by C. E. Murphy
"I would. If somebody else died, if I could have stopped it? I'd blame myself forever. Besides, you need help. Even if the demons are right here in Detroit, you're still just one man. A nest is like a whole army, right? A whole army of demons that are almost impossible to kill. Those aren't very good odds."
"You're going to level the playing field? You and me against the demons, that makes it fair?"
Rosie lifted her arm to flex her biceps. "I'm tough, mister. You said so yourself."
A better smile crept across Hank's face. "Yeah. You are. Look, Rosie. I've got a family dinner tonight that I can't get out of, so let me give you a lift home and we'll start fresh tomorrow. This infestation, wherever it is, isn't going anywhere. A good night's sleep won't hurt us."
"You can drop me off at Big Bob's. I want to go check on Jean, and I should bring food in case she hasn't got any. Speaking of which, is there enough food in there for Pearl until tomorrow? I didn't check the fridge."
"There's powdered milk and corn flakes, at least. She'll be all right. I'll bring her some cash, too, so she can get out if she needs to."
"See," Rosie said, standing to come down the stairs, "you're not so bad, library man. We might just make a good team."
✪ ✪ ✪
It took most of an hour to get dropped off at the diner, wait on burgers, fries and milkshakes, and then wait for the tram to take her over to Jean's house. She tapped quietly on the front door before letting herself in to find Jean sleeping on the couch under two blankets despite the heat. Rosie slipped into the kitchen to make coffee and put the milkshakes in the freezer, then went back to the living room while the coffee brewed. She curled up in one of Jean's armchairs to wait for it to finish, and woke up a while later to Jean nudging her arm and offering a steaming mug to her. Rosie took a deep breath of its scent, then curled her hands around the cup and cleared her throat. "Sorry. I meant to have this ready for you, not the other way around."
"It's okay. The smell woke me up and for a minute …" Jean's face crumpled. "For a minute I thought Ruby had come home and made me coffee."
"Aw, honey." Rosie put the mug aside and stood to draw Jean to the couch, where they sat down as Jean cried in Rosie's arms. Eventually her sobs became shivers, and Rosie wiped her cheeks. "C'mon, Jean. I brought dinner, too."
"I'm not hungry."
"I know, but you need to eat something. Gosh, I sound like my mom. There are milkshakes in the freezer."
Jean offered a wan smile. "If I'd known your mom kept milkshakes in the freezer I would've come over to visit more often."
Rosie smiled. "There you go. You'll be all right, Jean. You want me to bring the shakes out here to thaw while I heat up the food?"
"Yeah." Jean nodded. "Please."
"All right, honey." Rosie went back into the kitchen, where the coffeepot sat two cups shy of full. Beside it stood a half-empty bottle of whiskey that hadn't been there earlier. Rosie got the food in the oven to reheat, then tightened the whiskey's cap and put it up before she rescued the milkshakes from the freezer and brought them into the living room. Jean's whiskey-rich coffee was half gone by then, but Rosie reckoned she deserved whatever took the edge off. She squeezed one of the milkshakes, impressed with how firm it had gotten. "That's a good freezer in there."
"It's a Philco. Ruby—Ruby thought if we were going to buy one, we should get one that would last." Jean took a shuddering breath. "She was my whole life, Ro. What'm I gonna do without her?"
"I don't know, sweetheart." Rosie sat down with Jean again, folding the other girl's hand into her own. "I can't imagine losing Irene, and I haven't known her half as long as you and Ruby were best friends."
"Best—" Jean pulled her hand out of Rosie's to grab a handkerchief and wipe her nose. Behind it, she said, "Yeah. Best friends," with more anger than Rosie had ever heard from her before.
Rosie's eyebrows lowered in confusion. "Well, you were, weren't you? Oh, Jean, did you two have a fight before she—before?"
"No. No, we didn't fight, we … Yeah," Jean said again. "Sure. Best friends. Just forget it, Rosie. Can you check on the food?"
"Sure. Okay." Rosie got up again, but stopped at the kitchen door, looking back. "I don't know what I said wrong, but I'm sorry. I want to be here to help, not make it worse."
