“No, I don’t suppose it is,” he said. And with one last gurgle of suppressed laughter, he turned and began driving again.
I sat next to him, fuming, and wishing with all my heart that I could prove myself of use to my employer, who still clearly believed me to be a spoiled rich girl who was only taking a job on a lark. Short of performing some sort of heroic deed that none of my friends in Boston would dream of performing because they’d consider it beneath him, and of forcing Ernie to acknowledge my value afterwards, I couldn’t think of how to go about it.
Orange Grove Boulevard, the “Millionaire’s Row” Ernie had mentioned, didn’t remind me of home one little bit. It was ever so much greener and more fabulous than Boston. Rolling green lawns, huge trees, and gigantic mansions surrounded by enormous iron fences abounded. Boston was much more subdued than this, although most of the wealthy there had palatial homes outside the city. I don’t think I’d ever seen so many flowers, either. I remember sucking in my breath at one point and whispering, “Oh, my!”
“Pretty swell, isn’t it?”
“I should say so.” For a fleeting moment, it crossed my mind to try to persuade my parents to move to Pasadena. Fortunately, that insanity passed almost as soon as it entered my head, and I reminded myself that I was here primarily because my parents weren’t.
Even after we turned onto Colorado Boulevard and left Orange Grove behind, Pasadena looked like a pretty nice place. “Is this Pasadena’s downtown district?”
“Yeah. Pretty keen, huh?”
It was keen, all right. And ever so much cleaner and tidier than the downtown area of Los Angeles in which I worked. Mountains loomed to the north, looking protective and purple in the late-morning sunlight. The air was clean and fresh—and hot.
“I think we’re getting close,” Ernie said after a few minutes. “Look for a sign that says Vorland’s Books.”
“Very well.” I scanned both sides of the street, trying not to admire the architecture and shrubbery too much, since I didn’t want to get sidetracked. We spotted the building at the same time. “There it is!”
“Ah, there it is.”
I guess we’d found it. “What is this woman’s name, Ernie?”
“June Williams.” He’d stuck his arm out the window to signal for a left turn on a street called Hudson Avenue, and upon which I presumed he aimed to park.
“And she was engaged to marry Mr. Godfrey?”
“So he says.” He zoomed into a space vacated by a departing Packard Eight Sedan with a liveried chauffeur behind the wheel. I wondered if that automobile belonged to one of those grand mansions we’d driven past.
I stared at him. “You mean you don’t believe him?”
The rubber of his wheels screeched against the curb, making me wince, and he turned off the engine. Glancing at me, he said with one of his sassy smiles, “Hell, kid, I don’t believe anybody until I get all the facts.”
Ernie climbed out of the Studebaker, and I remained in the passenger seat. It only occurred to me when he’d opened my door that perhaps women in my line of work didn’t have doors opened for them all the time. Nuts. There was more to this being-of-the-people nonsense than I’d thought about before I attempted it. Ernie didn’t sneer at me or anything, so I guess he was accustomed to opening doors for ladies. Therefore, I continued the conversation as if no unpleasant thoughts had interrupted it in my mind. “You don’t think you have all the facts yet?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see. Let’s go find out what Miss Williams has to say.”
Sounded like a good idea to me, so I walked alongside Ernie to the bookstore.
Miss June Williams proved easy to find. She approached us, as a matter of fact, with a saleslady’s smile on her lips. Eyeglasses perched on the bridge of her nose, making her appear the studious type. Of course, at that moment, I didn’t know she was the woman for whom we were looking. All I saw was a pleasant-looking person, probably in her early twenties, wearing a plain blue jersey dress with a high round neckline, a tiny collar, and a dropped waist. She looked very prim and proper and businesslike. I believed my own green suit did not pale by comparison, but neither did it proclaim me as being anyone in a higher social caste than she. Which, naturally, made me happy.
“May I help you?” she said in a pleasant voice.
“Yeah, maybe,” said Ernie. I frowned, believing more decorous speech would get him further with this young woman than his everyday casual speech that he used with people like Lulu LaBelle. Not that Lulu didn’t deserve courtesy every bit as much as … Oh, never mind.
