Speak Easy Speak Danger

by Sharon G Clark

  Then Tessa realized she could make out slight sound, muffled shouts, and then— Was that a gunshot? Followed by more shouts. Oh, dear Lord, was Jo out there? Had she come to help Tessa, only to get in the way of the killer? Body trembling, imagining all manner of horrific scenarios that ended badly for Jo, Tessa began to cry. Pounding footsteps echoed through the outer stairwell, and then the rattle of the apartment door. Tessa clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the startled exclamation. No sooner had she done so, then the blessed sound of Jo’s panicked voice reached her.

  “Tessa? Tessa, where are you?”

  Tears streamed down her face as she pushed open the armoire door, struggled to her feet, and launched herself into Jo’s waiting arms. “Oh, Jo, I am so sorry.”

  Jo’s embrace grew tighter, but Tessa caught the sound of her quiet laughter. “Honey, why are you sorry?”

  “I put you in danger when I called you. You could’ve been killed. For being a bother. I woke you. I heard gunshots. Oh God, I was—”

  Jo pushed Tessa an arm’s length away and stared at her with incredulity. “The shots fired were a warning. I’m fine. Have you any idea how I would have felt if I couldn’t have been here for you?” Tessa stared at her and saw Jo’s confusion and frustration. “I can’t let anyone down again. Especially not now, not with you.”

  Tessa recognized her own confusion. Jo hadn’t let her down. Why did she believe she had? “Jo?” Tessa never got any further in her inquiry, interrupted by a soft knock at the apartment door.

  “Excuse me, Miss Langford?” Tessa recognized Randall Braddock’s voice.

  She moved away from Jo and turned toward the door. “Just a minute,” she said, grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed and pulled it on. Jo flashed a smile, probably meant to offer reassurance. As Tessa made her way to the young officer, she felt the warm addition of Jo’s hand to her lower back. The small gesture filled Tessa with feelings of safety, more so than the presence of the male police officer.

  “How are you doing, ma’am? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Randall asked.

  She shook her head. “No, no, I’m fine.” Tessa pointed to the couch. “May I sit down?”

  Randall nodded. “Of course, my apologies.” He remained standing until both she and Jo sat down, Jo grasped her hand as if feeding Tessa strength through their combined grip. “Thanks to Jo’s phone call, and me working late, I arrived in time to see the perpetrator attempt to enter the premises.” He smiled at her. Tessa saw in his eyes and his expressions, a resolve that would make him a great police officer. And an empathy her brother would never possess. Tessa hoped men like her brother wouldn’t dissolution him from his chosen career. “I won’t bore you but, suffice it to say, we caught the guy. He is in our custody.” He flashed a grimace. “Also, as a matter of protocol, your brother has been notified.”

  Tessa nodded her understanding even if she wished he hadn’t needed to make that call. “What happens now?” she asked.

  “I’ll survey the scene, make notes, and go back to the station to write up my report.” Randall shot a quick glance and wink to Jo, then said, “You probably saved your own life, not just hearing and alerting us, but having new locks put in. I hope an incident like this doesn’t happen again but, if a next time, call the police first.”

  Tessa felt embarrassment heat her face. “I was scared and not thinking clearly.”

  “Since it worked out, I won’t scold you further.” Randall again glanced at Jo. “You’ll stay for a while? The sergeant should be here soon.” Jo nodded, and Randall moved to the door, prepared to close it behind him when angry footfall stomped up the stairs.

  Tessa heard her brother’s arrival and was confused by his tone. “Was the body position like the others?” Why would Warren assume her dead? And why from the killer of the other women? Had the killer changed his method?

  Randall pushed the door back open and preceded Warren. “Your sister is alive and well,” Randall said. Tessa was certain she caught a look of surprise, followed by a flush of anger before he schooled his features into one of concern.

  “You okay?” Warren asked. Tessa nodded. Her non-verbal reassurance appeared to settle the matter enough to allow him to move on. With a toss of his head in Jo’s direction, he demanded, “Why is she here at this time of the night?”

