Incommunicado

by Randall Platt

  Rex is pacing my room. Finally, he stops and, face contorted, asks, “And Mr. Kaye actually agreed to this lunatic idea of yours?”

  “Well, after a few drinks I think it was looking pretty darn smart to him, all things considered.”

  “He’s in hiding and we’re accomplices! They could arrest us all, Jewels! “ He turns and points at me. “What am I saying? You’re an accomplice! I’m not going to jail for something my idiot sister did! No sir! I—”

  “Well, at least I did something! What did you do? You curl up in a ball and let Eldon and Bully beat the crap out of you! I’d rather be an idiot than a coward!”

  Now we’re both standing face to face. I give him a hard shove. He seizes his side and yells as he doubles over. I couldn’t have hit him that hard. He turns and grabs me by my pajamas shirt and pulls me toward him. He makes a fist and puts it close to my face. For a second, I think he’s actually going to hit me.

  We glare at each other. I pull myself out of his grip and yank aside the curtain-door to my room—my suggestion for him to leave. Which he does. I hear what he calls me as he passes.

  I hate everything and everyone in my life right now!

  CHAPTER 26

  An hour later, I’m in Rex’s room. I pull on the light and say, “I take it all back.”

  He doesn’t move but says, “Me too.”

  “Here. I made cocoa.”

  He sits up with a groan and holds his side.

  I hand him his mug and say, “Don’t you see? I had to think of something. Everyone’s saying he’s the enemy. And you know he’s not.”

  “I know. But being the enemy isn’t half as bad as being a Benedict Arnold.”

  “Who?”

  “You know, a turncoat? A traitor? Cripes, even Benedict Arnold hightailed it to Canada!”

  “Look, I don’t know anything about any Benedict Arnold. Alls I know is Mr. Kaye’s probably the best friend any of us ever had. Me, you, that dog, and even Malice Alice. What’s going to happen to us if the FBI takes him away?”

  Rex looks down at his steaming mug. I’ve always known him and me are as different as Mutt and Jeff. Him and me nearly fist-fighting an hour earlier is about as close as we’ve ever been to seeing eye-to-eye. I never have a clue what runs through that mind of his. He’s smart and logical, and I’m nothing like that. He thinks ahead of himself and even behind himself—sort of like when he’s in the middle of a problem he turns a whole circle around and looks at it from every angle. I just go from here to there, no stopping in between.

  “Think I should put him back?” I ask.

  That makes Rex chuckle a little. “What? Like a toy on a shelf?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Then, the oddest thing happens. Rex says, “Are you sure only you and me know about this?”

  “Well, Hero, but he ain’t talking.”

  “You, me, and Mr. Kaye. Right, Jewels? You didn’t tell Edna or Mom? Father Donlevy?”

  “Crost my heart and hope to die,” I say, making an X over my heart.

  “None of your little Gable Girlfriends know?”

  “I said ‘hope to die!’”

  “Well, maybe we can pull this off for a few days. Until we know the FBI has left for good. Maybe I can find some lawyer for him or something.”

  “Maybe by then we’ll have won the war and things will be like they were before,” I say.

  “Do you ever pick up a newspaper? This war is going to go on for years.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Guess that’s a long time to live in a basement.”

  “It’s never going to work long term,” he mutters, shaking his head.

  “Do you really think we could get into trouble for doing this? Go to jail even?”

  He sighs and sort of smiles. “Yeah, the Benedict Arnold Lockup for Juvenile Traitors.”

  “’Cause you’re eighteen in September and if we could get into trouble—real trouble—then I’m quitting. Boys your age can go to real jail, Rex. I’m a girl. They won’t do much to me.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. Ever hear of the Girls’ Betterment Reformatory in Eugene?”

  “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  “Sometimes you need scaring, Jewels.”

  “Well, at least if you’re in jail, you can’t get your head blown off in the war.”

  His eyes blaze at me. “It’s just like you to think like that! Jeez, Jewels. I’m not going to jail, and I’m not going to get my head blown off! Unless it’s by one of those McAloonatics on their broken-down beach patrol horses or those SPORTS with their pop guns!”

  “Okay, okay. So, what do we do?”

