Death and Decopauge

by AR DeClerck

  “Oh, my Lord!” Franny knelt by the injured barber. “Bert, what happened?” She took a handkerchief out of her purse and pressed it to his wound.

  “They took her,” Bert moaned, his eyes quite unfocused. His words were slurred with pain. “They took her.”

  “Who took her?” Franny demanded, her heart beginning to pound hard in her chest. Surely, Bert didn’t mean Genny? “Bert!” She took hold of his cheeks and looked squarely into his eyes. “Where is Geneva?”

  “Rough men hit me, and they pushed her into their car and took off.” Bert’s eyes watered, and his eyes grew wide. “I’m sorry, Franny! I tried to stop them, I swear I did.”

  “Ease up, old man,” Sherman soothed the distraught man. He waved the ambo driver and his partner over and let them take over caring for Bert as the crowd looked on in fascination. Sherman took hold of Franny’s elbow and walked her toward the entrance to the dance hall. “Franny, I believe the men we’ve been looking for have taken your sister.”

  Franny’s mouth was dry, and she couldn’t get her mind to focus on anything as her fear for Geneva cut through her. Sherman’s hands were warm as he guided her back toward his car. “Don’t worry, we’ll get her back.”

  “It’s a ransom demand,” Franny managed as he closed the door after her and hurried around to the driver’s side. He got behind the wheel, his face grim. “They want to trade the book for my sister.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s good then.”

  He looked at her in surprise as he started the car. “Good?”

  “That means they won’t hurt her as long as they think they can use her to get what they want. It gives us time to figure out where they are and rescue my sister.”

  “Franny, this has gone beyond a simple investigation. We need to call Tom’s government friends and get them to town as quickly as possible. We need the FBI...”

  “If you call for reinforcements they will kill my sister.” Franny put her hand on Sherman’s knee, squeezing. “I know how men like this work.”

  “You do?” He glanced sideways at her as he turned down the long stretch of Main Street and headed for his house. “How’s that?”

  “Let’s just say I spent more than my fair share of time in Paris dealing with men of ill repute.”

  “That sounds like another one of our pasta stories.”

  She managed a small smile. “Someday I’ll tell you everything. But for now, we’re going to have to do whatever we can to find my sister.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to Geneva.”

  “Me either.” Franny stared out the window of the car as the deadlights of Prudence passed by. They pulled into Sherman’s drive and she waited for him to open the door before she climbed out. Tom was waiting for them on the porch, his face as grim as she felt.

  “We have a problem,” he said to them with a shake of his head. “But your faces tell me you already know what it is I’m about to say.”

  “When did they call?” Franny knew that Mabel Yorkstown was covering the phones, meaning that she’d been the one to put the call through from the kidnappers to Sherman’s house. Maybe Mabel could tell them where the call had originated from.

  “Five or six minutes ago.” Tom held up the book. “This for your sister, at midnight over on the old covered bridge over Hornsby Creek. They want you to come alone, Franny.”

  “The hell she will.” Sherman’s rare curse meant he was angrier than ever.

  “I’ll go.” She reached into her purse and took out her gun, checking it chambering a round just like Jean-Pierre had taught her.

  “Franny.” Sherman followed her up onto the porch and through the house, Tom following along silently. “That’s crazy talk.”

  She went into the small bedroom and shut the door, stripping off the silver lame dress and dropping it carelessly in a heap on the floor. “If we want my sister back safely, we have to make them think we’re doing exactly what they want,” she called out as she took a heavy pair of slacks and a dark blue blouse from her suitcase. She dressed quickly and pulled her hair into a loose que at the nape of her neck. Sherman opened the door as she slipped on her black boots. “You can’t stop me from doing this,” she told him without looking up.

  “This is dangerous, Franny. If you go out there, there’s nothing to stop them from killing you both and taking the book.”

