by AR DeClerck
“Didn’t see any blood.” Tom held out a hand and pulled Franny back out to the road. As Sherman climbed up next, Tom shouldered the shotgun. “Let’s get back to the house and call Mo Collins to come pull out the car. I think you’re going to want to see what I found it that book.”
“Were we right?” Franny asked as Sherman offered her his arm. She took it and let him help her over the rut in the road that pulled at her modest heels. “Is it a bookie’s ledger?”
“Oh no, Miss.” Tom shook his head, his eyes narrow and serious. “It’s a hell of a lot worse than that.”
FRANNY AND SHERMAN followed Tom up to the house. Franny grimaced at the holes in the posts of the porch where the mysterious visitors had shot at Tom.
“Go on and have a seat,” Tom said pointing to the rockers on the other side of the porch. “I’ll call Mo and fetch us some lemonade.”
He disappeared into the house and Franny sank into the rocker with a relieved sigh. At least Tom wasn’t hurt, and he seemed capable of taking care of himself. She rocked the chair slowly and let it lull her heart back to a normal pace.
“You’re not hurt, are you?”
She opened her eyes to see Sherman staring at her with a concerned grimace. “No, not a bit. A little shaken by being run off the road and worrying over Tom.”
“I didn’t offend you?”
She laughed. “No. I spent quite a few years in Paris, so a leer or two down my brassiere is nothing.”
His face went red, as if he’d hoped she hadn’t noticed that he’d been staring at her breasts. “I do like you, Franny. I just want you to know that.”
She smiled. Despite how much he annoyed her, she liked him, too. Tom brought a tray of lemonade in a pitcher with three glasses of ice and set it down on the table between them.
“Should I come back?” he asked with a wink in her direction.
“Sit down and tell us what you’ve learned about the book,” she told him sharply, though her tone was belied by her grin. She set about pouring the lemonade as Tom removed the little book from his shirt pocket.
“Well, it’s not a bookie’s rag,” he told him as he flipped through the pages. “I looked it over with the expectation to see a column with names or initials and money owed and paid. Nothing of the sort in here.” He held out the book to Sherman. “See those letters and numbers on the left?”
“Yes.” Sherman studied the book and then handed it to Franny. She stared at the mishmash of numerals with a frown.
“What’s it mean?”
“It took me some thinking,” Tom said as he sipped his lemonade, “but at about half past midnight last night it came to me. Those are coordinates. Latitude and longitude, to be precise.”
“Really?” Franny didn’t know much about such things, but she supposed Tom would be an authority based on his days in military intelligence. “Coordinates for what?”
“That’s where the letters and numbers on the right come in.” Tom stood and bent over her shoulder, pointing to the ones he meant. “See them there? Those are call signs for US battleships.”
Sherman’s face was pale, and Franny knew that her mouth was open in shock. Italy had only recently announced Germany was joining “The Axis” and the threat of German aggression was strong in Europe, but she’d never expected to hear about it here in tiny little Prudence.
“You’re sure about that?” Sherman stood and paced, rubbing his jaw with his hand. “Are you telling me that four Russians wandered into town waiting on a mysterious package, and one of them has in their possession a list of coordinates of our ships? And now that particular Russian is dead?”
“Appears so,” Tom said with a sigh. He took his seat and gulped down more lemonade. “This kind of information is highly classified and would be worth a fortune to anyone in the military secrets business.”
“People like the ones who beat up my father and tried to kill you today.” Franny fanned herself with her hand, suddenly feeling the press of the sun.
“Then we need to get this book out of Prudence as fast as we can.” Sherman’s face was grave as he looked at the two of them. “Whoever wants that book wants it bad enough to kill for it. We can’t take the chance that they come back to finish the job.”
“I know a man or two in the service who might be able to keep it safe and make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.” Tom took the book and tucked it into his pocket again. “Might take a day or two for them to get here from D.C.”
“Then you’ll come to protective custody.” Sherman looked at Franny. “I think you and your sister should, as well.”
“You really think they’ll come after us looking for the book? What about my father?”
“I already have a guard on him 24/7. I think you, Geneva, and Tom are the most likely targets now.”
“And you.” Franny looked at him pointedly. “They will know that we’re the ones who have the book. We’re all in danger now.”
“We need to know what those Russians are up to.” Tom rocked in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “Could be they’re spies against the US. We know Stalin’s not making friends by tossing thousands into Siberian prison camps, and the US does have diplomatic ties to his regime at the moment.” He glanced up when he realized that Franny and Sherman were staring at him in surprise. “I’m old but I can read a newspaper.”
“So, you’re thinking they want to sell out the US, and by extension their own country, by selling the coordinates to every US battleship currently at sea?” Sherman’s frown grew deeper.
“I’m not rightly sure what their motives are, but we can’t rule it out.” Tom looked at Franny. “That body in the road was just the first piece to a very complicated puzzle. I didn’t think I’d be dealing with this kind of skullduggery out here.”
“We have two parties at work here, the Russians and whoever that was in the car with that bean shooter aimed at your head. Both are dangerous and they both want that book. Protective custody it is.” Sherman crossed his arms as if that was that.
