When Truth Takes Flight

by Sandra McGregor

  “Oh, John, I’m so excited about the party. I’ve heard about that hotel, even ridden past it, and I’m dying to see inside.”

  Her enthusiasm and joy at the outing made him feel good, but going home early meant some long, lonely hours before going to bed. He’d miss listening to her soft voice and seeing her shy smiles over the rim of her coffee cup. She was exciting—but she was Vince’s daughter.

  That fact must never be forgotten.

  He beat a hasty retreat, glad to be off the hot seat and away from her curiosity about Vince.

  At least for the moment.

  Chapter Six

  Hannah sank onto the sofa and released a deep sigh into the silence shrouding the room. She’d gotten used to spending a couple of hours talking with John over dinner and coffee. It really didn’t matter what they talked about, but they usually started with sharing the events of their day.

  “I don’t understand why a call from his mother changed the mood and ended the evening so abruptly.” Her words whispered out as she wrapped both arms around a small crocheted pillow, hugging it against her stomach. “Or was it my questions about the guy, Vince, that changed the course of the evening?”

  She tossed the pillow aside, stood, and walked listlessly toward the kitchen. She didn’t normally listen to conversations on the phone outside her apartment, but he’d left the door partially open. There had been no way to miss his side of the conversation.

  She stooped to get the dust rag from under the sink. Keeping her hands busy with the menial task didn’t stop her mind from obsessing about John’s confusing yet intriguing words on the phone.

  His reaction to her question was what made her so curious. Who is Vince?

  Apparently not a relative, but then he’d hung up and made another call, asking the person on the other end if someone was watching his mother. Strange, but then he’d shared that his mother knew and was afraid. Her hand stilled halfway along the table. Had he been talking to the police?

  What if someone were following her? A chill ran down her arms. Low in her stomach, acid churned. Involuntarily, her hand came up to press against the pain. Did John’s early departure really have to do with work or was he just avoiding her questions?

  Hannah’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the hall phone rang again. She left the rag on the table and hurried out to grab it on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hannah, it’s Eddie. How are you?”

  Ugh. She grimaced even as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. “Oh, hi.”

  “Well, don’t sound so enthusiastic.” He chuckled. “You sound a little down-in-the-mouth, but I know how to cheer you up.”

  She knew he’d called to ask her out—and that she’d be turning him down. She hated this part of dating.

  When she remained silent, he finally continued, “There’s a new movie at The Gem Theater, and I’m taking you out for an evening. You need to be cheered up.”

  Her mother had always said the best way to handle a problem was to face it and be specific with your answer. Yes or no, without hemming or hawing. “It’s nice of you to think of me b—”

  “Great. Why don’t I pick you up tomorrow, and we can get something to eat first?”

  She sighed. Eddie had definitely become a problem. Be specific. “No, Eddie. Like I told you before, I’m seeing someone else now, so I can’t go out with you. Thanks anyway, though.”

  The silence lasted several seconds. Had no one ever turned him down before?

  “Are you sure? Who’s the guy? Someone from work?”

  “No one you know. He’s new to town. Listen, I have to go. I have some work to do.”

  “Sure, see you.”

  Hannah hung up the receiver, knowing in her heart Eddie would probably continue to call. Why had she thought telling him there was another guy would make a difference?

  She shook her head, remembering the day he announced to their co-workers that they were a couple.

  Hopefully, being told no will take care of things.

  Regardless, thank goodness she’d mentioned to John that she’d used his name; in case they ran into Eddie at the store or something, John wouldn’t be caught off-guard. Hopefully this would discourage the overt lighting technician.

  She glanced over her shoulder just before entering her apartment and closing the door. John’s poor mother. Is this what it felt like to be followed—looking over your shoulder and wondering if anyone was watching what you do? The shudder darted down her back, making her shiver and raising chill bumps on her arms.

  To get her mind off Eddie, she quickly finished dusting and then went to her closet and pulled out the midnight-blue cocktail dress. In front of the dresser mirror, she held it before her with one hand and swept her hair up with her other.

  “Earrings. I need earrings.”

  After carefully hanging the dress back in the closet, she slipped into her mother’s room and lifted the lid of the box sitting front and center on the dresser. Wrapped in a thin, embroidered hankie were her mother’s pride and joy. When an actress had worn the long, dangling diamond earrings onto the set, her mother had told her the jewelry made her look lovely. The young woman had taken them off and given them to her. Just like that. Two months later, the wardrobe mistress divulged the earrings weren’t stage jewelry, but real diamonds, a gift from one of the star’s former admirers.

  “Okay, that’s settled. I’ll wear mother’s slinky blue dress, the diamond earrings, and her silver heels. And I’ll do something special with my hair. Perfect,” she whispered, re-wrapping the jewelry and returning it to the box.

  With nothing else to occupy her thoughts, she spent the next half-hour pondering John. Was he keeping secrets from his mother?

  Could he also be keeping secrets from me?

  After all, when he called the police—or whomever he’d called—he hadn’t given any explanations or his mother’s address. No information at all. He’d only told the person she suspected she was being followed. Was John in on it? But why would he have his mother followed?