  “That’s why we aren’t going to give them the real book.” She held up the small black journal she’d pilfered from Genny’s things. “My sister happens to own a notebook very similar to the one they want. I’ll have Tom copy nonsense into this one, and we’ll slip them a decoy.”

  “Franny.” Sherman knelt, his hands on her knees, stalling her efforts to lace her boot. She looked up and met his gaze. “This is too dangerous. If they see my men anywhere near that bridge they could kill your sister. We can’t get close enough to protect either of you.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” She pressed the empty notebook into his hands. “I have a plan.”

  “This is policework.” He shook his head stubbornly. “This is not a game.”

  “Don’t you dare try to lecture me, Sherman Jump.” Franny pushed hard on his shoulders, tired of his inability to trust her judgement. “It’s my sister’s life on the line so I know darned good and well this is not a game. I told you, I’ve spent more than my fair share of time dealing with men like these.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  She settled and took a deep breath. “Tom and I are going to go to Hornsby Creek bridge. I have no doubt they’re watching it and waiting for us to show up and they’ll send a runner back to the main group to let them know we’ve arrived. You and Greevy need to stay back off the main road and take the old logging road that goes over the ridge. Follow the messenger back to wherever they’re hiding and get my sister.”

  “That leaves you and Tom without any backup.” He seemed to be seriously considering her plan.

  “Tom and I will have one, maybe two, of the men to deal with because they’ll leave the bulk of the group to watch my sister. They won’t think an old man and seamstress will be much trouble.”

  “You’ve really thought this through.”

  She managed a smile at his begrudging compliment. “I told you...”

  He held up his hand, “That’s a conversation for pasta.”

  “Save Genny.” She leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his, her words a whisper against his mouth. Perhaps it was forward to kiss an unmarried man on the lips in a bedroom, but she never was one for convention.

  She pulled back when Old Tom cleared his throat. “So, Franny and I will take care of the men who come to the bridge and you’ll go after Genny?”

  “I still don’t like it,” Sherman grumbled, pulling Franny’s lips back for another swift kiss. “But it’s the only plan we have.”

  “You’re really going to listen to what I have to say instead of dismissing me offhand because I’m a seamstress and a woman?”

  Sherman sighed. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  She shrugged. “Save my sister and I’ll forgive you for anything.”

  Chapter Six: The Old Hornsby Bridge

  “My great grandfather fought in the Battle of Hornsby Ridge,” Tom said as they sat in the Packard a little over an hour later. The headlights illuminated the ramshackle remains of the old covered bridge. Franny was tense, fiddling with the fringe on her blouse as she stared at the dark maw of the bridge.

  “Johnny Reb or North?”

  Tom grinned. “Reb, of course. We never could figure out how that happened. My father always said he stumbled into a camp full of rebel soldiers one night and ended up conscripted.”

  “My grandfather ran a still somewhere in that direction.” Franny pointed toward the western hills. “I’m surprised the rest of us turned out to be so law-abiding.”

  Tom laughed. “If that’s what you call it.”

  Franny tried to glare at
him, but she ended up smiling. “Thank you for coming along, Tom.”

  He sobered and so did she.

  “I haven’t had this much excitement since my Mary was alive,” he told her with a nod. “I’m just doing what she would have wanted me to do.”

  “Solve murders and possibly get shot?”

  He shot her a stare. “Help out a young lady who needs it. The rest is just icing on the cake.”

  They both tensed when headlights cut through the gloom of the old bridge and a dark sedan rolled out the opening.

  “Those are the pills that shot up my porch!” Tom glared through the windshield at the sedan.

  “Probably the men in pin-striped suits that we saw at the dance.” Franny touched the bulge of her pistol that was tucked in her waistband. She wanted it in her purse, but it was too hard to get to in a hurry that way.

  Franny realized she was half right when one of the big Russians got out of the car along with the smoking man from the dance. They waited in the lights between the cars, arms crossed.

  “You reckon Sherman and Greevy followed their man back to the hideout already?” Tom asked as he pulled the decoy book out his shirt pocket.