“Oh no.” Franny stood, eyeing him. “My sister will never agree to that.”
“Why not?”
“The annual Fall Festival dance is tomorrow night. She won’t miss it for the world, and neither will I. Four of the ladies who are up for the Miss Corncrib crown will be wearing my dresses and I have to be there.”
“I hardly think a dance is a reason to risk your lives, Franny.” Sherman looked a Tom for his agreement, but the old man had the sense to keep his trap shut.
“It’s not just a dance, Sherman. This is an opportunity for all of Prudence to see my designs. If I’m not there, I can’t make my rounds. And you know Geneva would never miss the dance. It’s the highlight of her autumn.”
“You, Tom and Geneva will be staying at my house tomorrow night. Where it’s safe. Until this book is out of Prudence, I won’t let you out of my sight.”
Franny stared him down with fire in her heart. How dare he presume to tell her what to do? Just because he said he liked her didn’t give him authority over her. She put her hands on her hips and took three steps closer to him. She felt a little satisfaction when she saw him flinch. “I will be at that dance, Sherman Jump, and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.”
“OH, FRANNY!” GENNY’S eyes were big as she stared at her sister. “That’s some dress!”
Franny looked at the silver lame and sleek silk of her gown. The halter top flattered her breasts and the yoking at the waist emphasized the curve of her hip. “You think so?” She’d never worn anything quite so bold on this side of the Atlantic.
“Oh, definitely.” Geneva looked dashing in her own Franny Calico design, a peach colored gown in lace and silks, with layers of ruffles from the bodice to the floor. With her pale blonde hair in an updo, and her makeup to match, she would be the belle of the ball, as always. She bent to do up the buckles of her peach sandals. She smiled when the doorbell rang. “That’s got to be Bert.”
Frann
y smiled as her sister raced off to answer the door for her date. Sherman really had no idea what he was doing when he’d invited them to stay with him until the book was safely out of Prudence. She and Genny had taken over his small guest room with their boxes of clothes and makeups. She looked at Genny’s underthings hanging over the bedrail, and her own piled on the dresser. His house had probably never seen such feminine finery.
“Wow.”
She turned to find Sherman in the doorway, staring at her with wide eyes. “Wow yourself.” He looked fine in a simple black suit, white shirt and thin black tie.
“That’s some dress.” He echoed Genny’s sentiments without knowing it. He took a step inside the room, his eyes never leaving her. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Of course you haven’t. I designed it.” She swept past him to pick up her silver handbag and check her hair in the mirror. She’d styled it in the Parisian style, with her bangs curled to the side while the rest lay loose against her cheeks. She’d allowed it a slight wave, and the style suited her, she thought. She applied a final layer of dark red lipstick and caught Sherman’s eye in the mirror. “You look a bit sick.”
“I’ve never had the opportunity to see a woman’s toilette up close,” he admitted. “It’s all rather fascinating and a little scary.”
She laughed. “Imagine being the woman.” She turned and took the arm he offered. “Thank you for agreeing to escort me tonight.”
“There’s no other woman in Prudence I’d rather have on my arm.”
She chose not to reply, because she had no idea what to say. He was the only man who’d ever decided to choose her over her sister. Over her taller, thinner, prettier friends. She’d come to expect being the second best in the looks department, and it was her mind she wanted them to like anyway. But the way Sherman looked at her made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the room.
“Are you sure Tom will be all right here alone?” She poked her head into Sherman’s study as they passed and saw Tom snoring lightly in Sherman’s chair by the fire.
“I have a car passing by on the hour, and he’s got my service pistol on the table. We both know he knows how to use it.” Sherman picked up his hat and put it on with a grin. “I believe your sister and Bert are waiting in the car.”
“Bert’s a fine man. I do wish Genny would settle with him.” Franny accepted her light silver wrap and let Sherman drop it over her shoulders.
“As good a man as I’ve ever known,” Sherman agreed. “But we both know your sister has a hard time making up her mind.”
Franny laughed. “That we do.” She waited while Sherman locked the door and then he escorted her to his sleek black Ford sedan. He opened the door for her and she slid in, turning to grin at Genny and Bert in the back seat. “You two look cozy.”
Bert Townsend was the town barber, a handsome young man who’d inherited his shop from his father. He and Genny had enjoyed an on-again, off-again relationship for several years. Everyone in town knew that Bert worshiped Genny, but she could never commit to him. He smiled at Franny and put his arm around his date. “Any night with my girl is a good night.”
“Agreed.” Sherman climbed into the driver’s seat and shot Franny a grin. She felt the blush climb over her shoulders and up her cheeks as he winked at her and started the car. Genny giggled from the back seat and Franny tried to ignore her. Sherman drove the car down the long drive and out onto the street, headed in the direction of the town square. The light breeze blew in from the half-open window and tickled Franny’s neck. It was still warm, but soon the nights would start to cool down and the leaves would change color. She watched the darkened shops whiz past and soon they were in the long line of cars headed for the dance hall.
They parked, and Sherman came around to open Franny’s door. He offered his arm again and she took it as she shook out her skirts. The crowd was thick with dance goers and the air was festive and light.
