Bombshell

by Phyllis DeMarco

  “Why? You’re not going to fit in your clothes for much longer, you know.”

  “Just send them,” she said. “And my phonographs.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I brought everything else that mattered.”

  “You don’t sound too good. Homesick already?”

  “Some, I guess,” she told him. “The people here seem nice enough, though. Especially the sheriff. He pretended to be a real hard case, but I saw right through all the guff. Tell you the truth, it’s not so bad here.”

  “The sheriff? Didn’t I tell you to lay low? Keep your head down?”

  “My car broke down. He was only helping me out.”

  “Yeah, well, just don’t end up going native on me,” he said in a dark, warning tone. “Remember what we talked about. Stick with the program. I’ve got too much riding on you.”

  “Yeah,” she said, misery in her voice, and wished she hadn’t called him.

  “Gotta keep the big picture in mind. Remember that.”

  “Yeah.”

  The line went silent for a moment, save for a soft crackle. “You sure you’re all right?” Sully asked again.

  “I’m just tired. It was a long trip.”

  “Two thousand miles? It sure was. Get some rest.”

  Annalee unwound the telephone cord from her fingers and stared at the slight indentations it left in her fingers. “Sully, has anyone been asking after me?”

  “Oh, sure. Just got a call from the king of England wondering where the hell you are.”

  “Sully...”

  “Look, you know how it is, Toots. Unless you’re screwing Jack Warner or Louie Mayer, you’re replaceable.”

  “A little late with the career advice, Sully.”

  “But I’m laying the ground work, don’t worry. I’ll send a note to Variety—you’ve gone home to help some poor relations before they lose their farm or some such bullshit.”

  “Nice.”

  “You just keep your head down and leave everything to me.”

  ****

  While Annalee Harrison was settling in at the Steamboat Inn, John Calaway called every police station along Route 66 from Los Angeles to St. Louis to find out if there had been any bank robberies in their jurisdictions. Aside from a few committed by the usual folk-hero suspects, none of whom had platinum blonde gun molls in tow, he came up empty-handed.

  “She don’t seem the criminal type, Boss,” Calvin Stamp told him between telephone calls. “You saw her. Nothing shifty-eyed or suspicious about her.”

  “Yeah, them’s the ones who are always guilty of something,” Calaway cracked, and picked up the phone once more, certain he’d forgotten a town or two. “She didn’t seem desperate to you?”

  “Ain’t a desperate bone in that girl’s body,” Calvin said with a laugh. “But if you’re looking to figure her out, I ain’t gonna be much help. I gave up tryin’ to figure out women a long time ago.”

  “Well I ain’t you,” Calaway grumbled. His head was starting to ache.

  Stamp sat down on the corner of the sheriff’s desk and eased the phone out of his hand. “You also ain’t rich, Boss. A girl like that... If you had that kind of money, you’d shower it on her, too, for no other reason than you like lookin’ at her. Or maybe if you got tired of lookin’ at her. There’s no figuring those Hollywood types, you know. Hell, why’d she bother showin’ you that money if she didn’t come by it honest?”

  “Ass off the desk, Calvin.”

  Deputy Stamp leaped off the desk and gave a goofy grin. Calaway reached out to pick up his hat, but the telephone rang before he could reach it. Sure enough, the lousy bankers had just one more foreclosure for him to oversee before the day would come to an end.

  “One more, Calvin,” he said. “At least Abner Green’s a small fella.”

  “We have to turn ol’ Abner out?”

  “I don’t like it any more ’n you do.”

  He reached for his hat and started out the door, only to be swamped by a frazzled-looking woman and her seven skinny children, all under the age of ten. The infant in her arms started to wail.

  “Where’s Earl, Sheriff?” the woman demanded. “Where did you take him?”

  Calaway’s headache was going to split his skull wide open, he was sure of it. “Gettin’ set to see the judge, Molly. Go see your pa. He’ll be good enough to take you in.”

