his kitchen dumping coffee into the percolator. His movements were so slow she wondered for a second whether he was sleepwalking.

“Erik?”

He whirled, coffee scattered, his right hand leapt to his left side in search of his holster.

“Whoa.” Palms out, she stepped back.

His cheeks flushed and his shoulders sagged. “Sorry, I’m not used to having people around my place.

“I need a lemon.”

“A lemon?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Now?”

“As soon as possible. It’s important.” Anne reached for the coffee. “I’ll do that, you go scrounge a lemon.”

“Can I shave first?”

“Not unless you want me to go do it myself.”

He shook his head. “I’ll go. I’ll go. I assume you don’t have any objections to me putting on shoes?”

“Not if you hurry.”

He grouched from the room, muttering something uncomplimentary about women and setting the swinging kitchen door to squealing.

Anne put the coffee to perking. The front door banged shut, and she scurried from the kitchen in search of her pumps. She had to hurry.

Her heels clicked on the stairs as she hurried up the stairs to her apartment. She tore through into the kitchen and knelt by the table. Her fingers brushed the underside of the table, searching, reaching.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. What if The Guide or one of his fellow bogeymen were lurking nearby in the hopes she was foolish enough to come back alone?

She reached further. There it was. Triumphant she pulled the taped envelope from beneath the table. She pounded back down the stairs and back into Erik’s apartment, locking the door behind her.

She leaned up against the door, for some reason she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Somehow they needed to solve this. Living with this fear for much longer would drive her batty.

The doorknob rattled and a heavy weight thudded up against it. Anne sucked in a breath so quickly that she half-choked. She sidled away from the door.

The knob rattled again.

Her arm brushed against a lampshade, and she picked it up by the neck.

Girl Sleuth-Chapter 19

(To read from the beginning go Here.)

Anne glanced down at Jilly. There was no way she could continue the cat-and-mouse game with her injured ankle. But maybe she could make one short dash.

Anne risked another peek to gauge the car’s distance and speed. They’d only have one chance. Tugging on Jilly’s hand, she hauled her friend back up the stairs.

“Wait.” Her whispered caution wafted on the air, barely discernible above the grumble of the car’s engine.

The car grew nearer, prowling the streets for trouble. It was about to find some.

“Now!”

Half-crouched, Anne sprinted from hiding. She waved her hands trying to draw the driver’s attention. Knowing the men looking for them were just across the street, she couldn’t quite bring herself to scream. Jilly had no such compunctions and at the sound of her blood-curdling shriek, the police car skidded to a stop.

Still crouched to avoid getting shot, Anne rapped on the driver’s side window. “You’ve got to help us.”

“Men are trying to kill us.” Jilly rested against Anne’s back.

The officer started to open the door.

“No!” Both Anne and Jilly blurted.

“Please take us with you.”

In a breathless rush, Anne spilled their story.

The officers glanced at one another. They said not a word, but seemed to communicate with one another regardless. Shaking his head, the driver opened the door for them, and they climbed inside.

So far, so good. They had made it. Surely the goons wouldn’t risk firing on a police car.

“So, uh, where’s this place where you were held?”

Anne leaned forward. “It’s just down the street there.”

They cruised down the street the way Anne and Jilly had just come. Dark shadows dodged and scurried before the car’s headlights. Hunched low in the back seat, Anne peered out the window. Every house in the row looked the same. Which one held Van Dyke and his hoodlums?

She glanced over to Jilly. Her friend shook her head. She didn’t recognize the house either. Anne rubbed her forehead. The cops were already giving each other the lets-humor-the-overwrought-females look.

They made three passes up and down the street, but Anne couldn’t say with any certainty which house they had come from. It was somewhere in the middle, and that was hardly helpful.

“Why don’t we take you ladies back to the station and we’ll have one of the detectives take a report.”

Defeated, Anne nodded.

Together she and Jilly spilled the story to a skeptical Jack Morris. She couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for the tale. It sounded far-fetched as it tumbled out in disconnected strands. Shaking her head she asked to make a phone call.

Erik answered on the first ring.

Weariness hit her like an anvil landing on Daffy Duck. She couldn’t even summon any rage when Detective Morris effectively patted them on the head and sent them on their way with a few bucks for the train ride back to New York.

The sun was rising, looking entirely too cheerful for Anne. Jilly refused to go to the hospital to have her ankle checked out. If possible, she looked even more wrung out than Anne felt.

Erik met them at the station. The expression on his face boded unpleasant conversation to come. He refrained for the moment, however; and Anne wanted to kiss him for not jumping down her throat.

Instead, after one look at them, his eyes turned tender and he shepherded them out to his car. Granted, it was a rattletrap old Plymouth but it was miles better than the subway.