  Before she or Jo had a chance to respond, Randall stepped beside Warren. “I called Jo over, considering the circumstances, I thought it best for Miss Langford to have a familiar face and a female present, until you were found.” Rather than answer, Warren growled his displeasure. Randall must have sensed the growing tension because he directed his attention to Warren. “Sergeant, I’ll walk you through the events. Then take you to the man we caught attempting to break into your sister’s home.” He stretched an arm toward the door. “After you, Sergeant.” Reluctantly, Warren left. To Jo, Randall said, “I’ll let you know when you can secure the premises again.” Randall followed Warren, soundly closing the door behind them.

  When alone, Tessa stood. “I need tea. Will you join me?” Jo followed but, in the kitchen, steered her into a chair at the kitchen table. After Tessa sat, sure to pronounce her huff of indignation, Jo moved to the stove and set the kettle to boil. Both were silent until Jo placed a cup of hot tea before her and sat in the chair next to Tessa. Jo clasped Tessa’s hand, and Tessa squeezed back. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I will always come when you need me.” She gave a lopsided grin before adding, “It’s a Cavanaugh thing.” Jo’s thumb moved in small circles on the top of Tessa’s hand. Tessa wondered if Jo were even aware it. “Can I do anything for you? Get you anything?” Jo asked.

  “No, I’m fine.” She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about what happened tonight if that’s okay?”

  “Okay.” Jo didn’t stop the movement of her thumb as they sat in silence. Less than a quarter-hour later, a soft knock sounded at the door. Jo stood up. “That should be Randall. I’ll lock up downstairs and be right back.”

  At the bottom of the outer stairwell door, Jo thanked Randall for all he’d done. “I think that’s the guy who broke into our house, attacked, and shot Fiona.”

  “Yeah, one better,” Randall said. “He’s probably the killer. I recognized him from the picture your sister and Mr. Tirrell brought in.”

  “Then I’m especially glad you were still at the station. You can show up Warren for getting the killer plaguing Pueblo, while he was dragging his feet.”

  Randall grimaced. “He did more than drag his feet. Be careful, will you? And take care of Tessa. She may still be in danger.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. Randall glanced over his shoulder, bumping into her. The action seemed intentional. Randall shook his head and offered her a good night before he turned and walked away.

  Once he left, Jo relocked the door, twisted and tugged the handle to assure it was secured. Before she made her way upstairs, Jo pulled the item Randall had covertly placed in her coverall pocket. It was a key. Not just any key. This key was the one the man attempted to use to enter the premises, Jo wondered how surprised he was to learn it no longer worked. Jo should probably be surprised by the implication, but she wasn’t at all. She had no delusions of the perfidy of blood relations.

  Jo swore there’d be no secrets between them. But how could she share this evidence with Tessa? This was different, right? She would let Tessa maintain her illusions of Warren. Wasn’t that the loving thing to do? Jo didn’t owe Warren any favors, but hurting Tessa wasn’t her intent. No one other than her and Randall would know of this key being in the man’s possession. She strongly doubted Warren would question why it wasn’t included in evidence. Asking would only implicate him in his attempt to have his sister murdered. Jo would have to stay on her toes to assure Warren didn’t complete another attempt. If she hadn’t changed the locks the day before, Warren—or whoever—would have succeeded in killing Tessa. If she didn’t share this developm
ent with Tessa, how could Tessa prepare herself for more of Warren’s attempts? Jo swallowed back a wail of outrage.

  She needed to talk to her sister, maybe bring it up in the family meeting on Fiona’s return from Denver. Rubbing tiredly at her face, Jo made her way upstairs.

  Jo closed the door and threw the bolts. In her absence, Tessa had returned to the couch, her legs tucked close under a crocheted blanket she’d draped from her waist down.

  Quietly, Jo asked, “Can I get you more tea?”

  Tessa blinked rapidly for a few seconds before she turned her attention to Jo. “No, thank you.” Tessa pat the space near her feet. “Sit with me, please?”

  Jo nodded, dropped on the couch, slowly expelling a breath. “You lead an exciting life, Miss Langford.”

  Snorting, Tessa said, “Someone else can have this kind of excitement. I prefer dull and boring if tonight was the alternative.” Tessa sat up and snuggled into Jo, arranged the blanket so it covered both of their legs. “This is nice.” A pause. “Jo?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Jo shifted, so Tessa’s head rested just over her breast and dropped her arm to rest against Tessa's side and hip.