  “My pa ain’t no better than that dumb son of a bitch you got locked up,” she wailed. The child in her arms shrieked now, though tears failed to materialize. “He told me to put my babies in the orphanage and for me to go stand in the soup line!”

  He dug into his pockets and fished out the money Annalee had given him. He thrust the twenty-dollar bill into her free hand and tried to give her a comforting smile. “I can’t say when Earl’s gonna get out, but take this. It’ll keep you until we get things sorted.”

  Molly Brown glanced at the money in her hand, then cast a shocked, wide-eyed gaze at the sheriff. Before she could thank him, he was out the door.

  Chapter Two

  Summer Hill, Illinois was nestled in the crook of land between the Mississippi and Illinois Rivers, a town that prided itself on its contribution to the river trade, a town that might have escaped the ravages of the Depression had Pike County not depended so heavily on its surrounding farm country for sustenance or taxed its businesses out of existence.

  A new administration promised to bring the jobs back to the county, but folks who had a mind for business remained skittish. After all, most of the riverboats sailed right on past Summer Hill and crossed the river to Missouri, where folks were more inclined to provide goods and services at lower prices. Even the sailors who found their way into Summer Hill were already impaired from their revelries across the river; most of the business they brought to town was handled by Sheriff Calaway and his understaffed office.

  Annalee Harrison knew none of this as she made herself ready for the new day. Having spent the night tossing and turning in the dark silence of a small town that shuttered its doors at six p.m., she awoke from her fitful slumber with a start—and an idea that would have left Sully apoplectic.

  Big picture, she told herself. That’s what he’s always preaching, isn’t it? This is big picture thinking, Kiddo. A steady source of income, in case Sully’s not the miracle worker he thinks he is.

  Dressed in her finest business suit and with her satchel of cash in hand, she marched down Main Street to the Summer Hill Bank and Trust and insisted upon meeting with the manager.

  “I would like to make an investment in a piece of property on the riverfront,” she said in her most imperious voice.

  The bank manager was a little man with fluffy gray hair and rimless glasses that made his eyes look huge. Annalee didn’t catch his name, nor did she care to. “Of course, madam. I’d be happy to help you—”

  “A café,” she snipped. “I believe it was called the Blue Lantern. How long has it been closed?”

  “The better part of a year, madam. The bank took ownership of it last September—”

  “How much would the bank want for it?”

  The manager’s magnified eyes widened. “Madam?”

  Annalee crossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair. “How much?”

  “We’re currently listing it for nine thousand five hundred dollars. That’s with all the equipment and furnishings included.”

  “I’ll want to replace all that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I won’t go higher than eight.”

  “Why, that’s robbery!”

  Annalee gave a wicked grin. “A banker ought to know.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Seventy-five hundred,” she said. “Tell me, when was the last time anyone came in to even inquire about the place? Does a banker know the first thing about cooking?”

  The manager’s face flushed red with outrage. “Of all the impertinence!”

  “Impertinence, sure, but I’ve got cash
money to blow on the joint, and I don’t see anyone else knocking at your door,” she told him. “Seven thousand.”

  “The property is worth nine thousand, five hundred dollars,” he answered. “It includes equipment and furnishings, and ten acres of riverfront.”

  “Seven thousand, cash up front.”

  The man gnawed at his bottom lip for a long moment, then produced a stack of paperwork. “Seven thousand,” he grumbled. “Highway robbery.”

  Annalee dug into her satchel and produced seven stacks of crisp twenty-dollar bills. The manager’s already huge eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Any interest in opening an account with us?”

  “God, no.”

  ****

  John Calaway let out a few choice curses as he pecked out his latest police report. Typing was not his strong suit, nor was report writing. Come to think of it, none of his job appealed to him much at the present moment, given the four evictions he’d overseen before noon.

  “I should’ve stayed in the Army,” he grumbled to Calvin Stamp. “Might could’ve been a full-bird colonel by now.”

  “And miss all this fun?”