“You can’t go back to your apartment. Since they know where you live it wouldn’t be safe.”

Anne let her head fall back against the seat. She heaved a sigh that started all the way down in her toes. She couldn’t make any more decisions. “Where are we to go?”

“We’ll sneak you into my apartment.”

Anne cracked open a single eye. “Doesn’t the secret service have some sort of safe house or something?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what? We don’t rate?”

Erik pretended to focus on the nearly non-existent traffic. “No, it has nothing to do with you.”

Anne shook her head. She was too tired to try to work out what he meant.

He cleared his throat. “It’s me. I’m, um, relatively new to the agency. So I don’t have much—any clout.”

She narrowed her eyes. So that was why he hadn’t pushed her harder. “You’ve been investigating this all on your own, haven’t you?”

The furious flush that seared his cheekbones was all the answer she needed.

“How did you swing the apartment?”

The tiniest grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m new to the city. I had to find someplace to live.”

At the back of her mind, the sense that she ought to be put out with him pricked her, but she couldn’t summon the energy for an argument. At least not that one.

Girl Sleuth-Chapter 18

(To read from the beginning go Here.)

The brick and concrete canyon of the street ricocheted the sound of their pounding feet back at them. Anne stumbled, too busy trying to glance over her shoulder. At the most they had two or three minutes head start.

Steadying herself with a snatch at a stoop railing, she managed to stay on her feet. They needed people, light, noise, some sort of shield against recapture. Were there no nightowls in East Orange? Not a single light shone in any of the windows that lined the street. Should they try to rouse someone? How long would it take them to get to the door? Screaming might draw all the wrong kinds of attention and no help.

In front of her, Jilly staggered and sprawled. The heel of her shoe stayed planted in a crack in the sidewalk.

Anne knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”

Jilly winced and sat up, one hand rubbing her ankle. Anne truned as she caught the wash of light down the street as a door opened. Their time was up.

“Come on, kiddo. We’ve got to get going.” With Jilly’s arm around her neck she hauled her friend up.

Her frantic gaze found not so much as an alley between the block of row houses. They weren’t far from the corner. If they could just get out of sight they might have a chance to hide. There was no chance they could outrun Van Dyke and his minions now.

She was stupid, stupid, stupid. She should never have ditched Erik. What she wouldn’t give to see him right now. IF they got out of this mess, she would go straight to him.

They skittered around the corner. Poor Jilly was hobbling as quickly as she could, her face set in a grim mask of pained determination. Anne scanned the street. There had to be someplace to hide.

A dark narrow alley bordered the back row of the houses. They could dive in there, maybe even double-back the way they had come. Unless of course VanDyke had sent one of his goombas out the back to make sure they hadn’t gone that way.

A narrow stairwell leading to the basement of a butcher’s shop, and half hidden by a conglomeration of trashcans showed itself on the other side of the street.

Behind her heavy feet thumped in big band rhythm, nearer, faster.

She couldn’t waste time dithering. The stairwell would have to do.

“C’mon, Jilly. Just over there.” Anne nodded with a thrust of her chin.

Jilly nodded agreement sweat beading on her forehead. Together they scrambled for the scant cover.

Jilly collapsed on the bottom step, bending until her head touched her knees. Fingers kneading her ankle as her shoulder shuddered with silent sobs.

Anne stood and peered through a gap between trashcans. The Guide and Handsome stood at the corner, heads swiveling in either direction.

The mutter of a car engine up the road hit Anne’s ears. The beam of a pair of headlights sliced a gulf between her and the goons. She craned to see the approaching vehicle.

A squad car!

Handsome and The Guide pulled back into the alley opposite.

Anne licked her lips. They could stay put and risk being found and shot, or risk getting shot sooner as they tried to flag down help. Could nothing ever be easy?

Special Edition-Beyond This Moment by Tamera Alexander

After a devastating mistake, Dr. Molly Whitcomb, professor of Romance Languages at Franklin College, is forced from the only life she's ever aspired to. Packing up her pride along with her beloved books, she leaves to teach school in Timber Falls, a little town in the heart of the Colorado Rockies. There she meets Sheriff James McPherson who shows her the beauty to be found in her new lifestyle. Everything begins to unravel as the web of deception she has used to protect herself begins to fray. My biggest complaint about the book is that it ended too soon. I simply wasn't ready to let go of Molly and James.  

Ms. Alexander is a master of her craft. She keeps you flipping the pages avidly, even when you're not certain you want to know what happens next. Definitely Recommended.

You can easily find it at Christianbooks.com or Amazon, or in brick and mortar stores such as Barnes and Noble. I know you will enjoy it as much as I did.