Jean's shoulders dropped and she shook her head without meeting Rosie's gaze. "It's not your fault, Ro. It's really … it's really not. I'll explain it sometime, maybe. Just … can you check on dinner?"
Rosie whispered, "Okay," and fled into the kitchen. The cheese wasn't even re-melted on the burgers, but there'd been so much loss and defeat in Jean's posture that she didn't want to return to the living room until she could at least offer the salve of food. Like she'd told Irene, she couldn't remember a time when Ruby and Jean weren't together, through thick and thin. Losing Ruby had to be like it might feel for Rich to not come home from Europe, only worse maybe, because Jean had been a lot more certain of wanting to stick with Ruby than Rosie felt about staying with Rich. At least Jean didn't have that guilt, not that anything would happen to Rich, with the European war over.
"Jeez, Ro," she whispered to herself. At least she hadn't gone off talking about Rich like that out loud at Jean, who didn't need Rosie's love life quandaries landing in her lap right after she'd lost her best friend. The burgers finally started smelling good, and she pulled them out of the oven to shovel onto plates, followed by fries that had crisped up nicely on reheating. She added extra catsup to both plates, balanced a salt shaker on one of them, found some flatware just in case, and brought the whole mess out to the coffee table. "You don't have to eat a lot," she promised Jean, "but you need to eat something. A cup of coffee and nothing else will just make you feel sick."
"If there's enough booze in the coffee after a while I won't even feel sick." Jean ate, though, first a fry or two, reluctantly, then more before picking up her burger and sinking her teeth in. Her eyes closed momentarily, and around a mouthful she admitted, "This is good. You went to Big Bob's?"
"Hank dropped me off there. I came here because I thought the girls at home wouldn't get off my back about what happened at the factory if I went there. I hoped you'd want company."
"Got a new beau there, Rosie?"
"He's a looker, isn't he?" Rosie smiled but shook her head. "I don't think so. He just knows more—a little more—about what's happening to me."
"So I didn't imagine all that stuff you said about demons last night," Jean half-asked. "I was thinking a lot of crazy things. I thought …"
Rosie pushed a fry around her plate, collecting salt. "Would it be easier for you if you'd imagined it all? Because we can pretend that, if it helps."
"No. I just want to know what I can do to make a difference so this never happens to anybody else."
"I don't know yet. I—" Rosie jumped as the telephone rang. "Gosh. Wow, it's been quiet. I'm surprised, now that it's ringing."
Jean, wiping her hands on her dungarees, got up to answer it. "I only put it back in the cradle when you went to get dinner. It rang all afternoon before you got here and I couldn't take it anymore. Ruby's Nan …" Her eyes filled with tears again and she dashed her hand over them before picking up the phone. "Hello?" She glanced at Rosie, saying, "Yeah, she's here," to the phone. "I'll tell her. Okay as I can be, I guess. Rosie brought food. Okay. Thanks. Tomorrow. Bye, Rene. That was Irene," she said to Rosie as she hung up the phone. "She says your supe's been calling all afternoon and wants you to come in as soon as you can. He just called again and she thought to call here."
Rosie looked around for a clock. "It must be past eight. He can't need me to work an extra shift. What does he want?"
"I don't know, but I'll drive you over to find out when we're done eating."
"Are you sure?"
"I think I need to get out, and the tram is busy and smelly. I'm sure. And I should get Ruby's things from the factory. I don't want anyone to throw them out."
"I can get them, if
you want. I have to go in anyways."
Jean shook her head. "I'd rather get them myself. There might be some private stuff in there."
"Sure." Rosie offered a tentative smile that Jean returned briefly before finishing her meal. Rosie, mumbling something about nothing being worse than coming home to a messy kitchen, then hating herself for the insensitivity of the remark, tidied the kitchen while Jean put on cleaner clothes, and had to help the other girl as she started trembling at the threshold.
"I haven't been out since I found out for sure."
"I know. I know, hon. You're doing great, Jean. We can sit on the steps a while if you want to catch your breath, but you're doing okay. It's only been a couple days. Not even that," she said, thinking back. "Is it only Saturday night? Gosh. Wow." She sank down beside Jean on the steps, leaning into her. "I think you're amazing, to even try getting out tonight."
