His smile evaporated. “No.”
“Why not? We’re courting for all practical purposes.”
“I thought I made that clear.” He pulled off his cap and raked a hand through his hair. “Because it’s wrong. That’s why not. Besides, you have a chance to sing. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
That dream had lost all its power, becoming no more substantial than a paper lantern. “Not anymore. I want love, Peter. I want someone to love me the way Valentino loved Lady Diana in The Sheik.”
He looked incredulous. “That’s a moving-picture show. That’s not real love.”
“Yes, it is. Don’t you see? That’s why I want to be with you every day and through everything, no matter what happens.”
Peter took her by the shoulders, the old determination back in place. “That’s why I have to refuse.”
Minnie gulped. She’d given him the chance to declare love. She’d practically said the words herself, but he hadn’t taken the bait. Instead, he refused to even consider a tiny little thing like letting her ride with him to deliver the Maxwell. “I thought you cared.” She felt the angry tears burn in her eyes.
“I do.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I can’t explain. Not now. You’ll have to trust me.”
That was the last thing she could do. He hadn’t earned her trust.
* * *
Peter should have gone to the sheriff before Thursday. Minnie’s request to join him on the delivery cemented his decision to do so after closing the garage. He’d already gotten her too involved. Maybe the package Vince had him pick up at the speakeasy would give the police enough proof of wrongdoing that he wouldn’t have to deliver the car tomorrow.
He had to wait for the sheriff to return from a reported theft from Hermann Grattan’s dairy farm. Considering the sheriff’s decision to investigate Grattan’s operation, this could either be a smoke screen to divert the sheriff from what was really going on or proof that Grattan was clean.
Peter kinda hoped the sheriff would find some sign of bootlegging there, but the sheriff returned alone.
“Was anything stolen?” Peter asked.
Sheriff Ilsley sat down at his desk with a grunt, a frown creasing his brow. “Some copper piping.”
“Why would someone steal that?”
“For homemade stills, for one.”
Peter sucked in his breath. Maybe he’d be able to wriggle out of this deal. “Think he’s got one?”
“Not that I can find. Had my deputies scour the area.” Ilsley scrubbed his forehead. “Nothing. Grattan’s clean.”
Peter’s hope deflated. “Sorry about that.”
“Me, too. Now, what you got? You said yesterday you had something to show me.”
“Yes, sir.” Peter slipped the package wrapped in brown paper from his coat pocket. It sure wasn’t the liquor he’d expected to be waiting there. It felt more like a small book, all wrapped up and tied with string. On the front were scribbled Mr. Brown and a Chicago address.
The sheriff turned the small package over and over. “Brown? Does the name mean anything to you?”
“No, sir, but it is addressed to someone in Chicago.”
The sheriff set the package down and leaned back in his chair. Steepling his fingers, he tapped a forefinger against his lips, deep in thought. “You said Mr. Galbini asked you to pick it up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm. There aren’t any postal stamps or cancellations on it. Where did you go to pick it up?”
“Uh...” Peter considered how to say this. “The back door of the drugstore.”
The sheriff’s gaze narrowed. “I see. Since there isn’t any sign it went through postal delivery, we have to assume someone either brought or delivered it there. Who gave it to you?”
“No one.”
“What do you mean? Someone had to open the door and hand it to you.”
Peter didn’t see the point in naming Mrs. Lawrence. Everyone knew she operated the place. Moreover, she’d only let him in the door and waved toward the package. “Actually, it was sitting on this sort of counter, kinda like a little hotel counter, with my name on it.”
The sheriff examined the package again. “I don’t see your name anywhere.”
“It wasn’t written on the package, sir. It was on a piece of paper tucked under the string.”
“Do you have that piece of paper?”
Peter blanched. “No, sir. Didn’t think of it at the time. Just wanted to get out of there fast as I could.”
“You didn’t go past the counter?”
“No, sir.”
“No one went in or out while you were there?”
“No, sir. It only took a couple minutes. I didn’t see anyone except Mrs. Lawrence. She opened the door.” Peter would admit that much, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention that Blake Kensington’s car was parked outside. Kensington visited the speakeasy a lot, if his car was any indication. Peter saw it there three or four days a week. Blake was married to Minnie’s oldest sister. Peter sure didn’t want to bring any more hurt to that family.
“Did you hear anyone?”
Peter held his breath. He’d heard Reggie Landers laugh. At least he thought he had, but he wasn’t gonna name anyone without proof. “Not that I could put a face to.”
“All right.” The sheriff tapped a finger against the package. “The question is whether to open it or not.”
“Isn’t it breaking some sort of law to open a package addressed to someone else?”
The sheriff ignored his question. “The string will have to be cut. But we can retie it in the same manner. If we’re careful to use the same creases when repackaging, no one will know anyone ever opened it.”
Peter swallowed hard. This felt wrong. On the other hand, the sheriff ought to know the law. Maybe it was all right. Either way, he hoped Vince wouldn’t suspect they’d opened the package.