  Thoughts raced across her mind, retreated, and then settled in to marinate. No, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—hurt his own mother. She shook her head at the very thought of such a thing. He was too gentle, too considerate.

  Still, something wasn’t right. Should she ask him if his mother was in danger? Technically, it was none of her business, but… Her fingers tightened into fists.

  The phone ringing again jolted her from her thoughts. Once again, she slipped out into the hall and lifted the receiver after the second ring. “Hello?”

  After a momentary hesitation, the caller spoke. “Is this Hannah?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Hello, dear. I called earlier. I’m John’s mother. So, you’re the manager there?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and good evening, Mrs. Staples.”

  “Goodness, you sound rather young to be managing a boardinghouse.”

  “My mother used to be manager, but when she passed recently, I took over.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but it’s getting better with time,” she lied.

  “Well, dear, I’m glad to have a chance to thank you for cooking for my Johnny. He can’t boil water without burning it,” she said with an airy chuckle. “And please, call me Grace.”

  Hannah felt an instant connection. The first time she heard the woman’s voice, she’d known immediately the caller was John’s mother. The southern accent was strong and distinctive, and Mrs. Staples’ cheerful personality was so much like her own mother’s outlook on life.

  “Thank you. You’re very kind. And as to cooking for John, it’s no problem. I enjoy his company. Living alone can get lonely.”

  A soft sigh came over the wire. “Yes, I learned that when he went away to college.”

  Several silent seconds ticked by. “Um, if you’ll hold on just a moment, I’ll check and see if he’s home.”

&n
bsp; “Thank you.”

  With the receiver perched on top of the phone, she turned toward John’s apartment. After two knocks, she figured he was either not at home or choosing not to answer the door. She hoped the call wasn’t important enough for him to miss.

  The urge to tell his mother what she’d overheard earlier was sudden and strong. Should she get involved? He wouldn’t appreciate her intruding in whatever was going on, yet, what if Mrs. Staples was in danger? If Hannah kept what she heard to herself and then learned later that the woman had been injured or kidnapped, or…or worse, she’d never forgive herself.

  Eyes closed, heart pounding, and decision made, she gripped the receiver. “Mrs. Staples, he’s not answering, but I’ll leave a note under his door letting him know you called.” She hesitated.

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “Mrs. Staples…Grace…before you hang up, there’s one other thing I need to tell you.” Why was she always so impulsive? She’d started the conversation without planning out exactly what to say. She might regret the decision later, but for now, it seemed the right thing to do.

  “Certainly, dear. Is everything all right?”

  Would his mother tell her to mind her own business? With fingers crossed, she plunged forward. “I know this is none of my business, but I’m concerned about you.”

  There was a momentary hesitation on the other end of the wire.

  “Oh, there’s no need to be concerned about me.” Grace’s voice didn’t sound upset when she finally responded to the rather abrupt statement. “I assume you’re referring to my feeling that someone is following me? Don’t worry. After telling John, I realized how silly it all sounds. Why would anyone care about a woman in her forties?”

  Hannah swallowed, already feeling disloyal to John for what she was about to share. “Mrs. Staples, I probably shouldn’t say this, but after your son hung up talking to you, he called someone and asked if you were being followed.” The long silence made her uncomfortable, but she’d gone too far to stop now. “I don’t know what response he got, but John told the person you had noticed and were afraid.” Her own heart raced; she could only imagine what the older lady must be thinking and feeling, but she wanted her to be aware…just in case.

  The seconds ticked by while she waited for a response.

  “Um, did you discuss that conversation with John?”

  “I tried. He was vague and then left. We usually…well, he seemed withdrawn and distracted. Do you know why he would tell the person about your call tonight?”

  Over the constant hum of static, she could hear the other woman’s rapid breathing. Hannah placed a hand over her stomach and pressed.

  When she’d just about given up on getting a response, the woman answered.

  “Yes, I think so. It was probably… There was a man in my life once who Johnny might have called. His name is Vince, but as to why he would call him, I don’t really know. I thought he had severed relations with the man.”

  Now even more worried, she gripped the phone until her hand cramped. “Why would this Vince guy be following you?”

  “He wouldn’t do it himself—he’d have someone else do it, but as to why, I don’t know. That’s a question for John.”

  “Is Vince John’s father?”

  “No. He’s someone I knew later on. There’s a whole long story there, but something you might better hear from my son.”

  Obviously someone she didn’t want to talk about, but someone who was dangerous if he was having the other woman watched. John’s stepfather?

  She began to tremble. “Okay, but please be careful. I hate the thought of someone following you.” Hannah wrapped the cord around her finger, wishing there was something she could do to help. “I know I’m a long distance from you, but if there is ever anything I can do, please let me know.”

  “You sound like a very sweet young lady, but there’s nothing you can do. Just take care of yourself, and be careful who you trust in life. That’s all I can say.”

  She frowned. What was the woman saying? Or was she talking in generalities because of being young and living alone in Los Angeles?