But her smile remained firmly in place. I guess she’d decided she needed to be polite to the clients, just as I had, whether she wanted to be or not. Interesting. I’d learned something else. Some people had to demean themselves every day of their lives in order to secure and maintain their employment and, therefore, their means of existence. Goodness, but life was different when one stepped down from one’s ivory tower.
I decided she deserved better from our interrogation than the casual gruffness Ernie seemed determined upon, so I took over from him. He frowned at me when I began talking. “Thank you for your help,” I said before he could continue on in his same vein. I gave the woman a gracious smile. “We’re looking for a lady named June Williams. Can you help us?”
As soon as I said the name, I knew we’d found her, because her eyes grew large behind her spectacles, and her smile disappeared from her face. “I’m June Williams,” she said. “But …”
I’d opened my mouth to say we wanted to talk to her, but Ernie nudged me in the ribs with his elbow and I said, “Ow,” instead. Blast him!
“Miss Williams,” said Ernie. “Is there somewhere we can be private for a few minutes? This won’t take very long.”
“Private?” She lifted a well-manicured hand to her collar, and appeared nervous. “But why do you need to talk to me?”
Ernie pulled out his private investigator’s license and flashed it at her. It’s too dramatic to say that she paled or flinched, but she certainly didn’t appear delighted to have been approached by a P.I. “I guess we can talk back here,” she said, turning and making toward the rear of the store. “We’re not busy now, but I can’t leave the floor.”
“That’s fine.” Ernie gestured for me to follow, so I did, thinking all the while.
Miss June Williams seemed, upon first meeting, to be a perfectly ordinary person, if rather more bookish than some. I couldn’t imagine her with Mr. Godfrey. And could this possibly be the woman whom Ned claimed Mr. Godfrey had stolen from him? Impossible! This woman was much too good for either of those second-rate fellows.
We stopped when we got to a far corner of the store, between American History and European History. What I wanted to do was look at the latest detective novels, but I restrained myself. When Miss Williams turned to face us, she appeared grim. “Now, please tell me what this is all about. I’m not accustomed to being questioned by detectives in my place of employment. I’m sure Mr. Vorland wouldn’t like it.”
“Of course not,” I said quickly, not trusting Ernie to be gentle with her. “We only need to ask you a few questions.”
She squinted at me as if noticing me for the first time. “Are you a detective, too?” Her tone was incredulous. If she’d been a man, I’d have resented it, but since she was a woman, I figured she was only amazed that I’d been allowed to participate in what everyone seemed to assume was a strictly masculine line of work.
“I’m an apprentice,” I told her, praying that Ernie wouldn’t say anything snide or cutting. He might have, too, for his mouth opened, and he looked as if he were on the verge of refuting my claim, but I stepped hard on his toe and pretended, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Templeton!”
With a wry grin at me, he muttered, “Think nothing of it, Miss Allcutt.” He turned his attention to Miss Williams. “Please, Miss Williams, allow me to introduce you to my … apprentice, Miss Mercy Allcutt.”
Silently blessing Erni
e, and with a friendly nod, I said, “How do you do, Miss Williams?”
“How do you do, Miss Allcutt?” she returned. “And I was doing quite well, thank you.”
Her meaning was clear, and I was sorry that we had upset her. I gave her an understanding smile. I’d already pulled out my lined green notepad and had my pencil poised.
“And I’m Ernest Templeton, Miss Williams.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Templeton.” She didn’t sound as if she’d spoken the truth, but it was still a gracious thing to have said.
“Now, then,” Ernie continued. “We’ll make this as quick as we can.”
“Thank you.” Miss Williams hadn’t been paying any mind to our antics. Her gaze kept sweeping the store, looking for customers, I guess. I knew she was nervous, and I suspected her state of agitation was only partially due to fearing a customer would walk off without paying for a book or two. I suppose I’d have been uneasy, too, if I’d been approached by a detective who intended to ask me questions.
“We’re here at the request of Mr. Hiram Godfrey, Miss Williams.”