Sherman leaned in close and whispered, “Keep your eyes open and your purse close.” He grinned when she looked at him in surprise. “Yes, I know your gun is in there, and no, I don’t mind. I think it’s best to be cautious.”
“I promise not to shoot anyone. Except maybe Sarah.”
He laughed, drawing eyes toward them and making Franny blush again. Why was she acting like a schoolgirl? She was a grown woman, a well-traveled woman who had enjoyed many lovers. But this man made her blush like an innocent all over again.
“Let’s get punch!” Genny suggested as she and Bert pushed past and began to wind through the crowd.
“Keep close to them,” Franny urged, pulling Sherman along. She tried to ignore the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers. “I don’t want to lose sight of her in this crowd.”
Sherman was big enough to be able to part the crowd easily, and they met up with Genny and Bert at the snacks table. Genny handed her a glass of the punch and sipped her own. The band was warming up and all the girls who were vying for Miss Corncrib were lining up for their processional down the center of the dance floor. Franny was happy to see that the girls she’d made dresses for were the best dressed of the lot. Katie looked exceptionally pretty in her linen and lace sheath.
“Franny, your designs are to die for!” Genny gushed, pointing out several other ladies in the crowd wearing a Franny Calico design. “Just amazing.”
“Thank you.” Franny raised her glass in acknowledgement of others who passed by and echoed Genny’s sentiments.
“You’re a popular woman,” Sherman said into her ear. “I’m jealous.”
She smiled at him. “You should be.” She had the oddest urge to kiss him, right there in front of all of Prudence, but she managed to hold back, and squeezed his hand instead. There was a hungry glint in his eyes that told her he would have kissed her back, town or no.
Suddenly his face lost all its softness and his eyes turned hard. He stared at something or someone over her shoulder, and his hand clenched hers.
“What is it?”
“Russians.”
She turned her head and saw the brothers standing against the wall at the back of the crowd. They didn’t look like they were there to have a good time.
“And strangers.” He nodded to the other side of the room and she followed his gaze to two men in pin-striped suits standing apart from the rest of the crowd. One smoked a thin cigar and the other held his hat in his hands. They were too calm, too polished, and suspiciously focused on the Russians across the room.
“Who do you think they are?”
“The men in the car at Tom’s house would be my guess.” He moved so that he was standing between her and both groups of suspicious characters. “I don’t like this. There are too many people and too much going on. Why would they show up here?”
“Maybe it’s a meet?” She peeked around his shoulder at the men again. “No one would notice a hand off in this crowd.”
“Your mind is a steel trap, Miss Calico.” He looked at Genny and Bert, who had wandered off to dance at the edge of the dance floor. “I think we better keep an eye on these gents, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Come on then.” He pulled her toward the dance floor.
“We’re dancing?”
“What better way to keep eyes on the room?” He pulled her close and his breath was hot on her cheek. “Besides, I couldn’t wait another moment to have you in my arms.”
“This is a serious investigation, Sheriff,” she reminded him with a sniff. But she had to admit that she enjoyed the feel of his arms around her a bit too much. “You’re being naughty, Sir.”
“I can’t help it when you’re wearing that dress.” He turned, and she saw that he was right. At any given time, they each had eyes on the groups of men.
“Don’t distract me,” she chided. It was a half-hearted protest. She enjoyed dancing with him far too much. “I might lose sight of them.”
“You’re the distraction. Every eye in this room is fixed on you.
”
“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re jealous.” She watched the cigar-smoking man whisper to the hat-carrying man, who nodded. She wondered what they were saying. It seemed they had decided not to approach the Russians across the room yet.
“I am.” Sherman brushed a soft kiss over her neck, and she felt goose pimples rise over her skin.
“You’re trying to woo me when we have a case to work on?” She pulled back to look into his eyes. “That’s not very disciplined of you.”
“You make me lose my mind.”
She laughed, then froze. “Oh no.”
“What is it?”
“The strangers are gone.”
Chapter Five: Lost Sister
“Did you see where they went?” Sherman took her hand and they hurried off the dance floor, searching the crowd for the men in pin-striped suits.
“No, but our Russian friends have disappeared, too!” Franny looked frantically across the dance floor, but they were no where to be found. “How could they disappear so quickly?”
“I have a sick feeling that your idea about a meet up is right. They’ve decided to take their business somewhere more private.”
“You don’t think they’re going to go after Tom, do you?”
Sherman’s eyes were narrow, but he shook his head. “They don’t know for sure which of us has the book. But I think we’d better collect Bert and your sister and get everyone to my house where it’s safe.” His eyebrow went up. “You’ve had your moment in the spotlight, I assume?”
“I would have preferred to see who wins Miss Corncrib, but I’ve made my appearances. Besides, with dangerous killers roaming the streets I think I’d rather make sure my sister is safe.”
Sherman opened his mouth to say something when a burst of screams echoed over the room. The crowd parted, and Bert stumbled toward them, bleeding heavily from a gash in his forehead. Sherman jumped toward the man and caught him as he fell.