  “Okay. Thanks. Bye.” She slowly hung up the phone, refocusing her gaze to the scuffed wooden floor while her thoughts whirled. Instead of easing her mind at warning the woman, she was more concerned now than before. Was Grace cautioning her about maybe also being followed? Or could she possibly have been cautioning her in regard to John?

  “Naw,” she whispered, shaking her head as she stepped inside her apartment and locked the door.

  John appeared so aboveboard and honest. He’d never be mixed up with anyone bad—certainly not anyone who’d sneak around like a spy in one of Paramount’s movies.

  Right?

  Chapter Seven

  The banging interrupted John’s concentration. Saturday morning was his time to sleep an extra hour and then catch up on his reading after a leisurely breakfast. His walk last night after he left Hannah’s had helped enough that he had only a slightly fitful night’s sleep.

  The pounding stopped, but although the knocking wasn’t at his door, he laid down the book and went to check out the disturbance. Across the hall, a man stood knocking at Hannah’s apartment.

  “Excuse me, mister. She’s not home.”

  The guy whirled around, glaring at first, but quickly hiding his irritation behind a forced smile. “Do you know where I can find her?”

  “No. Can I give her a message?” Was this the Eddie who was bothering her at work? His hand curled into a fist at his side. When the other man frowned and shook his head, John continued, “She left a little while ago, but I can tell her you came by.”

  Dark eyebrows dipped again. “Did she go out with her new boyfriend?”

  “I don’t know that either. May I ask who you are?” His patience was growing thin, but he needed to be certain if he were going to take a stand against whoever had stressed Hannah enough to make her lie about being in a relationship with someone else.

  “Just a friend. So, was she alone?”

  “I just heard her door shut when she left. I don’t keep tabs on her. Do you want me to tell her you were here?”

  “No, I’ll see her later.” He turned and stomped down the stairs without further comment, slamming the outside door when he left the boardinghouse.

  John clenched his jaws, his irritation fueling the urge to slam the apartment door. The irritating man had to be Eddie Stone, the persistent suitor, but he’d have to wait until Hannah returned to know for sure. He closed his eyes, released a deep sigh, and closed his door with an almost-silent click.

  He returned to his book but was no longer able to concentrate. The man had been angry but tried to cover up his emotions. A visiting professor had once lectured on the different types of personalities, including those who had obsessive tendencies and would force themselves or their ideas on someone else. Could this be the case with the well-dressed but angry man? Regardless, divulging information about her to a stranger—particularly an angry stranger—would never happen.

  John tried to read again, but the sound of a door being unlocked and opened across the hall drew his attention. Without taking time to mark his page, he tossed the book onto the sofa as he bolted up and opened the hall door before Hannah could step inside her apartment. “Hey.”

  She glanced over a shoulder, smiled, and cocked her head to the side. “Hey, yourself. Why not come over? I have this really good coffee someone brought me, and it won’t take long to make a couple cups.”

  He followed her in, taking the grocery bag from her arms and heading to the refrigerator. “I’ll put these away while you do the coffee.”

  “Sure, but you’ll be happy to know—”

  “Real milk!” He held the two bottles up like trophies, smiling at the thought of having such a treat for their coffee. “Lady, you hit the jackpot.”

  Hannah laughed out loud. “I was just going to tell you about that. I was able to get two, so you can have one fo
r your morning cereal.”

  “Now that’s something I’ll look forward to.”

  After he put one on the counter and the other in the refrigerator, he turned and leaned against the counter to watch her. She moved with such grace—a fluid motion that reminded him of a swan gliding across the water.

  “I noticed it didn’t take you very long to shop. Guess there weren’t many people in the grocers?”

  “Actually, the store was crowded, although no one bought a lot.”

  “Did you have enough money to cover the groceries?”

  “I spent three dollars, but there’s still a little left from the amount you gave me at the first of the week.”

  John pulled out his wallet and laid a few more dollars on the counter, then took coffee cups from the cupboard and added a dollop of milk to each one. “I put a little extra money here—you’ll need it for next week’s food.” She glanced over and nodded, but continued to fill the coffee pot with water so he ventured, “Also, you had a visitor earlier.”

  He watched her face, hoping to see her reaction. She only set the pot on the stove and turned to spoon coffee grounds into the basket.

  “Oh?” Her focus remained on making the coffee.

  “A guy, a little older than me, was pounding on your door. He didn’t give me his name.” He frowned when her hand stopped in mid-scoop, her body suddenly tense.

  “What did he look like?”

  “About six foot, black hair, and dressed nice.”

  Her shoulders and arms sagged as if her body had deflated. “He’s the one I told you about.” She resumed making coffee with hands that now trembled. “Eddie.”

  His back straightened, every muscle tense, ready to protect Hannah against the non-present enemy. The temptation to lash out was strong, but he understood the need to control any rash reaction that would probably have her running from him as fast as possible.

  He drew in a breath to the count of ten and released it just as slowly. Better. “Is he bothering you?”

  “No, not really,” she said, her voice soft. “Like I told you before, I made the mistake of going out with him a couple times, and now it’s like he thinks we’re engaged or something.” She turned around and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed and lips tightened.