That caught her interest with a jolt. Her gaze focused on Ernie, and her expression was one of utter amazement. “Hiram? What in the world does Hiram want to be hiring detectives to talk to me for?”
So Mr. Godfrey’s first name was Hiram, was it? I decided it suited him since, for some unaccountable reason, it brought to mind a person of squashy demeanor, probably because the only other person I’d ever met named Hiram was a boy who’d been in my grade-school class in Boston. That Hiram had been a chubby, pink-cheeked individual who cried all the time.
“He asked me to find you.”
She remained astounded. “Why’d he do that?”
“He maintains the belief that you and he were engaged to be married, and then you disappeared.”
Miss Williams’s cheeks flushed. I couldn’t tell if she was angry or embarrassed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
Ernie and I exchanged a sidelong glance, and I detected a glint in his eyes, as if he were saying, “See? It pays to get all the information before jumping to conclusions.” I nodded slightly in agreement. Even though no words had passed between the two of us, I felt we were in communication just then.
With a deep sigh, Miss Williams closed her eyes for only a second. When she opened them again, she had herself under control. “Mr. Godfrey is mistaken.”
“You mean you weren’t engaged?” I asked, excitement making my voice a trifle shrill.
“No. Poor Hiram. I wouldn’t be surprised if he honestly believed that we were. He’s like that, you see. He prefers to believe what he wants to believe rather than what actually is, if you understand what I mean.”
“Yes,” I said thoughtfully, recalling the bouquet of flowers Mr. Godfrey had given me that morning. I’d certainly not encouraged him to think I would welcome such a gift from him.
Shooting me a glance that told me to shut up and let him do the talking, Ernie said, “So you never agreed to marry Mr. Godfrey?”
“I certainly did not, although he asked me to often enough.” She shook her head, which was covered in reddish hair that had been bobbed and was sleekly finger-waved. She was quite an attractive woman, in spite of her eyeglasses. I wondered if Ernie thought so. “We never even took a meal together.”
“How did you meet him?” I asked.
“We worked together. I was a saleslady at the Broadway, and he worked in the accounting department.”
Hmm. An accountant, eh? Somehow I wasn’t surprised.
“You didn’t let him know where you were going when you moved, however.”
Miss Williams’s eyes widened behind her lenses. “Well, what of it? I owed Hiram nothing. We were friends, and that’s all. I didn’t tell anybody where I was going.” She hesitated. “And there’s a good reason for that.” All at once, her defenses seemed to crumble. She clutched Ernie’s arm. “Please, Mr. Templeton, don’t tell Hiram where I am. Don’t tell anyone where I am.”
His eyes narrowing, Ernie said, “You sound as if you’re worried about something, Miss Williams.”
“Not some thing,” she said ominously. “Some one.”
Ernie or no Ernie, I decided to step in and try to help this poor woman, who was clearly afraid of something. Or someone. “Please, Miss Williams, can we help you somehow? You appear to be frightened.” Ernie rolled his eyes, but I pushed onward. “Are you frightened?”
“I’m terrified,” she said starkly. “And, no, you can’t help. No one can help me now.”
She spoke with such dramatic finality, that I was moved to urge her to confide in me. “Please, Miss Williams, we might be able to help you, if you’ll only tell us what’s wrong. Whom are you afraid of?”
Again she shook her head. “There’s nothing you can do. I’ve already spoken to the police in Los Angeles, and they said they couldn’t help me. If the police can’t help, I doubt that you could.”
A thought struck me just then or I might have taken exception to this verbal slight. “Oh, Miss Williams, is it Mr. Godfrey of whom you’re afraid?”
She blinked a couple of times. “Hiram? Oh, no. Well … I … I don’t dare tell you. I don’t dare tell anyone. He said if I did, he’d kill me.”
Profoundly shocked, I blurted out, “Good heavens!”
Ernie gave me such a scowl, I decided I’d better be quiet. I suppose it had been slightly unprofessional to react to a subject’s statement so strongly, but I wasn’t accustomed to hearing people say they’d been threatened with death.
“Was it Mr. Godfrey who threatened you, Miss Williams?” Ernie asked, serious now.