It took Sheriff Ilsley only seconds to cut the string and remove the brown paper. Inside, as Peter suspected, was a book. The greasy leather cover was worn at the edges. The sheriff flipped it open. His brow creased, and he turned another page. Then another.
Peter couldn’t stand the suspense. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure.” The sheriff slid the small notebook across the desk. “Looks like an account book, but for what?”
The pages were divided into columns filled with numbers and cryptic words like bootstrap and monkey.
“Makes no sense,” the sheriff muttered as he leafed through the rest of the notebook.
“Did you find anything else?”
“It’s all the same. Numbers and odd names. It could be a bookie’s tally book, but most of these don’t sound like horse names. Siloview? What’s that?” He flipped to the front and then the back. “Also, no one put his name in it. No telling who it belongs to. Is this Mr. Galbini’s writing?”
“Don’t know,” Peter admitted. “I’ve never seen him write anything.”
“Not even the directions to the drop-off spot tomorrow night?”
“He told me and had me write it out. I figured he wanted me to be able to read the handwriting.”
The sheriff leaned back with a sigh. “Well, this was a dead end.”
Peter’s hope faded away. “Then I’ll still have to deliver the car tomorrow?”
“There’s no way around that.” The sheriff must have sensed Peter’s discomfort, because he rounded the desk and perched on the corner in front of him. “Agent Fallston’s a good man. He’ll be there as promised. I also took the liberty of tipping off my compatriots down there. They won’t interfere, but they’ll be on the alert. Peter?”
“Yes, sir?” He gulped. The sheriff sounded even more serious than usual.
“This going to be dange
rous. I won’t lie to you. Apparently the route Galbini gave you heads into some pretty remote area. Do you own a gun?”
Peter’s pulse ground to a stop. “No, sir.”
The sheriff walked over to his gun case. “I want you to have a rifle with you, just in case. Do you know how to shoot?”
The sound of gunshots ringing from out back of the New York club pierced through the haze of memory. He’d run far and fast, but he couldn’t outrun the screams. “No, sir.”
“I’ll show you the basics, but without practice, you’re not likely to hit the target. Keep it hidden. Use it only if necessary.”
The sheriff proceeded to show him how to load and fire the weapon, but Peter couldn’t keep his attention on the instruction. His thoughts swirled elsewhere.
“Forget it.” Peter pushed the rifle away. “I’d never use it, and it’ll only get in the way.”
“Your life could be in danger.”
Peter took a shuddering breath. “I know, sir, and I’m willing to risk it, but I gotta know that Minnie will be safe. She asked to come along. I thought I had something lined up that would keep her busy, but she didn’t go for it. Can you make sure she’s safe?”
The sheriff sat down again. A smile tickled his lips. “I can’t lock her up, if that’s what you’re asking. Perhaps some social engagement? Our families don’t socialize. Do yours?”
Peter thought hard, but he couldn’t recall one instance of the Foxes dining with the Simmonses. “Not exactly.”
“You might want to enlist the aid of one of her sisters.”
Peter shook his head. “They don’t know anything, and I don’t want them to.”
“Is it fair to assume Miss Fox wants to join you because you two are courting?”
Peter felt his face heat. “Yes, sir, a little.”
The sheriff leaned forward, elbows on the desktop. “You could break the courtship.”
“What?” After waiting for Minnie for so long, Peter couldn’t imagine driving her away.
“Temporarily. Until you’re back and all is well. Hopefully, this will turn out exactly like Mr. Galbini told you. When you return, you can let Miss Fox know why you had to make the trip by yourself.”
Peter hated to break Minnie’s heart, but the sheriff did make some sense. If Minnie was angry with him, then she wouldn’t want to go on the delivery. She also wouldn’t suffer if the worst happened. None of his new family would if he did this right.
He stood a bit shakily. “Thank you, sir.”
“Sure you don’t want the rifle?”
The offer was tempting. If Peter was still the scared boy on the streets, he might’ve taken the gun and relied on something he couldn’t operate. But he’d given his life to God. Faith would see him through.
He squared his shoulders. “No thank you, sir.”
* * *
Trust me, Peter had said right after telling her she couldn’t deliver the car with him. Trust him? That was all he could tell her? Minnie fumed all night and into the next day. The truth was that Peter didn’t trust her. That was why he wouldn’t take her along. That was why he’d gone out of his way to make sure she was preoccupied with rehearsals. That was why he wouldn’t say that he loved her in return. Something was going on, and he wasn’t telling her one bit of it.
A man courting a woman needed to tell her everything. He needed to trust her. Clearly, Peter didn’t.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she said to Ruth as she sorted through scraps of cloth in the dress shop. Larger pieces went into the cubbyholes by color. Small scraps went into an old flour sack that Mrs. Grozney would pick up for the quilting guild at church. She probably wouldn’t stop by today, not with rain threatening.
“With whom?” Ruth adjusted the lamp over the worktable so she could see better to sketch a new ball-gown design.
“Peter.” Minnie looked over her sister’s shoulder. “That’s pretty. I like the sash.”
“It is nice, isn’t it?” Ruth held the piece of paper up to the light. “What’s wrong with Peter?”