  “All we can do is wait until tomorrow morning and see what Mr. Kaye wants. It’s his life so it’s his decision. Kill the light. I’m tired.”

  “What about Mom?”

  He sighs heavy. “We’ll just tell her Mr. Kaye left. The less she knows, the better.”

  He’s asleep by the time I close his door.

  CHAPTER 27

  “What’s that fleabag mutt doin’ here?” Mom asks the minute she walks into the front door. Odd, she doesn’t look hung over and it’s only eight-thirty in the morning. Maybe she really has been “bein’ good.”

  “Hi, Mom! You’re up bright and early,” I say.

  Rex starts to say something, but sort of chokes, then starts coughing.

  “Rex, you okay, darlin’?” Mom asks, stepping toward him.

  I’m this close to telling her that no, Rex is not okay! But Rex just points to Hero and says, “I’m allergic, that’s all.” His glare at me is a hint of our pledge to tell her only so much.

  “Then what’s that fleabag mutt doin’ here?” Mom says.

  “Well, Mom,” I begin. Hero’s snoring and draped acrost our saggy half couch. “He’s sort of . . . sort of . . .”

  “Mom, sit down. We need to tell you something about Mr. Kaye.”

  Her face is stony as she sits. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  I let Rex do the talking. The FBI, the threats, the choices, the future, and finally, his flight.

  She looks at me and Rex, sitting now acrost the table. “What do you mean, Tommy left? Left for where?”

  “Canada,” I say, edging a cup of coffee closer to her. The lie is getting a bit easier each time I say it, or maybe it’s just easier because this is Mom. “Yep, last night. He just shows up with a suitcase and hands me the leash and says goodbye, he’s off to Canada.”

  “Canada? What’s in Canada?”

  “I don’t think he was going to something so much as he was going away from something,” Rex says, adding some milk to his coffee.

  “For how long is he gone to Canada?”

  “For the duration,” Rex replies.

  “Duration? Duration of what?”

  “You do know there’s a war going on, don’t you?” Rex says, smiling, but with some snap to his voice—something he’s doing a lot of lately.

  “Of course, I do! And I’ll thank you to keep that tone out of your voice, son.” Mom’s face scrunches up as she rolls the tip of her cigarette in the ashtray, a clear sign she’s thinking.

  “Wait a minute,” she says. “His car’s in the parkin’ lot. How’d he get to Canada? Walk?”

  “Um, guess someone gave him a ride. Maybe he flew?” I say.

  Mom turns to me and asks, her voice odd, her eyes watching me carefully. “Flew? How? Sprouted wings?”

  “Or more likely he chartered a boat,” Rex says.

  “Oh, this whole thing’s a big mix-up. He wouldn’t just leave. Not say goodbye or anything. Especially to . . .” her eyes catch first mine, then Rex’s, and finally rest on Hero. “. . . to me.”

  She puts her coffee cup down, gets up, and looks out our cabin window. But she isn’t looking at any view. She has her hand over her eyes. Uh oh, I think. I sure didn’t see this coming. She’s going to cry.

  “I can’t believe he would just up and desert us,” she says.
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  Rex and I look at each other. I don’t think he’s seen this coming, either. “Well, if it’ll make you feel any better,” I say, trying to sound a bit brighter, “it was just a small suitcase.”

  “But he can’t just leave. What about these cabins? The Look-Sea? What about everything?” When she turns to look at me, I can see her eyes are filled with tears.

  “Oh, he said you’re supposed to run things for him,” I blurt out. Okay, that’s also a lie. Rex shoots me a look like I’m crazy.

  “Me? Run the whole shebang? Me? Ha. Tommy never let me even so much as flip a pancake without him lording over me.”

  “Well, he said you know how it all works. Said Rex could work the Feed and Seed after school, and you should see if Corliss can come back to the Kozy Korner to wait tables and help with the reservations. And I already know how to take care of the cabins and all. And Hero won’t be any trouble. I promise.”

  Just then, as though to prove his worth, Hero lifts his head, perks his ears, and grumbles a grumpf! He looks toward the door. Then, there’s a knock. Mom looks out and quickly leans against the door.

  “It’s that FBI man! What do I tell him?”

  “What’s he doing here? I told him Mr. Kaye left last night. What’s he want?” I say, glancing at Rex.