  “I hope so.” Franny reached for the door handle and looked at Tom. “Good luck.”

  He nodded, and they got out of the car.

  “Hands where we can see ‘em!” the pin-striped suit yelled out. Though Franny couldn’t see a weapon, she knew both men were likely armed.

  “I have what you want!”

  “We told you to come alone!” The pin-striped man seemed peeved but didn’t attempt to shoot them just yet.

  “I wouldn’t let a young lady come out alone to do something this dangerous!” Tom shouted. He held his hands above his head and shook the one with the book. “I’m just here to make sure she’s all right.”

  The men didn’t seem to be too worried about Tom’s presence as he and Franny approached. The pin-striped man held out his hand. “Give me the book.”

  “Where is my sister?”

  His eyes darted toward Franny. “You’ll get her back when I get the book.”

  “How do I know she’s alive?” Franny wasn’t going to make this too easy.

  “Because I said it.” The pin-striped man’s eyes went narrow. “That’s how.”

  Franny let her gaze settle on the big Russian. “Who was she?”

  “Who was who?” the pin-striped man asked, looking between them.

  “The woman in the road, dressed like a man. Who was she?”

  “Nobody.” Pin-stripe held out his hand. “Give me the book.”

  “Was she your sister?”

  The big Russian frowned. “No.”

  “Your lover?”

  “Stop asking him questions!” Pin-stripe demanded.

  “She was my cousin, Iliana.”

  Franny could tell that Pin-stripe was getting angrier with every second that passed. “Why did you kill her?”

  “We did not.” The Russian’s eyes darted to Pin-stripe.

  “She didn’t want to hand over the merchandise, so we made an example.” Pin-stripe grinned at her. “Like we’re going to do with your sister if I don’t get that book.”

  “So, you let him kill your cousin and you’re still working for him?” Franny ignored the slick, fast talking man and focused on the Russian.

  “They don’t work for me,” Pin-stripe interjected. “They’re couriers and hired muscle.”

  “We are paid,” the Russian said simply.

  “Tom, give him the book.” Franny nodded to the old man and he tossed the book to Pin-stripe. He thumbed through it and seemed satisfied with what he saw.

  “What’s in it?” Franny couldn’t help but ask. “What’s so important about that book?”

  “You’re a nosy broad.” Pin-stripe tucked the book into his breast pocket. “You’re better off sewing dresses, lady.”

  “Now where’s my sister?”

  “My guys will drop her off on the road once we’re outta here with the book.” Pin-stripe jerked his head toward the Russian and they headed back toward the car.

  “They killed your cousin and they’re probably going to kill you and your brothers before this is over!” Franny called out. Both men paused and turned back toward her. She knew that she was pressing her luck, but she had to make sure Sherman had enough time to rescue her sister.

  “You’re a tomato, but you’re getting a little dingy.” Pin-stripe’s voice was low. “Leave off.”

  Tom stepped closer to Franny, but she ignored him and kept her eyes on the Russian. “You came here for a better life and they’re just using you! You’re going to end up in the road in some small town, too, you know.”

  The Russian’s jaw was hard, but Franny saw the way her words affected him. He did worry about his brothers after what had happened to their cousin.

  “Dame, that’s enough.” Pin-stripe pulled his gun and pointed it at her with a shake of his head. “It was easy enough to leave off with the chatter and just get outta here, but you can’t shut up.”

  Tom tried to move in front of her as the man fired, but the bullet flew past her head as Pin-stripe jerked and went to his knees, his eyes wide. Red bloomed over the white of his shirt as he dropped his gun and fell over.

  Franny stared at the young Russian with wide, surprised eyes. He held his own gun, the barrel still smoking. “You killed him.”

  “He killed Iliana.”

  “Drop your weapon!”

  Franny breathed a silent sigh of relief when she heard Sherman’s voice. Suddenly the whole area was surrounded by black and whites, their lights flashing. Greevy took the gun from the Russian and cuffed him, leading him off toward the car without much of a fight.

