Edwina yelped and wrapped her hands around her head, trying to be sure she wouldn’t be hit by Max’s sprawled landing, when she heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, watch where you’re putting that elbow, buddy, okay?” came a muffled statement from under the piled-high wool. “You could hurt someone.”
“Lawrence? Is that you?” she asked, and Mr. French’s head slowly emerged from the wool, his eyes wide against the darkness of the enclosed space.
“And don’t be sitting down on my trumpet, neither!” he ordered to Max, before answering Edwina’s question.
“Yes, it’s me, Eddie. You’d best keep it quiet now. Those police are going to be coming by here any minute.”
Max lay back on the wool, and Edwina threw some handfuls of the fluffy stuff over him. When he opened his mouth to protest she put a finger to her lips, even though he probably couldn’t see it in the darkness.
“Shhh!” she ordered, burrowing deeper into the soft wool, and trying to avoid Lawrence and Max as they all tried to hide.
It was not a second too soon. They could hear whistles coming closer, the crash of a heavy door being shut, and footsteps up and down the alley. Far away, the jumbled sounds of the fleeing grew fainter and the whine of a police siren cranked up as the paddy wagon pulled away from the sidewalk.
They cowered deep in the cut wool, trying to stifle even the sounds of their breathing. There was silence, then the unmistakable rhythm of an approaching pair of leather-soled shoes. It grew nearer, until the footsteps finally stopped, right outside the truck’s tailgate.
When the flap of the tarpaulin flipped back, Edwina had the sudden memory of being a little girl, playing hide-and-seek with Graham in the Winterwood’s enormous house. When she was very small, she’d somehow had the idea that if she squeezed her eyes as tightly shut as she could and couldn’t see, then somehow other people couldn’t see her as well. She shut her eyes and held her breath.
For just a second, she had a flash of clarity, of what her parents would say and think if they had to bail her out of jail. It wasn’t a good vision at all.
She burrowed a little deeper.
The policeman peered inside for several long seconds, then gave a huff of dismissal and dropped the flap. They could hear him walking away, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter with distance.
Finally, Edwina whispered, “He might not be the only one.”
Max slowly sat up and eased the flap to one side, peering down the alley. “Nah, they’re all gone. They’ve got their fish and it’s too much effort to track down any of the ones who got away. Wouldn’t hurt to give them a couple of more minutes, though, just in case.”
Edwina could see a bit of fluffy fleece clinging to Max’s tousled hair, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Your hair…” she began, but Max cut her off.
“Don’t start, you,” he ordered, moving the flap farther over and letting some light into the back of the truck. “You should see what your hair has all over it.”
Her hand flew up to her blonde wig, and he was right. She’d pinned it to her natural hair as much as she could, and it had paid off by not moving a bit, even with all the adventures she’d had that night. As she pulled herself out from under the wool, she ran her fingers through the short bob, trying to comb out any stray pieces.
Lawrence sat up with an exasperated sigh. “Well, I don’t think the band’s gonna get paid for tonight, is it?” He rummaged around in the fleece and pulled out a polished brass trumpet. Holding it in one hand, he pressed the keys experimentally. Seemingly satisfied that his trumpet still worked, then looked at Edwina. “That was way more excitement than I’m used to. I could use a drink.”
Max turned to Edwina. “You still got it?” he asked, and Edwina knew he was referring to the vodka bottle. When she nodded, he stuck out his hand. “Well, fork it over, sister. The man needs a drink.”
Edwina pulled the bottle out and passed it to Max, who expertly opened it and handed it to Lawrence.
He took a long swig and then blew out a long breath of satisfaction. “That hits the spot. Thanks, mister,” he said, handing it back to Max, who instantly took a drink.
Squinting his eyes shut in either pain or pleasure, he held the bottle out to Edwina, who shook her head in refusal.
“No, thanks. I think I’ve had enough fun for one night.”
Max took another swig, then set the bottle down and stared at Edwina. “Holy cow, lady! You can run!” He hiccupped once, then added, “and you’re not too bad with swinging that bottle, either.”