Jean knotted her arms around her waist, bending until her forehead almost touched her knees. "I don't know if I really can. I thought I could. I thought …"
"Jean, it's okay. Ruby's things will still be there in the morning, and I bet the supe will be too. Whatever he wants can wait. Come on." Rosie rubbed Jean's back, then stood and pulled her up. "Come on. Things will look … just as awful in the morning, probably," she finished with enough honesty to make Jean laugh tearily.
"Thanks. That's better than somebody saying it all happens for a reason and things will look brighter tomorrow."
"I'll stick around," Rosie offered. "I can take the tram to the factory tomorrow."
"We'll see how I am in the morning." Jean hesitated at the door to her bedroom, too, finally shaking her head. "I can't. I can't sleep in there without Ruby."
"It's so sweet you girls shared a room. You must have expected to take on housemates after the war ended and us girls weren't making so much money, huh? It's okay," Rosie said gently. "You sleep in the other bedroom, Jean. I'll take the couch."
Jean turned a silent, flat look on Rosie for the second time, though she didn't seem so angry this time. "We didn't think we'd need housemates."
"You're good about saving up money, aren't you? You bought the house and everything. Still, better safe than sorry, right?"
Jean passed a hand over her eyes. "Right. Right, Rosie. Look, I'm going to bed. Take the phone off the hook so I don't have people calling all night."
"Sure, Jean." Rosie called the factory first, leaving a message for Superintendent Doherty that she'd be in first thing in the morning, then put the receiver on the table and set about cleaning up the living room before settling on the couch with an old Life magazine. A folded print slid out from where it had been used as a bookmark, and Rosie unfolded it to smile briefly at an Art Deco image of a bare-breasted mermaid beneath a layer of ice and looking up in delight at the girls skating above her. Rosie tucked the print back into place, wondering what the French words beneath the mermaid said, and thought she would try to remember to ask Jean the next day. A smile caught her off guard. If demons were real, maybe mermaids were too. She turned the lights off and curled up on the couch, drifting to sleep on that cheerful thought.
TEN
A knock awakened her the next morning, with two worried faces peering through the panes in the front door. Rosie let Jean's parents in and, surprised, accepted embraces from both of them. "Rosie," said Mrs Diaz. "We haven't seen you in a long time."
"Not since graduation. Jean's still sleeping. Can I get you coffee?" She led them to the kitchen, glad she'd cleaned it the night before and even gladder she'd put the bottle of whiskey away. "How are you?"
"How's our daughter?" Mr Diaz asked at the same time. He was shorter than Rosie remembered him, with dark hair and light eyes that reminded her of Jean. Mrs Diaz was rounder than she'd been, but from the way she barely sipped the coffee Rosie made and refused anything to eat, Rosie thought that roundness might fall away soon.
"She's heartbroken," Rosie answered. "She and Ruby were such good friends."
Mrs Diaz nodded over her coffee. "We were here all afternoon yesterday, until she sent us home. I called this morning, and when there wasn't any answer …"
"Oh." Rosie glanced toward the phone guiltily. "She asked me to take it off the hook last night. There's nothing wrong. Nothing worse than before, anyways."
"She said the police were here," Mr Diaz said.
Rosie nodded before realizing he hoped she might tell them more, and ended up shaking her head. "They found Ruby's clothes at the murderer's apartment."
"She said he's dead. She said—" Mrs Diaz's brown gaze met Rosie's, then skittered away as a blush darkened her cheeks.
Rosie put her coffee down to steeple her hands in front of her mouth. It would be like this a long time, she reminded herself. For years, maybe. She'd better learn not to hate it, or it would ruin her. "She said that he's dead and I killed him? It's true. He attacked me and I defended myself. I didn't mean to kill him but I'm not sorry I did."
Mrs Diaz's eyes flashed with the same angry passion her daughter's had. "Neither am I. Ruby was a good girl, the best friend our Jean-Marie could have, and I'm glad that bast—"
"Maria." Mr Diaz put his hand over his wife's, stopping her outburst.
