Out of the Easy(68)

I walked back to the shop, watching for the postman on the way. Shouldn’t I have heard from Smith by now? Patrick was behind the counter sorting a box of books when I arrived at the store. I wanted to dash to my room, avoid him altogether.

“Jo, I’m so glad you’re here. I was worried that you wouldn’t come.”

“I live here, Patrick.”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “I want to apologize for everything. My mind is all over the place these days.”

I moved toward the counter. “It’s understandable. Your father just died.”

“I just need some time. I’ve decided to take my mother up on her invitation, stay with her awhile.”

“For how long?” I asked.

“Until Christmas.”

“Christmas? That’s a long time.”

“I’m going to the Florida Keys first, to take some things to Charlie’s friends. I’ll stay a week, then sail to Havana to meet my mom and her husband for vacation. From there we’ll go on to Trinidad. That’s where they live now. Mom’s husband has an oil deal there.”

“What will you do in Trinidad?”

“Get my head together. Randolph says the US may go into Korea. Maybe I’ll enlist when I come back. I don’t know.”

Patrick in the service? I tried to think of the goat and sheep reference Detective Langley had used. I could definitely see Jesse in the military. He’d make a good soldier. But Patrick?

“Randolph told me some of the divisions set up musical outfits during the war,” said Patrick.

“Oh, so you’d go as a musician, not a soldier.”

“Well, no, I’d be both.” Patrick fiddled with a piece of paper on the counter in front of him. “What, sounds kinda crazy?”

Patrick in the military. Yes, it sounded completely ridiculous. “You know what?” I said. “Me at Smith and you in the military. They’re both crazy.” I started to laugh.

Patrick broke into laughter too. “We’ll swap pictures, you in a monogrammed sweater and me in a uniform.” The thought of Patrick in a uniform made me howl. A woman walked in front of the shop. We threw our hands down on the counter trying to beat each other to the signal. Patrick’s knees were bent, practically in a lunge. I had dropped my purse on the floor in excitement. We both had our pinky fingers on the counter. Romance. We roared with laughter, so loud and raucous that the woman took her hand off the door and scurried away.

“Come back!” yelled Patrick. “I’ll wrap them in a paper bag for you. No one will see.”

“Stop, my stomach hurts,” I told him. I picked my purse up off the floor.

“I’m gonna miss that,” said Patrick. His face became more serious. “I’ve wanted to tell you something. Doubleday has offered to buy a large part of our inventory. I need to give them an answer by tomorrow. I think I’m going to do it.”

“You’re selling the shop?”

“Not the shop, just a lot of the books. I’ll be gone, and you’ll be at Smith. If I decide to stick around once I come back, I’ll just buy more inventory. You know I love the buying, the hunt.”

“Sure,” I said. I looked around the shop, sad to think of the shelves half empty.

“Jo, I was hoping that we could keep our conversation the other day between us. I’m leaving, so what I told you doesn’t really matter now anyway.”

I looked at Patrick. Leaving meant he wouldn’t be able to see Kitty, the girl he loved, but he also wouldn’t risk betraying his friend James. It was honorable. “I won’t tell,” I told him.

“I have to send a telegram to my mother. Can you watch the shop?” he asked me.

“Sure. Just let me change. I’m filthy from Willie’s.”

I walked past the stacks of books and up the stairs, suddenly feeling a deep attachment to all of them, wondering which ones I’d have to visit on the shelves at Doubleday. My door swung open when I put the key in the lock. I stepped back. I had not forgotten to lock my door.

I kicked the door open with my foot and peered inside from the landing. The curtain lifted and swayed in the cross breeze of the cracked window over my desk. I slowly stepped into the room. My eyes immediately fastened on the green Adler’s box, lying on the floor next to my desk. The hinges were popped open, the bed of white satin holding nothing but the cradle imprint where the watch used to sit. I looked toward the closet in the room. It was open a crack. I backed up toward my chest of drawers, eyes on the closet, and quietly pulled open the small top drawer. Arm behind my back, I inserted my hand. I pushed back deeper into the drawer. My pistol was gone. The closet door moved slightly. I crept toward it and grabbed the bat leaning up against my desk. Curling my fingers around the handle, I raised the barrel above my shoulder. I threw open the closet.

No one was there.

I released my breath and lowered the bat. I reached down to pick up the watch box. That’s when I saw it.

My bed was moved. Just a tiny bit. Nearly undetectable. I threw down the box and dove under my bed. I was so frantic I could barely pull up the floorboard. I plunged my hand down into the floor and pulled it back up holding the wrinkled envelope.

The money was gone.





FORTY-SIX