The Pink Bonnet

by Tolsma, Liz;

  You’ll be next.

  Cecile covered her mouth to stifle her scream.

  Percy rubbed her shoulder.

  “This was left for me?”

  “No way to be sure.”

  But she had no doubts. The message was her warning. “I won’t let it stop me.”

  “I know you won’t, but are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  He righted the rolling wooden teacher’s chair. “Have a seat before you faint.”

  “I’m not the swooning type.” But she sat anyway.

  “You might be when you see what’s in this morning’s paper.” He withdrew a copy of the Memphis Commercial Appeal from his jacket pocket and spread it on the desk in front of her.

  PROMINENT POLITICIAN FOUND DEAD

  She fisted her hands in front of her face, unable to draw a breath. “Because he …”

  “Read the first paragraph. It will tell you all you need to know.”

  William Kearny, a member of the Memphis city council and a champion of social welfare reform, was found dead in a wooded area of Overton Park last evening by a passerby. He had been missing for almost a week.

  “And you believe he was on Tann’s wrong side.”

  “If not hers, someone close to her.”

  “And this might be connected to what happened here?”

  “As we and others close in on the truth, these politicians and their friends are running scared. And they will do whatever they have to in order to protect their secret.”

  Even murder.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gladys settled into the chair at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee steaming in front of her. She didn’t even have the energy to lift the mug to her lips, though the bitter aroma enticed her.

  With the intense heat in the house, it was a wonder she’d even poured herself a cup, let alone thought about drinking it. Maybe it was more about having a few minutes to rest.

  With the garden coming in, she and Fanny were busy putting up stores for the winter. Pickles, sweet corn, chowchow, green beans. The list went on and on. Every bone and muscle in Gladys’s body ached. Even with Fanny’s help.

  The mite tried her best; you had to give her that. But all that picking and canning and hard work was just about too much for her. Sure, she’d grown some and gotten a good bit stronger, but she was still tiny. Much smaller than any five-year-old Gladys knew.

  When they’d come in from the yard, all hot and sweaty like, Fanny curled in a ball on the hard floor in the corner of the warm kitchen and fell fast asleep. She snored, a little whiffle. Sweet thing. She did her best, bless her heart.

  Boots pounded on the porch.

  Willard.

  He didn’t usually come in this time of day. And if he caught Fanny napping…

  Gladys jumped from her seat to wake the child. But not in time. The door flew open, and there stood Willard like the devil himself. Right away, he turned to where Fanny napped. “What’s she doing? Why ain’t she working?”

  “Please, she was so tired. The poor thing worked hard this morning. We both did, so we’re taking a break. There’s no fault in that.”

  “Don’t you tell me how to run my home. She didn’t come here to loaf around. She could be washing the dishes or sweeping the floor if’n you’re done outside. She’s young and strong. That’s why we got her.”

  Fanny startled awake and sat up, scooting farther into the corner.

  Gladys shook her head. “We got her ’cause we been wanting a girl.”

  “With her background, she should thank her lucky stars she even gots a home. Coming from a neglectful family, poor to boot. They can’t help the way they are.” Willard spit a stream of tobacco.

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “You know these children aren’t quite the same as others. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you. They’re different, is all.”

  “Willard, the child’s right here.”

  Fanny almost disappeared into the plastered wall.

  “She don’t know what I’m saying. But she’s been bred for work, and that’s what she should be doing.” He made a move in Fanny’s direction.

  Gladys jumped in front of him and steered him toward the table. “We’ve all been working hard. Why don’t you get Quinn from the barn, and I’ll make some sweet tea. A treat on a hot day like this.”

  “Quinn’s out doing what he’s supposed to be doing. Unlike this little loafer.”

  Quinn deserved better too. Gladys would try to find a way to slip him a glass of something cool.

  Again, Gladys steered Willard away from Fanny and toward the table. “Fine. Then three of us for a drink.”