  “Franny!” Sherman dragged her into his arms and held her tightly, his lips pressed against the top of her head. She could feel the frantic pounding of his heart against her cheek. “I thought he shot you!”

  “No, she talked him into shooting the other fella,” Tom commented as he kicked at the still body of Pin-stripe. “Not what I expected.”

  “As soon as he said that the woman was his cousin, I knew that he didn’t agree with what had happened to her. I had hoped to be able to turn him against his boss.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be right,” Sherman muttered.

  “Where’s Genny?” Franny pulled back and searched the faces around her. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine,” Sherman assured her. “I had the ambo take her on down to county to get checked out, and I’ll drive you there myself as soon as we tie this up.”

  Franny gave him a quick rundown of what had happened, and he shook Tom’s hand. “Thanks for watching out for her.”

  “She’s a handful,” Tom said with a chuckle. “Reminds me a little of my Mary, God rest her soul.”

  “I’ll have Greevy take you home,” Sherman told the man. “But we’ll need a full statement tomorrow when we hand over the book to the proper authorities.”

  Tom waved and wandered off to find his ride, and Franny sighed and leaned against Sherman.

  “Had enough excitement?” he asked, his arms around her.

  “I’m just glad that these guys are off the streets where they can’t hurt anyone else.”

  “Me too.” He took her hand and led her back to his car. “I’ll have a deputy drive your car home for you.”

  She leaned her head against the seat as he climbed in and started the car. “Sherman?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was really looking forward to solving this case before you.”

  He laughed and pulled off the road and onto the highway back toward town. “Were you?”

  “I just wanted to prove to you that I’m not just a silly dressmaker who knows how to decoupage.”

  “That’s definitely not what I think of you.”

  “Really?” She smiled. Maybe she’d done the impossible and changed the mind of a stubborn Jump.

  “I think you
’re a beautiful dressmaker who knows how to decoupage, and you’re a pretty good partner to boot.”

  “Partner? Really?”

  He looked at her, his brown eyes softer than she’d ever seen them. “I’m not saying I want you nosing around in all my investigations, but I think it’s not out of the question for us to work together from time to time.”

  “You really mean it? You’ll let me help?”

  “Do I have a choice? If I say no you’re just going to help me anyway.”

  She laughed. “That’s what Sheriff Paulson used to say!”

  “I bet it was.”

  GENNY LOOKED AS LOVELY as ever, even in a drab white cotton gown. Bert was there when Franny and Sherman arrived, his head bandaged. He was on his knees at Genny’s bedside, holding her hand and begging her forgiveness for his weakness.

  Franny pulled the man to his feet. “Bert Townsend, get up!” She gave Genny a stern glare. “Don’t let him grovel like that, Genny. There’s not a thing he could have done to stop those men and you know it!”

  Bert’s eyes widened, and he looked at Franny adoringly. Genny let him take her hand and sit on the edge of the bed. “She’s right, Bert. I don’t blame you at all.” She turned her cheek for his kiss. “Now go on back to your room, I need to rest.”

  He left obligingly, and Franny hugged her sister hard. “Are you really okay?”

  “They didn’t even speak to me.” Genny seemed a little put out by being so ignored. Franny almost smiled. “It was terrifying until Sherman and his men burst in to save the day.”

  “Yes, he is quite the hero,” Franny mumbled.

  “Go home, Franny.” Genny hugged her again, and then shooed her away. “I’ll be going home tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here bright and early to pick you up!”

  “Bert’s going to drive me.” Genny’s smile was mischievous. “I think I’ve decided to give him a real chance.”

  “Really!” Franny shook her head at her sister. “It’s about time!”

  “He’s proven he cares about me, he tried to fight off those men!” Genny’s eyes were wide but her cheeks were blush.

  “He could have been killed, but it was a brave thing to do.” Franny kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at home tomorrow, then?”