Edwina laughed, a bit shakily. “You liked that? It’s my first time hitting someone with illegal liquor.”
“Well, you did great,” Max said, with an appreciative nod. “I was worried I was going to have to hit the guy myself. I was shocked when you whacked him like that.”
“Yeah, me, too, to be honest. I had no idea I could use a bottle as a weapon.”
“You hit a guy?” Lawrence asked, and for the first time since she’d done it, Edwina felt a bit embarrassed.
“I hit a cop.”
“You WHAT?” Lawrence said, his eyes wide with shock. “That’s probably a first for someone in your family, isn’t it?”
Perhaps Lawrence didn’t mean anything by his comment, but the fact he’d mentioned her family steered the whole conversation way too close to revealing Edwina’s real identity.
“You might be surprised,” Edwina said, trying to appear casual. “Hey, Lawrence, your band was sounding hot tonight! Your new singer is amazing!”
Lawrence leaned back against the side of the truck and grinned. “My new singer, and my new girl. She’s gonna take my little quartet all sorts of places. You just wait and see.”
“I’ll bet,” Max said. He glanced at Edwina. “I don’t hear the police anymore.”
Lawrence crawled over the mounds of raw wool and peered out the back of the truck. “It looks like the coast is clear,” he said, turning around and retrieving his trumpet. “I’d say it’s time we blow this place.”
“You got that right,” Max agreed, and he watched Lawrence as he eased over the tailgate and hopped onto the frozen pavement. Lawrence took a couple of steps away and brushed off as much of the clinging bits of wool as he could, and then Max put a leg out of the truck and eased down, too. As soon as he was on the ground, he held a hand out for Edwina.
“Come on, short stuff,” he said. “Let’s hit the road.”
Edwina took the offered hand and climbed out of the back of the truck. After being so warm in the bits of soft fleece, the cold outside air hit her like a stone wall.
As they started to walk toward the main street Edwina craned her head a bit to the side to be sure her car was still parked a ways down on the main street.
“Come on, boys. I’ll give you a ride home,” she offered, but Max shook his head.
“Thanks, but I only live three blocks from here. I’m going to walk home.”
“You sure?” Edwina asked, her eyebrows raised. Chicago city blocks were big and the night wind was bitingly cold.
“Yeah, it’ll clear my head a bit,” Max said.
“Lawrence, how about you?” Edwina offered, and Max’s smile was wide and genuine.
“If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience, I’d sure appreciate that.”
“Well, gentleman, thanks for a lovely evening. Let’s never do this again, okay?”
“Well, that was more excitement than I’ve had for a while,” Max said with a shuddering laugh. “Lady, you are crazy.”
Edwina brushed the last bits fleece off the front of her coat. “Well, crazy runs in my family. To tell the truth,” she said with a rueful smile, “it actually kind of gallops through it.” She straightened up and gave Max a tired smile. “Let’s just say it’s best if my parents don’t hear about this, but my nutty Aunt Zinnia would be proud.”
“So, here’s to your nutty Aunt Zinnia, then,” Max pronounced, pulling the cap off the vodka bottle and holding it up in
a mock salute. He took a long swig, then handed it to Edwina.
“What the hell. To Aunt Zinnia,” she said, and followed suit. Handing back the bottle, she grinned at Max. “See you tomorrow at work?”
“Yep.” His face suddenly clouded with concern. “Hey, just don’t tell Olivia about what happened tonight, okay? She gets real…” Words seemed to fail him for a moment, until he finally said, “concerned.”
“I understand,” Edwina said, opening her car door. “My lips are sealed.”