"What? Why should I not be glad that justice has been done? How easy it might have been for it to be Jean instead of Ruby! How close have we come to mourning for our own daughter instead of someone else's? Ruby was like my daughter, Peter! Like ours. We loved her." Mrs Diaz pushed tears away, about to speak again, when Jean, from the doorway, said, "I know you did, Mama. We all did. Have you seen her parents yet? They wouldn't talk to me when I called. Her mother blames me."
"How could she?" Rosie whispered in astonishment, as Mr Diaz stood to embrace his daughter unhappily.
"They wouldn't let us stay. There was too much family to deal with, they said, but …" He shrugged, and Jean said to Rosie, "If it weren't for me, maybe she'd have gotten married to some nice boy already and stayed home with babies instead of working at that factory where she was in danger."
"That doesn't make any sense," Rosie protested. "Lots of the girls are married and are still working while their mothers take care of the babies."
"I don't think they care very much about sense right now. I don't either." Jean spoke so rigidly that Rosie couldn't help but remember that Jean had believed her about Goode being a demon, and then couldn't help thinking the whole world didn't make very much sense anymore. She nodded instead of arguing, then quietly backed out of the room to let the Diazes spend some time together without her presence making things more difficult.
A while later Jean came out of the kitchen, pale and hollow-eyed but with her jaw set. "Mama and Papa are going to stay a while. Mom's going to cook something for lunch while I bring you to the factory."
"Are you sure, Jean? I can take the tram."
"It doesn't run as often on Sundays. I can do it. Ruby.…She wouldn't want me holing up in the house hiding, even if it's only been a couple of days. She'd want me to go see her parents and her Nan, too, so I just have to do that, Rosie. I have to."
Rosie's eyes filled with unexpected tears. "You're so brave, Jean."
"I'm really not," Jean said softly. "Come on. Let's go before I lose my nerve." She held Rosie's hand hard as they left the house, but they made it past the steps, and a minute later they were on the road to the factory. Jean drove more carefully than usual, but the roads were clear on a Sunday morning, so it took hardly any time to get across town. Jean pulled into the parking lot and sat with her hands on the wheel, staring bleakly out the big windshield at the factory's windowed facade.
"Last time I saw her was Monday night, when I dropped her off to work. She looked so cute, Rosie. Her hair was in pin curls and she had that kerchief tied around it to keep them in place, and she was wearing that polka-dot shirt I liked so much, and a pencil skirt. She blew me a kiss from the door. That was the last time I saw her. It all looked different to me then. It looked happy and safe, not like�
��this."
Rosie saw what Jean meant. Girders lay in heavy stacks near the doors, with pipes and lengths of rust-colored rebar leaning against them. Boxes of screws and rivets and bolts were piled against the walls, hiding some of the windows, and a girl emerged from the maze the whole mess made, dropping her cigarette guiltily when she saw someone watching from the car. Even the factory building itself looked grim, bleached instead of brightened by the morning sunlight. It hadn't seemed like a dangerous place before, but Jean had it right: it wasn't friendly anymore. "You want to come in with me or stay out here?"
"I'll come in," Jean said resolutely. "I need to get Ruby's things from her locker. But I'll meet you back in the car, Rosie. I don't want to wait in there."
"I can't imagine I'll be long." They got out of the Oldsmobile together, Jean giving its hood a pat like a promise she'd be back soon. Rosie wavered at the factory's front door, reaching for Jean's hand for support.
"It's okay." Jean sounded a lot stronger and more certain than she had for the past couple of days. "You did a good thing, Rosie. You don't have any reason to feel wrong about going back in."
Rosie, biting her lip, hugged the other girl hard before they went in together, not letting go of one another's hands until Rosie had to turn toward the supervisor's office and Jean had to keep going to the changing room. Jean cast a last look over her shoulder at Rosie as Rosie knocked on the supe's door, and Rosie wiggled her fingers in nervous support. A woman's voice called for Rosie to come in, and she stepped inside to smile uncertainly at the secretary, Vera. "The supe asked me to come in. Is he here?"
"For a wonder," Vera said tartly. "I've never seen Doherty here so late or so early, but you really shook things up around here, Rosie Ransom. The cops have been all over the joint and Doherty looks like he's lost fifteen pounds and three nights of sleep."
"It's only Sunday morning. That's two nights."