  “Will you tell me how you think you let me down?” Tessa’s hand brushed across Jo’s stomach. “Was it in Boston?”

  Jo didn’t know what to say. She wanted to be upfront and honest with Tessa, but this pain went deep. Tessa’s positive opinion of her could drastically change. Especially the more she learned of Boston. Tessa wouldn’t gossip about the information Jo shared, she recognized that about Tessa. What if she was wrong? Her silence must’ve gone for too long.

  Tessa said, “It’s okay. I understand if you can’t tell me.”

  The dejection in Tessa’s tone broke Jo’s heart. She trusted Tessa, cared for her deeply. Would this be the wedge to separate them? Jo couldn’t let that happen. She told Tessa about her parents selling her to a brothel for drugs. Would this be worse? After all, she hadn’t any control over the events that had transpired five years ago. If she had only been a little faster, results could have been different. Jo drew in a deep breath. “Promise me, Tessa, if at any point this is too disturbing, you’ll have me stop.” Jo felt the rub of Tessa’s head as she nodded.

  Squeezing her eyes closed and taking a bracing breath, Jo said, “It’s the reason Fiona and Margaret are in Denver. We believe the cause of Fiona’s headaches and blindness have to do with what happened in Boston before we left. My parents sold me for drugs, unaware or uncaring what was in store for me. But for Fiona,” Jo paused, her hand rubbed at Tessa’s hip. “Maybe I should preface this first. In Boston, Fiona was known as Finn, a sixteen-year-old boy who drove and ran errands for Margaret’s brother, Eldon. Fiona was so handsome as Finn, more so when Margaret dressed her in a suit and fedora.”

  Jo felt the vibrations of Tessa’s laughter. “Oh, I can imagine she was a sight to behold. Bet you would have given her a run for the title of most handsome.” Jo hoped Tessa meant it and wasn’t just tossing idle compliments.

  Continuing, Jo said, “Eldon was in his usual selfish-ass mode. Finn worked for him and had to do as he asked. They went to one of his speakeasies. It was a night we all shared a place in Fiona’s hell.”

  Sobering, Jo said, “Jimmy Bennett, Eldon’s next in command, had beaten and shot her, and he… he—”

  “It’s okay, Jo. You don’t have to give all the details.” Jo felt reassured with Tessa’s gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

  “Her Browning was near her. I picked it up and held it tight. I wanted it in case I needed to protect her. I couldn’t let anyone else hurt Fiona. Margaret got there, and she’d brought Fiona’s cop friend, Ian, and her friend Janice. We covered Fiona with a tablecloth. She took the gun from me.” Jo gave a watery bark of laughter, realized she’d started to cry with the memory. “Made it easier to pull Fiona into my arms. Margaret begged me to let go so Ian could pick her up, take her to the hospital. Margaret had to physically pry me away.”

  “Would expect nothing less, honey. She is your sister in your heart, if not blood.” Tessa began rubbing Jo’s arm. It was a gesture that provided the comfort she needed during the telling of that horrible night.

  “Fiona will always be more than a blood sister.” Jo inhaled deeply. “I had to apologize to Margaret for not being there on time. If I’d been quicker, tried harder— I tried, but I was too late. Fiona had already been hurt. Margaret told me I couldn’t have done more.” Jo gave a little shrug, careful not to lose Tessa’s supportive arm. “Eldon refused to go to the hospital, so Margaret had to deal with him. I know she was trying to make me feel better when she had me ride to the hospital with Fiona. I was too worried to argue.”

  Tessa said, “That may have been part of it, Jo. Maybe Margaret felt a sense of relief that you’d be there for Fiona, the woman you both love so much.”

  “I can accept that reason. Anyway, Eldon Graham died that night. Fiona was in a coma for nearly two weeks, and we weren’t sure if she would live or come out of the coma. We thought her survival was a miracle. At the time, it was one, a miracle, I mean.” Jo felt the renewed tears as they trickled down her cheeks. “Now it appears it was merely a temporary reprieve.” Jo roughly swiped at her tears. “One of the men arrested that night was Fiona’s father. He had egged Jimmy on in his attack, saying it was the only way to teach Fiona a lesson. Teach her what women should expect as their place in a man’s life.”