Chapter 12
Maybe it was the liquor and excitement from last night, or maybe it was too little sleep, but whatever it was, it was giving Edwina a monstrous headache the next morning at work. She’d been on time, but just barely, and had been happy to eschew her normal dresses for a pair of comfortable trousers. With no filming on the schedule for the next hour, she’d headed to the cafeteria for coffee. Most of the rest of the crew weren’t back yet, and she wasn’t surprised to see Bunny was the only person in the break room. She was already sitting at one of the tables, a cooling cup of coffee beside her, puzzling over a pair of shoes she was holding. She glanced up at Edwina, then back at the shoes.
“If I don’t get this pair of slippers down to Serena right away, Miss Linwood is going to have my head. The problem is, Serena’s not in yet and I don’t know how to fix these.”
Edwina headed straight for the coffee urn. “To heck with the slippers, Bunny! How did you and Preston and Agnes get away from the cops last night?” Edwina asked, settling into a chair with a cup of coffee. “You’re lucky you didn’t wind up in the drunk tank with all the people in that paddy wagon!”
Bunny giggled and looked up. “We almost did but when we ran around the corner some old guy was going by with his horse and milk cart, and when he saw everyone running away, he let us all hop in. He took us about a mile down the road before he dropped us off, and then we walked back later that night for Preston’s car.” She gave a happy sigh. “Have you seen Preston’s car? It was just dreamy. So, tell me,” Bunny said, sounding almost embarrassed, “he’s single, isn’t it?”
Edwina’s thoughts immediately went to the longtime crush Preston had on Agnes. Preston was well-heeled, and his sporty car reflected that. “Well, um…” she began, trying to figure out how to frame her answer, “I think he’s interested in someone right now.”
“Are they engaged?” Bunny’s face was deadly serious.
“Not that I know of.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie.
“Humph,” Bunny responded noncommittally, then smiled. “Then he’s fair game.”
Edwina doubted Preston would think the same, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
Bunny turned back to the heeled velvet slippers in her hand, worry etched in every line of her face. “The heel on this left one is wobbling, and I can’t figure out how to fix it. The problem is, I have to get her some soda water, too, and I don’t have time.”
“Soda water? Is she sick?”
“Just an upset stomach. The bubbles seem to help and I’m bringing her some crackers, too.”
“I thought we were already taking a break,” Edwina said, picking her newspaper back up. “There’s not a lot I can check into about those blackmail letters when no one’s here, and you’re doing all Miss Linwood’s errands.”
Bunny gave a snort of derision. “Want to trade places?”
“With you?” Edwina rolled her eyes and fixed Bunny with a pointed gaze. “Not a chance. She seems like she’s a handful, and I am more than happy to just lounge around here and let you fetch and tote for her.”
Bunny sighed and set the slipped down on the table with a thud. “You have no idea how hard she is to work for.”
“I can guess.”
“No, really! You wouldn’t believe the things I could tell you about what she has me do. Do you know that when she’s feeling low and unappreciated she goes out in public with me, in great big sunglasses, and then has me make a fuss about how she’s a movie star and such? I have to holler that I can’t believe it’s her” —she raised her hands and fluttered them a bit in mock excitement — “and then a big crowd gets around her and she absolutely laps it up. We can stand for an hour, just signing autographs on photos she conveniently has in her purse. Can you believe it? How desperate for attention does someone have to be to pull a stunt like that?”
Actually, Edwina could believe it. Someone so insecure in her own fame would do whatever it took to get people to fawn all over her, and from what she’d seen, it looked like Miss Linwood was a prime candidate for that sort of behavior.
“Is she always like that?” she asked.
“Mostly. I can’t believe I gave up a job working with my father at the pharmacy to fetch and tote things for her. Been there for almost six years, and was able to help him fill prescriptions and everything.” She sighed. “I know some people think making movies and working with film stars is all glamour and bonbons, but I can certainly tell them a thing or two about the business.”
“Sounds like you could use a break,” Edwina observed, and Bunny gave a bark of laughter.
“The only break I’ve had from here was when she took several days to head to Mexico for some sort of spa treatment that’s supposed to calm nerves.” She took a sip of her coffee, her face happy as she thought back.
“Did it work?” Edwina asked, trying not to sound sarcastic and failing entirely.