  Calaway yanked the report from the typewriter and tossed it on his desk. “I tell you, if Katie Belle Calaway knew her boy was throwin’ folks out on the street, she’d have a conniption fit,” he said. “Prob’ly even disown me.”

  Calvin perched himself on the corner of the sheriff’s desk and grinned. “You know what you need? A night out on the town—just you and some swell girl who’s got her eye on you.”

  Calaway peered up at him with suspicion. “You ain’t tryin’ to fix me up with your sister again, are you?”

  “Alice? Naw, she can’t stand you.”

  “Good.”

  “If you weren’t such a grouch half the time, I bet you’d have your pick of the ladies. Maybe even that gorgeous Miss Annalee what just come into town. She’s way out of your league, but I bet if you turned on a little charm—”

  “Ass off the desk, Calvin.” The telephone rang, just as his headache had begun to subside, and sent a fresh wave of misery through his brain. “Sheriff’s Office.”

  “Sheriff Calaway, I hate to impose on that good nature of yours...” Annalee Harrison’s voice sounded sweet over the phone. Calaway felt a rush of hot color rise in his cheeks, and waved Calvin Stamp out of his office.

  Calvin wasn’t going anywhere, not as long as his boss was on the phone and blushing.

  “No imposition, Miz Harrison. I’m off duty here.” Calaway threw a ticket book at his deputy, but it did no good.

  “I need you to take me out to the Blue Lantern. It’s just a little too far out for me to walk.”

  “That place has been shuttered for months.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hung up the phone and rested his head in his hands for a long moment. “The woman’s been here a day and a half and she’s already given me headache enough to kill a bull moose.”

  “I think she likes you,” Calvin said with a smirk.

  “I think she thinks I’m a chump,” he grumbled.

  ****

  Calaway hadn’t said much during the ride from town. Annalee suspected he was tired of hearing the sound of her voice and likely had stopped listening some time before they made it to the riverfront, but once the diner came into sight, she could not help herself.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Can’t believe you plunked good money down on that place,” he grumbled.

  “I know it must seem crazy, but consider it an investment,” she told him. “This town needs a decent restaurant, and quite frankly, I need to make sure I have a steady source of income. You just never know what the future will bring.”

  Calaway approached slowly and shook his head. “You’re right. This was crazy,” he told her. “Ain’t nobody can afford to eat in restaurants anymore.”

  “The riverboat men can,” she said with a smile. “And I’ll hire a big bruiser of a man to keep them in line, in case they decide to get frisky. Besides, I don’t expect to be serving champagne and caviar. Just simple home cooking at friendly prices.”

  “You know how to cook?”

  “Of course not. I’ll hire someone.”

  He stared at the structure for a long moment and took a deep breath. Though the café remained structurally sound, it had gone to seed in the months since its abandonment. Making it a decent place for folks to eat was going to require nothing short of a miracle. “You know how much it’s gonna cost just to get it up and running?”

  “Does it matter?” She took hold of his hand and smiled. “Just think of the potential here. Think of what this place could be.”

  “I remember what it used to be,” he said quietly, and for the first time, Annalee saw real warmth in his blue eyes. “Katie Belle Calaway used to bring me here Sundays after church. It wasn’t often she’d get that stern look in her eyes, but when I was misbehavin’ she’d look at me with her stern look and warn me not to fidget, or fall asleep, or pull the little girls’ pigtails while the minister was preaching, because Lord knows I needed to listen in church. And then she’d buy me a chocolate malt and tell me what Bible lessons we were going to learn that night.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “You think you can bring something like that back to a dying town?”

  “I’d like to.” Annalee felt her heels sink into the mud as they walked the café’s surrounding land. “This will all be green grass, come fall. And this mud path is going away. I’ll have a wooden pathway built. Spruce, maybe. Or teak. Summertime, I’ll have outdoor tables, with those big umbrellas, like you see in Paris.”

  “Them’s some big plans.”