  Tessa sat up, cupped Jo’s face in her hands. “Maybe it was a reprieve. God’s will she put you all on the right paths. I see how protective you all are of one another. Sometimes, it does take a lifetime for our footprints to be placed on God’s path.” Tessa tapped a finger to Jo’s chest. “Fiona’s are protected here, making you the caring, loving, and compassionate person anyone would want to emulate. A person any other decent person would proudly call a friend.”

  Jo didn’t know how to respond or even if she should. Could she love this woman anymore? She swallowed hard against the stark reality of her admission, even if only to herself. She shifted, Tessa lay against her side, pulled the blanket higher to cover them both. Jo kissed the top of Tessa’s head. “Thank you. Now close your eyes, and let’s try to get a little sleep. The morning will be here before you know it.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The testing was exhausting. Fiona returned from the last one only moments ago. She and Margaret were left to wait for Dr. Wedleby’s diagnosis. Fiona wanted nothing more than for Margaret to drive her to the hotel they’d reserved for the night, and to rest cradled in the comfort of Margaret’s arms. She suspected the findings would not be positive but came to a conclusion during the most strenuous of the tests she’d undergone. Fiona couldn’t become like those patients seen in the waiting room. She couldn’t be a burden to her loved ones, especially Margaret, but she couldn’t take the chance surgery wouldn’t leave her as a shell of who she currently was either.

  “Are you okay? Damn, a stupid question. Of course, you aren’t,” Margaret said. She placed a warm hand on Fiona’s lower back bared in the examination gown. Margaret placed a soft kiss on her temple and said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “This is difficult for us both. I can’t hold you responsible for my jittery nerves.”

  Margaret laid her forehead on Fiona’s shoulder, and Fiona leaned back into her, needing the contact to stabilize her. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together and as a family.” Fiona caught the catch in Margaret’s voice, though she tried to cover the emotion with a cough. Growling her frustration, Margaret straightened. “Where the hell—”

  Fiona nearly chuckled when the door slowly opened to allow Dr. Wedleby to enter, his gaze focused on the clipboard in hand. The eyeglass lenses were so thick as to be telescopic, making his eyes appear about four times their size. Margaret, nearly caught in her outburst of exasperation, was almost as amusing. With her emotions jumbled, Fiona feared laughing at either of them now would result in her bursti
ng into uncontrollable tears. “What’s the verdict, Doctor?” she asked instead.

  He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger, glanced at Margaret, and then settled his attention on Fiona. “Having Dr. Matthews send your medical file ahead of this visit, not to mention our telephone conversation, spared a lot of time and testing, which you may be surprised to learn would be more extensive. Unfortunately, the conclusion isn’t an easy one to hear.”

  “Which is?” Margaret’s hand, still resting on her back, stilled.

  “The damage to Fiona over four years ago caused a small amount of blood to pool in her brain. The pressure, as it shifts, is straining the optical nerves.”

  “Why didn’t Edwin fix or have it fixed then?” Margaret’s sharp tone belied her fear. The scope of this issue would have been beyond Edwin’s capability, she knew.

  Wedleby shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been noticeable, especially with all the damage done, which he did correctly monitor and repair. By all accounts, Mrs. Cavanaugh, your sister-in-law is lucky to have lived at all.”

  Fiona felt Margaret bristle. Before she could launch into a verbal attack, Fiona asked, “What now?”

  “Well, we would cut out a small section of the skull so we could find and drain the obstruction. Once that is completed, we would stitch you up. It would take a while, but the hair will grow back, possibly enough to cover most of the scar. A scar, mind you, is a small price to pay.” He glanced at the chart again. “From your medical records, you aren’t a stranger to them.”

  Fiona wanted to shout at him, “Thanks for the reminder.” Instead, she asked, “How long, without the procedure, before the damage is permanent?”

  “Miss Cavanaugh, I don’t believe you grasp the immediacy or the complexity of the situation.”