“Oh, what difference does it make?” She was quite upset by this time. “How did you find me? I didn’t tell anyone where I was going! If you can find me, he can find me!” She’d begun to wring her hands. I hadn’t known people actually did that until I saw evidence before my very eyes.
“You don’t need to worry about Mr. Godfrey, Miss Williams. I didn’t tell him where we were going today.”
“Did you tell anyone else?” She gave Ernie a pleading look. I saw panic behind it, and my heart hurt for her.
“Not a soul. Say, has someone been bothering you?”
“Yes!” She spoke the word loudly, then glanced around the store to make sure nobody else had overheard. In an intense whisper, she went on. “You don’t understand, he used to follow me around. I’d see him everywhere. Every time I went out with a friend, he’d be there. Every time I went to work, he’d be there. I couldn’t do anything without him showing up. If I even spoke to another gentleman, he’d threaten me.”
Good heavens again. This time I didn’t say it out loud. “That’s terrible, Miss Williams. I’m so sorry.”
Ignoring me, Ernie said, “Listen, Miss Williams, I wish you’d tell me who it is you’re worried about.”
She shook her head almost violently this time. “It doesn’t make any difference! Don’t you see? Even if you knew who it was, you couldn’t do anything. The police said they couldn’t do anything unless he hurt me. By that time, it will be too late.”
This sounded bad. Or maybe she was exaggerating slightly. She might be a young woman with dramatic tendencies. I’ve known a few of those. I was about to try to weasel some more information out of her when Ernie spoke again. His tone was quite serious.
“If you’re really afraid of this person, whoever he is, maybe you’d better try to get farther away, Miss Williams. Do you have relations in another state?”
Her eyes were huge, and she stared at Ernie as if he were her last hope on earth. “Another state?”
“I’ve had experience with people like that, Miss Williams. If this person is the kind I’m thinking of, you might not be safe this close to Los Angeles. He lives in Los Angeles, right?”
“Yes.” Her whisper held a panicky edge, and she fingered the collar of her dress anxiously. “Do you really think so?”
Ernie was deadly serious now. “Yes. We might be ab
le to help you if you’d only take us into your confidence.”
She stood there, looking like an animal in a trap, for about ten seconds, her terror-stricken gaze passing from Ernie to me and back again, before she burst out with, “Oh, leave me alone!” And she rushed off. I saw her lift her hand to her eyes, as if she were wiping away tears.
“That went well,” Ernie said acerbically.
“Poor thing. I feel sorry for her. Do you suppose Mr. Godfrey really threatened to kill her?”
He gave me a sardonic look. “She said it wasn’t Godfrey, remember?”
“She didn’t, either, say that.” I flipped a page in my stenographer’s pad and checked my notes. “Well, she didn’t say it wasn’t him, anyhow.” Ernie started walking off, and I scurried to catch up with him. “I bet it was.”
“You just don’t like the guy,” said Ernie, who gave me a knowing grin. “I swear, women are so fickle. Here the guy gives you flowers, and you still don’t like him.”
“I didn’t ask him to give me flowers,” I said indignantly. “I thought it was an impertinence.”
He shook his head in mock sympathy for Mr. Godfrey. “Poor guy. Goes out of his way to do a good deed, and see what happens.”
“Nuts.”
We had luncheon—I wish I could stop calling it luncheon! We had lunch at a very pretty little restaurant called Mijare’s. It served Mexican food, which I’d never eaten before, but it was quite tasty. I especially liked something Ernie called guacamole, which was green and squishy, and into which we dunked fried chips of what he called tortillas.
“Ever had Mexican food before, kiddo?”
“No. It’s really good. Spicy.”
“Yeah, I don’t suppose you get a lot of spicy food in Boston, huh?”
My eyes narrowed. “Is that meant to be an insult?”
He lifted his hands in feigned horror. “An insult? How could it be an insult?”
I dipped another tortilla thing into the green squishy stuff, still squinting. “I don’t trust you.”
“I’m crushed.”
Lost Among the Angels (A Mercy Allcutt Book) Page 13