“She seemed happier when she got back, for a bit, but now she’s not feeling well. I’m starting to think she picked up some sort of bug in Mexico.”
Edwina thought back and remembered she’d seen Linwood looking rather green around the gills a couple of times. The actress had been irritable and demanding, but there was no denying, now that she thought about it, that she sometimes didn’t look like she felt well, too.
Max sauntered in, took a look at the two women, and headed straight for the coffee urn.
“How’s the head?” Edwina asked innocently, and Max shot her an irritated glare.
“How’d ya think?” he said, grabbing a stoneware mug from the dishrack. “I tell you, lady, you should be labeled as hazardous. It’s dangerous to be around a girl like you.”
“Hey, she didn’t exactly twist your arm to get you there, did she?” Bunny interjected. “It’s not her fault the place was raided.”
“No, it’s not,” Max said, plopping down into the seat next to Edwina and setting his full mug carefully on the table. “It’s the fault of whoever didn’t pay the crime family that makes sure things like that don’t happen. If that place had had protection, nothing would’ve happened to them.”
Edwina didn’t respond, but she knew Max was probably right. Chicago ran on secret deals and shady people, all covered over with a thick veneer of industry and respectability. If anyone disagreed with that, all she’d have to do to prove it is show them the people who attended her parents’ parties. The mix of friends, business partners, and people who had to be invited because they were ‘someone’ was an eyeopener for the naïve.
Chapter 13
“So, who’s in charge here?”
Edwina had been sitting on a set of stairs, painted to look like stone, watching the movie crew trying to pull together the props for the next scene, and turned when she heard the question. A tall man with a gravelly voice was standing just outside the bright stage lights, his face still in shadow. As soon as he spoke the film crew paused, a few glancing at each other as if to see if they should be alarmed, when Albert Gridhorn finally stood up out of his seat and walked toward the darkness.
“I’m the director. What can I do for you, sir?”
As the man stepped into the light Edwina could see was wearing a full-length white cotton coat, and a white cap with no brim. His eyes looked tired but kind, and he was sporting a dark, bushy mustache.
“I’m Brian Sherwood, from next door. The plant manager wanted me to come over and see if you guys had any power. We’ve had some problems with ours.”
&nb
sp; Gridhorn looked confused and gestured to the hot lights around him. “No, nothing I know of. We’re fine. You’re having some trouble?”
“Well, the whole cutting line is down, and the freezer on the side of the building that butts up to yours is completely without electricity. Some of the departments still have power, and some don’t.” He slid off his cap and scratched his nearly bald head. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. Only part of our equipment is running. We can’t run a meat processing plant without electricity, you know.” He looked around. “So, everything’s working okay for you?”
Edwina was listening to the exchange between the director and the meat cutter, but a movement near the main door caught her eye. She squinted a bit, and could just make out a familiar shape, standing quietly right inside the door frame, looking her way.
It was Gustavson, slouched against the wall.
Maybe he’d been sent on an errand with the other man to let them know about the power outage, or maybe he was there for something else. Either one, it still set Edwina’s teeth on edge, after he’d seemed to threaten Gridhorn the last time he’d visited the set.
“Okay, okay,” she could hear Gridhorn saying, and turned to see him putting a hand on the taller man’s arms as he hurried him away from the set. “If anything happens over here we’ll let you know, all right? I’ve got to get this scene back on schedule, so if you don’t mind…” he said, letting his voice trail off as he escorted his tall visitor all the way to the main door. As he walked past Gustavson Edwina saw him give a start of recognition, but he didn’t say another word as he unceremoniously bundled them both outside, into the bitter Chicago weather.
As Gridhorn walked back toward the crew he saw he had the crew’s attention and, ever the showman, put his hands up in the air and smiled, as if to accept their imaginary applause. “Thank you, thank you, everyone. I don’t know what that guy was bellyaching about. In this Chicago weather, if their freezer goes out, all they have to do is open a window! That should keep their meat frozen just fine.”
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