  “How about two? Fanny, get up and get the broom. You get this place swept. And I don’t want to see a crumb left.” He turned to Gladys. “And make mine some hooch.”

  “It’s the middle of the day.” If he started drinking now, he’d be three sheets to the wind by dinner.

  He pounded on the table. “If I say I want rotgut, that’s what I expect you to get, woman. Don’t you go sassin’ me again.” His words echoed in the room.

  Fanny scampered away, and the utility closet door opened and shut. Soon, a swishing noise came from the hall.

  “Fine, bathtub gin it is then.”

  He watched her every move, so she couldn’t even water it down. He’d notice the difference anyway.

  She poured the illegal, home-distilled drink and slapped it on the table, picked up her own mug, and dumped the warm joe down the sink. Though it was a bit early, she might as well get supper started. Maybe some food in Willard’s stomach would keep him sober a mite longer.

  By the time she had the stew meat and carrots chopped and in the pot and the biscuits mixed, Willard had three more drinks in him. “Girl, you’d best get in here and get these floors swept. Now. I’m going to inspect to make sure you got the parlor clean.”

  As Fanny scuttled in, Willard staggered out and, as they passed, he knocked her upside the head.

  “Willard, stop it. She ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

  “That’s for sleepin’ when she should be workin’. And she deserves a whole lot more.”

  The broom handle was twice as tall as Fanny, but she persevered and managed to pull the bristles across the floor.

  “Dagnabit, the floor in here’s a mess. Dirt everywhere. Get in here, girl.”

  All the blood drained from Fanny’s face. She knew as well as Gladys did what was coming next.

  “Stay put. I’ll calm him down.” As if there were any reasoning with him so drunk.

  Gladys found Willard on his hands and knees beside the piano against the far wall in the sitting room. “What on God’s green earth are you doing?”

  “Look at this dirt.” He pointed to something.

  She moved to see what Fanny might have missed.

  The floor was spotless. The little mite had managed to sweep it clean. “There ain’t nothing there. You’re seeing things.”

  He came to his feet and swayed. Before she knew what was happening, he spun around and slapped her across the cheek. “Don’t you contradict me. Just wait’ll I get my hands on that good-for-nothin’ girl. I have half a mind to return her to Tann.” He slurred his words.

  “Don’t hurt her. She’s a baby.”

  “Then she shouldn’t be here.”

  Gladys raced ahead of her husband to where Fanny once again cowered in the corner.

  “Out of my way, woman.”

  She flung herself on top of the little girl, who was now whimpering.

  “Hush now, Momma’s gonna make it all right.” Gladys peered over her shoulder. Willard picked up a kitchen chair. What was he going to do with that?

  A moment later, he swung it and hit Gladys in the back of the head. Pain exploded behind her eyes. She fought for consciousness and clung to Fanny. Never, never would she allow him to hurt her again.

  “Mr. Vance?” Miss Connors, his efficient secretary with a
high forehead and curly hair, popped into his office.

  He glanced from the case study he was reading, the red, leather-bound volume heavy in his hands. “Yes?”

  “I’ve finished all the paperwork and billing you requested.”

  In other words, she had no more work for today, even though it was not yet noon. His caseload, even his work for Miss Tann, had dwindled to almost nothing, and that he owed in large part to the Tennessee Children’s Home Society’s director.

  No, she may not have fired him outright, but she was willing to strangle the life out of him figuratively and maybe even literally.

  “Thank you, Miss Connors. If you’d like, you can go home for the day. I’ll pay your full salary.” Even though affording it would be a good trick.

  “Are you sure? I hate to leave you alone if the phone should get busy.”

  He tilted his head and stared at her. They could only pray business would pick up. “I’ll be able to handle it. Enjoy this beautiful afternoon.”

  “I will.” With a soft click of the door, she left.