“He’s acting odd. Did you know he asked Mrs. Kensington to let me back into the musical revue?”
Ruth gave Minnie one of those knowing smiles. “How sweet.”
“It’s not sweet. He did it to distract me.”
“If you ask me, he did it to attract you.”
Minnie plopped onto the stool across from her sister. “You don’t understand. He doesn’t want me hanging around the garage anymore.”
Ruth showed little sympathy. “I don’t know why you’d want to spend time there anyway. You’ve never been interested in mechanical things, like Jen is.” She began sketching again. “Besides, I could use your help. Now that you’re finished with upholstery, you can work on dresses. Mrs. Lyman’s gown needs hemming.”
“I’m not finished with upholstering. I can’t be. Do you realize how much money that brings in? Mr. Galbini paid four hundred dollars the first time and two hundred the next.”
“I heard.” Ruth barely looked up. “Mother said the amount was outrageous. She thinks it should have gone to Peter, but he’s so taken with you that he handed you the whole amount.”
“No, he didn’t. I asked, and he said he’d already been paid.”
“How much?”
“I didn’t ask. That’s not a polite question.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Ruth’s pencil scratched furiously over the paper. “A man in love does things like that.”
“He’s not in love.” The fact that he hadn’t taken her hint confirmed it. “If he was, he’d tell me everything.”
Ruth chuckled. “I used to think that, too. Remember how Sam concealed his real last name?”
“How could I forget? We had no idea he was opening a department store next door. You were furious.”
“I was mistaken.”
“What do you mean? He lied to you. I remember you saying that.”
“My mistake. I let emotion overcome good sense.” Ruth shook her head. “I knew better, too. That’s the sorriest part. I treated him abominably and almost ruined everything.”
“But it all worked out in the end.”
“Because Sam is a forgiving man.” Ruth looked over her glasses at Minnie. “My point is that I should have trusted him enough to accept his word. Circumstances forced him to conceal the truth, even though he wanted to tell me. He even hinted at it, but I refused to listen. Maybe Peter is facing the same dilemma.”
“This isn’t the same at all. Sam had to hide the truth from you because of his father. Peter’s an orphan, and he doesn’t have an inheritance to lose.”
“Parentage is not the point. I don’t know what Peter is facing, but he might risk losing something important to him.”
Minnie groaned. “Since you know so much, what would that be?”
Ruth shrugged. “I’m just saying you ought to give him a chance. Listen to what he does tell you and let him know you’ll stand up for him no matter what.”
“I don’t see why I should do that if he’s not being honest with me.”
“Then maybe you’re not ready for courtship.”
That stung. “Of course I am. I’ve been ready for ages.”
Ruth looked ready to rebuke her but was cut off by Jen rushing through the door.
“You won’t believe what happened,” Jen said between gulps for air. “It’s chaos.”
Minnie stood. “At the airfield?” That’s where Jen was working today.
Ruth dropped her pencil. Her color drained. “The planes. Did someone crash?”
Jen shook her head. “Everyone’s safe.” She leaned against the worktable and caught her breath. “It’s Peter.”
“Peter?” Minnie gasped. “What happened to Peter?”
“He
quit.”
Chapter Eighteen
“He what?” Minnie screeched. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know.” Jen recoiled at Minnie’s ferocity. “Don’t kill the messenger. All I know is he told Hendrick and Mariah this morning at breakfast. Hendrick’s furious. He told Peter to get out at once, but Mariah made him promise to let Peter pack up his things and settle business at the garage.”
Minnie’s head spun. “But why would Peter just up and quit? Where would he go? Why would he leave his family?”
Ruth seconded Minnie’s questions. “This makes no sense.”
“If you’d just let me explain,” Jen said, “you’d understand. Apparently Peter got a job offer from that friend of his, the one that’s been bringing him the cars to work on.”
“Mr. Galbini?”
“That’s the one,” Jen said. “According to Mariah, the job pays more, and Peter’s heading down to Chicago tonight with the Maxwell you two just finished. Once he gets there, he’s going to take the new job.”
Minnie tried to wrap her mind around this. No wonder Peter had been acting strangely all week. No wonder he didn’t want her to ride with him. No wonder he wouldn’t commit to her. But then why lead her to believe he was only waiting for her father’s permission to court? It made no sense. “You mean he’s not coming back?”
“That’s what taking a job in Chicago would mean,” Ruth said before turning to Jen. “What I don’t understand is how you learned all this. I thought you were at work.”
“Mariah stopped by the airfield to ask Mr. Hunter to keep an eye on the factory. With Peter quitting, Hendrick had to go back to working at the garage.”
Minnie sank onto the nearest stool. “Then it’s really happening.”
“Oh, Minnie.” Ruth gave her a hug. “I’m so sorry. And after I tried to convince you that Peter was sweet on you. I didn’t know, or I would never have said those things. Honestly, we all thought he liked you, didn’t we?”
Jen nodded.
“Me, too,” Minnie whispered.
“You poor dear.” Ruth said. “You have such a bad time with men. First Reggie. Now Peter.”
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