  Mom adjusts her dress. She opens the door and Agent Boothby takes up the whole jamb.

  “Why, hello, Officer Booth,” Mom says, very sweet and very Southern.

  “I’m an agent, not an officer,” he says, taking off his hat. “And it’s Boothby. May I come in?”

  She lets him pass. Hero just thunks his tail and goes back to sleep.

  “My, you’re up and at ’em early. Good to know Uncle Sam’s got a handle on everything,” Mom says.

  “Well, I’m just on my way out of town. I was hoping Mr. Kiramoto—well, Mr. Kaye I guess you know him as—I was hoping he’d change his mind and come with us back to the Portland office. But apparently he’s made other arrangements.”

  “Oh really?” Mom asks.

  “Yes, seems he’s fled to Canada,” he continues. “Isn’t that what you said, Jewels?”

  I raise my face, and I’m praying it’s not red. “Maybe he’s fled to family.” That’s the best I can do. He must know I’m lying.

  “I can tell you, I’m just as shocked and surprised by all this as you are,” Mom says.

  “Well, I’m neither shocked nor surprised, Mrs. Stokes,” Agent Boothby says casually while jotting down some notes. “I don’t get paid to have an opinion.” He looks up and smiles at her.

  “Then what do you get paid for?” Rex asks.

  “To trust my feelings—my gut.”

  “And what is your gut telling you?” Mom asks.

  “That a man you care very much for just hurt all of you.” He gives each of us a kind smile. “Now, I see Mr. Kaye’s car is still there,” Agent Boothby goes on. “Any explanation?”

  “No gas?” Mom suggests, with a feminine shrug of her shoulders. I remember what she’d told me about there being a time to play it dumb and a time to play it smart. Wisht I knew which one she’s playing now.

  “Perhaps he had operatives,” Rex says.

  We all looked at him. “Operatives?” Agent Boothby asks.

  “Well, isn’t that how spies work?” Rex says.

  “Rex!” Mom says. “Do you have the gall to suggest that our Tommy Kaye is—”

  “No, he is,” I say, pointing to Agent Boothby.

  Mom says, “Now you listen to me, all y’all! Tommy Kaye may be many things, but he is not a spy, and he certainly doesn’t have operatives!”

  Agent Boothby looks at her and says, “I admire your loyalty, Mrs. Stokes. I just hope it isn’t misplaced.”

  Mom tightens her dress with a tug on the belt, showing her hourglass figure. “If you’ll excuse us, we have Kaye Enterprises to run.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid we’re going to have to close down Kaye Enterprises.”

  “What on Earth for?” she asks.

  “They’re owned by, well, an enemy of the state at best—a spy for the Empire of Japan at worst.”

  She sits. “I see.”

  Rex is ready to say something, but Mom shoots him a shut-up glance. “Agent Boothby, this whole town is dependent on Mr. Kaye’s establishments. I’m sure your intentions are not to close down all of Sea Park. Over just one . . . Japanese whatever-he-turns-out-to-be.”

  “Well, no, of course not, but—”

  “With all the importance on the home front, I’m sure throwin’ people out of work is not what this war is all about. In fact, it seems to me if there is anything good about a war, it’s jobs. Now y’all don’t want anyone to go hungry on account of your silly red tape.”

  “Mrs. Stokes, this is war. If we err, it’s going to be on the side of caution. Times like this, there is a good reason to have that red tape.”

  “But it’s not fair!” I say, getting my two cents in.

  “No, Jewels,” Rex says. “He’s right. Rules are rules, especially in war.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want the FBI to err on anyone’s side, would we?” Mom says.

  “Well,” Agent Boothby says, fiddling with the rim of his hat, “needless to say, if you hear anything from Mr. Kaye, anything at all, it will be your obligation, your patriotic duty, to let me know. My card.”

  “Yes, I have one just like it on the table,” Mom snaps.

  “Look, I don’t want to be hard-nosed about this. I’ll take my time about filing my report. Maybe you can keep the restaurant and the feed store open. For now, at least. But from what I’ve seen, you might have a hard time getting people to stop throwing rocks and start throwing money at them. Well, we’ll be in touch.” He puts on his hat, shakes Rex’s hand, gives Hero an ear-scrunch, tips his hat to Mom and me, and leaves.