  “Oh, but when the place really starts to take off, I’ll buy as much of the surrounding land as I can and build a marina. Bring in the pleasure boat traffic, as well.”

  “You’re gonna need a lot of help,” he remarked.

  “Know any good people I can hire?” she asked.

  “I might could know a few.”

  Annalee slid the key into the lock and opened the front door. A plume of dust burst forth from the musty interior. Except for the sunlight that poured in through the front door, all was dark. Sheriff Calaway switched on the overhead lights and frowned. Every surface of the diner was covered with dust.

  And spiders.

  John Calaway cringed.

  “It won’t be so bad, once the place gets a good cleaning,” she said with a proud smile. “And I get some new tables. And a new counter. And new equipment.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Calaway asked. “This place wasn’t much of a moneymaker back when ol’ Joe Hammond owned it.”

  “Ol’ Joe Hammond probably didn’t know the first thing about marketing,” she quipped. Still, the sheriff had a point. Times being what they were, there was no such thing as easy money. The Blue Lantern was going to be a lot of work—and likely turn no profit, at least for a while.

  Annalee subconsciously patted her belly. This was not the time for second guesses.

  There’s no guarantees in life. No guarantees in anything. Even if Sully makes a way for us to go back to Los Angeles, there’s no guarantee anyone will even remember who I am. This is the best shot we have at making a stake for ourselves, Kiddo.

  Kiddo gave her a quick kick, then went to sleep.

  “I can do this,” she whispered.

  Sheriff Calaway ran his finger along the greasy countertop and grimaced. “You sure you want to?”

  Annalee cast her gaze upward, where cobwebs dangled from the overhead fans and deep-set cracks further marred the dingy ceiling. “I have to.”

  He gave her a curious look. “I don’t get it. Unless you’ve been run out on a rail, there is no reason for you to want to take on something like this.”

  Run out on a rail... Now there’s a great way of putting it.

  Annalee smiled her most charming smile and took hol
d of the sheriff’s hand. “You’re awful intent on breaking me down, aren’t you?”

  Calaway glanced down at their hands and swallowed hard. “I just don’t think... There’s nothing about you that quite sets right.”

  The fresh color that rose to his cheeks charmed her. “I’ve never met a grown man who blushed as easily as you do.”

  He gave her an odd, questioning look. “I don’t suppose this means you figure on stickin’ around a while?”

  Her smile was coy. “Maybe.”

  Calaway raised his eyebrows and smiled. Though the look in his eyes remained dubious, the sudden glimmer she saw in them told her he’d caught at least a little of her enthusiasm for the project. “You know, you can help a lot of people who are looking for work.”

  He turned and glanced around the diner, and shivered again at the sight of a spider web spun up in the corner of the ceiling. Annalee kept silent but watched as the doubtful look in his eyes was slowly replaced by growing excitement.

  “Yeah. There’s plenty of fellas who have families to feed,” he said, almost to himself, then turned his gaze Annalee’s way. “You said you wanted a bruiser to keep the riverboat men in line? I can’t think of a bigger bruiser than ol’ Earl Brown. And there’s ladies who can help, too. You ain’t lived ’til you et a mess of Miz Maybelle’s turnip greens. Or Molly Brown’s apple pie. You could be doing a very good thing, Annalee.”

  For a moment, she wondered if he was right, if she would be doing a good thing. Wouldn’t that also mean, deep down, that she was a good person?

  Perish the thought.

  She slid another twenty-dollar bill into his pocket, then toyed with his fingers and smiled like the vamp she was. “I made a career off these innocent-looking blue eyes, Sheriff, but don’t think for one second I’m a sap. I’ll pay a decent wage, and I’ll do right by anyone who wants to come and work for me, but my future comes first.”

  “You never can tell, Annalee. Your future might mean the future of the whole damn town.”

  Annalee. The sound of her name dripping from his lips made her heart skip a beat.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  Calaway tilted his head slightly to the side, as if he weren’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “Beg pardon?”