by M. L. Huie
He walked past the free benches and stopped near Livy. He smiled, and the lines at his mouth creased.
“Is this seat taken?” he said. His voice like honey.
Livy shrugged, and Tom Vance sat next to her.
“You know, most women I know wouldn’t get in a car with another man and leave me in an alley,” he said.
Livy considered her riposte, but realized the banter exhausted her. She wanted quiet.
“I’m sorry, Tom. But I did what you would’ve done had the tables been turned.”
“I really oughta hate you, but that’s not how my mama raised me.” Vance reached into his jacket pocket. He handed Livy a silver-and-enamel cigarette case. “Going-away present.”
“Tom, I don’t—” Livy began. But something clicked and she recognized the art deco styling and the French proverb inscribed on the edge. L’HABIT NE FAIT PAS LE MOINE.
“Actually, the gift’s from Mr. Fleming.”
Livy shot him a look, unsure whether she should trust the American.
“Don’t worry, Livy. Proper colleagues, remember? Anyway, two days after your chat with Miss Billerant, she had a change of heart. That case had been stowed away with her other belongings. ’Course it had been searched before, so she had to show us the trick to getting inside.”
A smile spread across Livy’s features as she cracked open the case.
“A false bottom,” Vance said. “On the right there.”
Livy’s fingers traced the right inside edge of the case until she found a slight indention. So small it could have been a scratch. She pushed at it and the panel shifted to reveal another just like it underneath.
“Another magic trick,” Vance went on. “The entire list was written on very thin silk paper and hidden there. I don’t know what you said to her, but looks like Miss Billerant listened. You should’ve seen Henry Dunbar. He almost smiled.”
Livy should have laughed at the joke, but instead she felt the emotion catch in her throat. God, what a long road, she thought.
“Your boys had a go at the list first, and then they brought us in,” Vance said. “Once they get it through encryption, then the real work begins: converting these agents into assets.”
“And what about Nathalie?”
“Her only condition was she wanted to go home. To Paris. I think Fleming would have married her, but she was determined to go back. She must have left something, or maybe someone, very dear to her there.”
Livy looked at her watch. Fifteen more minutes. Time and distance could be very painful. She couldn’t explain to Vance why Nathalie had gone back. How could anyone understand the obsession of chasing a dead man unless they’d been through it themselves? For the first time she felt real sadness for the Frenchwoman.
Vance lit up a Camel and exhaled smoke as the platform became more crowded with passengers bustling around, pushing baggage carts, checking tickets.
“You know, your little escape back there in that alley in Paris just might get me sent back to work in the family tobacco fields. And let me tell you, you do not want to work tobacco in North Carolina in summer. Fortunately, Fleming wants me to be the American liaison for the Mephisto list, so there’s a chance Gray might take pity on me since it all worked out. Sort of. But let’s forget all that for now. Cards on the table here, all right? Here’s my proposition. Let me exchange your ticket for a sleeper car for two to—wherever it is you’re headed.”
“Blackpool. Up north. Home.”
“Okay. Blackpool huh? Doesn’t exactly sound like the Riviera, but I’m game. You can show me the sights. Have a few laughs, maybe.”
Livy studied his face. It was a good face. Open and kind at times like this. “I could use a laugh,” Livy said, and meant it.
Vance’s smile expanded. She could see what he would have looked like as a boy. “Let’s just go and put everything else behind us. The past is the past, right?”
The whistle on the engine blew twice. Ten minutes to board. Livy looked around, surprised by how many passengers had boarded while she listened to Tom’s pitch.
She wanted the past exorcised from her life. Maybe a week in Lancashire with Tom would be just the thing. But wouldn’t that be just another temporary salve for a pain that went deeper? Besides, every time she looked at him she’d be reminded of the Grand Guignol, the Pont Alexandre. All that death.
“I can’t, Tom,” she said finally. “I haven’t been back home since the war really. I guess I just need the comfort. For a little while. By myself.”
Vance nodded and took a deep breath. Then, with a bit of effort, his smile returned. “Well, Olivia Nash, you owe me one.”
The quip brought an involuntary smile. She wondered if she’d made the right decision. Knowing she might never see Tom again, Livy didn’t have the wherewithal to dive into whatever a romantic getaway with this man might bring. So she stood, slinging the bag over her shoulder, and said, “I really should be getting on board now.”
Vance hopped up, hand in his coat. “Almost forgot. Fleming also sent you this.” He handed her a note. She recognized the crisp vellum from the Gray’s Inn Road office and the distinctive signature in the black ink from Fleming’s Montblanc pen.
She unfolded it.
My dearest Spitfire, the Kemsley News Service needs you. You know the number.
His business card slipped out of the note. She remembered the first time she’d seen it in that pub during the parade. She clutched it in her hand.
The engine bell rang. Time to board. Tom Vance held out his hand.
“Let’s not make a scene,” he said. “This isn’t the pictures, after all.”
A broad smile broke out on Livy’s face. A smile big enough to make her, for a few seconds, forget the pain and tears of the last few weeks. But only a few seconds. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
“You’re a good ’un, Tom,” she said. “Do you have a light?”
Vance pulled a silver lighter from his coat and flicked it once. Livy held Fleming’s note to the flame and watched it burn down. She blew out the flame and dropped the ash in a waste bin.
Fleming’s card she carefully placed in Nathalie’s cigarette case.
Then she joined the other passengers boarding the train, leaving London and heading for all points north.
Author Biography
Spitfire by M.L. Huie. First in the Livy Nash mystery series. Please use traditional template. For design, let’s use the cover font for the title/half title pages; if that’s not possible, let’s just use the layout from Emilia Bernhard’s books. Trim Size: 5.5 x8.25.Please note that the desired page number noted in the transmittal form is different from the one indicated in the cast-off (though the castoff indicates a signature of 336, we want 320).
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Michael Huie
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-245-4
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-64385-246-1
Cover design by Mimi Bark
Book design by Jennifer Canzone
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
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First Edition: January 2020
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