  Mom closes the door and falls into the nearest chair. “Well, I’m glad that’s over. G-men are the most annoyin’ people! Rules and red tape. Obviously, he’s never lived in a small town.”

  “He’s right,” I say. “What does it matter anyway? It’s like everything of Mr. Kaye’s is poison or something.”

  “Well, not so fast,” Mom says, looking like some wheels are turning inside that hennaed head of hers. “Now I’m mad as hornets that Tommy left, sneakin’ off in the night like he did. But once word gets out he’s not around, you wait and see. We’ll get customers back again.”

  “But he said for now. What about for later?”

  Mom just swishes her hand and says, “Oh pish posh. He’s got bigger fish to fry than to worry about a two bit, one horse town like Sea Park. If you think justice grinds slow, you should see how slow government grinds.”

  That makes Rex laugh, and he starts coughing again. “Good for you, Mom,” he spits out.

  “Jewels, take that dog out of here,” Mom says. “Rex is allergic.”

  Mom sips her coffee and says with a thoughtful expression, “Tommy wants to leave us high an’ dry. Fine! Him turntailin’ might be just the shot in the arm Sea Park’s been needin’ since Pearl Harbor.”

  She gets up and heads toward her room. “I’m takin’ me a nice long nap. Now, when I wake up, please tell me this has all been just one big nightmare, and oh yes, if that Tommy Kaye ever does show up, well, he’ll sure as snakes wish the FBI had taken him!”

  Once we’re alone in the room, I whisper, “Well, so far so good, huh, Rex?”

  He shoots me a dirty look. “Yeah, for everyone but Tommy Kaye.”

  From Mom’s room we hear her crying.

  “And maybe Mom,” I say.

  CHAPTER 28

  I rustle up some breakfast and a pot of coffee for Mr. Kaye. We hide everything in an old wooden toolbox with a latch cover, just in case someone sees us on our way to St. Bart’s. It’s too heavy for Rex so I carry it, and Rex acts as lookout with Hero leading the way. Church is still going on strong.

  “Think he’s still in there?” Rex asks.

  “He couldn’
t get out if he wanted to,” I say, showing him the key to the padlock on a string around my neck.

  “Isn’t there a way to get into the basement from inside the church?”

  “Nope.”

  “Doesn’t Father Donlevy have a key?”

  “Nope. It’s the lock from Cabin 16.” The lock slips open and I carefully push the door against the blackout curtain. We step onto the landing. Everything is dark below.

  “Mr. Kaye? It’s me. I brought you some breakfast and here’s Rex to—”

  I switch on the light and see Mr. Kaye on the makeshift bed I’d made with two chairs and a sofa. He turns toward us and puts his hand over his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Breakfast,” I say, pulling out a plate of bacon and eggs. “Get it while it’s hot.”

  He scrunches his eyes and slowly blinks them open. He looks at me, then at Rex, then at the room around him. “Where am I?”

  “Incommunicado,” I answer, pouring him some coffee. He sits up and takes the cup.

  “What’s that awful noise?” he asks, looking toward the rafters.

  “Organ music,” I say.

  Mr. Kaye glances up to the rafters and then says, “Lord, it’s true. I’m in the basement of a church. I was hoping I’d dreamt it.” He runs his hand over his face. Then he springs up and says, “What time is it? The FBI! I was . . .” Then his eyes narrow like he’s trying to remember something important.

  “You said the only way you’d go with them was for them to blast you out,” I say, reminding him of last night.

  He turns, mouth open, staring at me. “Yes, but, that was just an expression. No, I have to go with them, to face it all.” His eyes go to Rex. “And you, Rex? You’re in on this . . . this madness?”

  “Well, they can’t take you if they can’t find you,” Rex says. “There’s a certain amount of logic to that. I don’t see how this is going to work past a few days. Jewels, we better tell him everything.”

  “Well, I was scared and sort of cornered and, well, it was that FBI man,” I say, my voice a bit shaky. “I mean, I didn’t think saying you’d gone to Canada was such a big deal. I just had to think of someplace far away for you to go. You know, sort of throw them off your trail, and there was that Canada Dry sign and—”