  His law degree, framed and hanging on the wall, his lawbooks, even his letterhead, all mocked him. If this kept up, he would be forced to let Miss Connors go in the coming weeks. And by Christmas, he might have to take down his shingle. He slammed the book shut, pushed out of his chair, and wandered to the window overlooking Front Street, just blocks from the mighty Mississippi. Perhaps he would end up in a hobo jungle, fighting for scraps, begging for work.

  He rubbed his aching forehead. An oscillating fan blew a breeze, ruffling the papers on his desk but not really breaking the heat. Being a lawyer was supposed to be his ticket out of poverty, out of that difficult and abusive life. But he was headed right back there. Would he end up like his father, addicted to the bottle? He shuddered. Please, God, no.

  The telephone on his desk rang, the chime startling him from his reverie. Three more rings. Why wasn’t Miss Connors answering? Oh, right, he’d sent her home.

  He returned to his desk and picked up the receiver. “Percy Vance.”

  “Mr. Vance, this is R.D. Griggs.”

  Percy worked to keep from seeming too eager. “About time you got back to me. I hope you have some good news.”

  “I did get into the file room at my own peril. Tann is threatening to remove my daughter from our home if I continue assisting you.”

  “Who saw you?”

  “Who’s to say? All I know is that I was spied despite the great lengths I went to in order to remain unseen. Gracious, you’d think the woman had a pair of eyes in every nook and cranny of the city.”

  “She most likely does. Be more cautious next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time. I can’t help you with the records. They’re all sealed. Every one of them. If I open them, I can’t seal them again.”

  “Maybe—”

  “Absolutely not. Losing Pearl would break my wife’s heart. I refuse to allow her to endure that kind of pain.”

  As the breeze from the fan crossed him, Percy huffed out a breath. “There has to be some way.”

  “That’s the reason I’m calling.” The tinkling laughter of a young child floated through the line. Mr. Griggs must be home for lunch, and that must be Pearl in the background.

  That would be Percy’s guess, anyway. “Oh?” He turned and perched on the edge of his expansive desk.

  “Before I give you this information, I want your assurance that this will be the last time you will involve me in this sordid business. I want no more part of it. This is too risky for me and for my family.”

  “And if I don’t agree to your terms?”

  “Then you will never find out what I know.”

  If they needed help in the future, he could always return to Griggs and see if they could work out an agreement. “Fine.”

  “I had to pay a visit upstairs to the registrar’s office. On his desk, he had a stack of court orders from Judge Camille Kelley.”

  Percy gripped the edge of the desk. “Adoptions?”

  “Yes.”

  This could be the break he and Cecile needed. “Did you get a peek at any of them?”

  “Just the top one. There was a sheaf of them. Maybe ten or a dozen or so.”

  “Tann sells these kids in batches.”

  R.D.’s voice tightened. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Okay, no need in riling him up. This was the kind of information Percy had been waiting for. “What did you see?”

  “The paper on top was for a girl, three years old.”

  “And?”

  “Brown hair. Adopted by a Jewish family in Chattanooga.”

  So close. Almost within touching distance. Percy clutched his midsection with one hand and the phone with his other. “Do you have a name for the family who has her?” He hardly dared to breathe.

  “Adolph and Miriam Friedman.”

  A three-year-old girl with brown hair. Sure, there were plenty of them. And with the hundreds of adoptions Tann churned out each year, many of them were sure to match Millie’s description. But there was a chance. “Thank you very much, Mr. Griggs. You’ve done well.”

  “Remember your promise to stay far away from me.”

  “You’ve got it.” Percy dropped the telephone receiver into the cradle.

  Wait until he told Cecile. If this wasn’t Millie, she would be crushed. But they had to investigate. This was their first real lead. They had a trip to make to Chattanooga.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Though R.D. kept his focus on the stack of papers on his desk, Landers’s cold stare sent shivers down his back. The man never took his attention from R.D. It was a wonder that either of them got any work done.

  A haggard woman stepped to the window he worked behind. She must not have run a comb through her wild blond hair in several days or washed it, for that matter. Dark half-moons hung underneath her eyes, and wrinkles radiated from her pale, pinched lips. She could have been twenty-three. She could have been fifty-three.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” He used the polite greeting despite the lack of a wedding ring on her finger.

  “I hope you can,” her alto voice rasped. She glanced behind her and all around before leaning closer. In addition to shampooing her hair, she needed a bath. R.D.’s eyes watered.

  “My child has been stolen.”

  He kept himself from sucking in a big breath. “Stolen? You mean kidnapped? You’ll need the police for that. You can find them—”

  “No, I don’t mean kidnapped. No one is holding him for ransom. I mean stolen.”

  He gripped the edge of the desk and raised himself to the woman’s eye level. “Go home. There is nothing we can do for you here.”

  “But—”

  “Go home and forget about your child. You will never find him. And if you know what’s good for you, don’t come snooping around here again.”

  “Please, listen to me.” Tears glistened in the woman’s blue eyes.

  R.D. turned from his barred window. His skin tingled. Landers was approaching, his footfalls soft on the carpeting.

  From the other side of the window, the woman continued her tirade. “I don’t have anywhere else to turn. You have to help me. I’m a good mother. I didn’t deserve to have him taken away. Please, I’m begging you, for the love of everything good in this world, help me.”

  R.D.’s throat tightened and threatened to close all the way. Since he couldn’t cover his ears, he worked to close his mind. Yet another woman who had lost a child through no fault of her own. Just like Mrs. Dowd. Just like all those whose letters he’d received. What about the girl with the Friedmans in Chattanooga? Was she stolen? Could she be Mrs. Dowd’s child? And what about Pearl? Could she belong to Mrs. Dowd? All he had to do was break the seal on the file and find out.

  No. Never. Pearl belonged to him and Darcy.

  At last, the woman’s voice went hoarse, and her words died off to a whisper. When she couldn’t speak anymore, she banged on the counter. R
.D. kept his focus on his work. After a fruitless hour, the woman walked away. R.D. relaxed his shoulders. Within moments, Landers was at his side. “Don’t ever think about helping a single one of these crazy women.” His words were like the hiss of a snake.

  The hairs on R.D.’s arms stood up straight. “Of course not.”

  He’d never been happier to have a workday end. He cleaned up his desk and made his way home. Ah, home. His safe haven. Darcy would have supper ready. Pearl would run into his arms. He would unwind in his favorite brown armchair. He climbed the porch steps and opened the front door. “I’m home.”

  Instead of being greeted by Pearl, he discovered Darcy curled up in a corner of the green davenport. He dropped his briefcase on the floor and went to her. As soon as he sat beside her, she reached out to him and clung to him.

  He stroked her long, silky hair. “What’s wrong, darling?”

  For the longest moment, she held him and sobbed as if she would drown if she let go. He shushed her, and she finally ceased weeping. When she peered at him, her blue eyes were red-rimmed. “I can’t lose her. Do you know what it would do to me if they took her away?”

  He did. All too well. He remembered the nights he spent at her bedside in the hospital after they lost their stillborn son. He begged the doctors not to commit her. Instead, he remained next to her and nursed her back to health little by little.

  And today marked five years since the death of their son. By now, her heart should have healed, but it hadn’t. Would it ever? Would his? If Tann took Pearl away, it would devastate them both.

  What if this child in Chattanooga turned out not to be Mrs. Dowd’s child but Pearl was? Darcy would never recover. “There’s nothing to do but to pray.”

  She gazed at him. “But there is. We can run. It’s the perfect solution. We’ll go far away where no one knows us, out of Tann’s reach. Start fresh with no more fear for our daughter’s security.”

  “I can’t pick up and leave. This is where my job is. Where our home is. Our church and our friends.”

  “I would give all that up, all our security, in a second for my daughter. I would sacrifice anything to keep her. Wouldn’t you?”