Scandal in the Secret City (13 page)

‘Oh, I can’t tell you how much that means to me.’

‘Whatever is troubling you, Libby, just remember that decisions made in haste are decisions that we regret all too soon.’

‘I’ll do nothing until I talk with you. Thank you, Aunt Dorothy.’ I carefully set the receiver back in its cradle as unshed tears moistened my eyes.

‘Is everything OK at home, dear?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Aunt Dorothy will be visiting the university soon and I’ll be able to see her.’

‘That’s wonderful, dear. I’m not your mother or your Aunt Dorothy, Libby, but if you ever need an older woman to talk to …’

‘Thank you, Mrs Bishop. I really need to run. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.’

What a relief. Aunt Dorothy would not tell me what to do but she would listen carefully and walk me through the maze of conflicting responsibilities and help me set priorities. It still wouldn’t be an easy decision but at least I wouldn’t have to make it alone.

I
was working on a report when Ann Bishop breezed into the room. She walked past me without a glance, dropping a folded-up piece of paper on my desk without a pause. Every pair of male eyes followed Ann as she travelled the length of the lab and out the door at the other end. I could tell by the way she walked that she was aware of their stares and loving every minute of it.

I opened up the note and read: Washroom. Five minutes. Don’t be late.

Whatever did she want now? I liked Ann but sometimes she seemed such a silly girl and although I was only three years older than her, the difference in maturity often made my teeth ache.

I finished the paragraph I was writing and followed Ann down the hall. Did this summons have anything to do with tonight’s dinner? Did she think I knew something about her that her parents didn’t know and she wanted to warn me not to mention it? I pushed open the washroom door.

‘Lock it,’ Ann hissed.

‘Lock the door?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Do it.’

I flipped the catch. ‘OK. Now, what’s so urgent?’

‘What have you done?’

‘What?’

‘You heard me. What have you done?’

‘I don’t know what you want to know, Ann. Is this about dinner tonight? Don’t you want me to come?’

‘Oh, no, I want you more than ever. I can’t wait to see how Dad acts while you’re there.’

‘Ann, you aren’t making any sense,’ I said, feeling like I’d stepped into the middle of a book without a clue about what happened in the first half of the story.

‘You really don’t know, do you?’

I shook my head.

‘You’re in big trouble and you don’t even know it?’

‘Big trouble? What are you talking about? Please, Ann, start from the beginning.’

‘Last night, we’d finished dinner and Mom and I stood up to clear the table. Before we could step away, there was a loud, pounding knock on the door. Dad pushed back his chair and went to answer it. Mom and I hurried into the kitchen to set down the dishes and then rushed back to see what was happening.

‘There were four uniformed soldiers at the door. And Dad was in a bad mood. He doesn’t like the military one little bit. He would put up with the solitary private that used to come with messages or to summon him to the laboratory or a meeting somewhere, but he didn’t like it. That’s one reason why he insisted that we get a telephone and raised Cain until we got one. We haven’t had many uniforms at the house since. But this time there were four of them and Dad was not happy. After they left, he called it an invasion.’

‘OK, OK, Ann, get to the point.’

‘Oh, right. Well, the reason they were there was because of you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. They wanted to know what you were doing at our house. Dad said he didn’t know you’d been there, which isn’t exactly true because Mom told him about the roast. But sometimes he doesn’t really listen so he probably wasn’t lying.

‘Mom said you were calling home and told them they should know that since they listened in to all our phone calls. The lieutenant got all huffy about that and gave her a speech about her patriotic duty, war time and all of that. Mom got huffy right back at him, talking about her sacrifices and the mud.

‘Then the lieutenant said you were talking in code on the phone. And Mom said he was a crazy man. She said you were just a poor, sweet girl who was homesick and having boy problems.

‘And the lieutenant said it was all a ruse. And my mom said that she was calling the administrators and asking them to build an asylum on the grounds because obviously that’s where he needed to be. Then the lieutenant got ugly. He threatened Mom for covering up for a spy. That’s when Daddy hit the roof and ordered them out of the house. The lieutenant said they’d be watching all of us and then they left.’

It was difficult to grasp the essence of the situation but it had to be about Irene. What had Irene done to make them so determined to hide her murder? ‘What was the lieutenant’s name?’

Ann wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘Could it have been Cooper – Lieutenant James Cooper?’

‘Yes. It might have been.’

‘Brown hair. Blue eyes. And an expression on his face that looks like he just smelled something bad.’

‘Yes. That’s him.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘So what have you done, Libby?’

‘I’ve done nothing wrong, Ann. I swear it.’

‘Then, why …?’ Ann began.

‘He just doesn’t like me,’ I said.

‘Oh, he made a move on you and you put him in his place, didn’t you?’

Not only did Ann accept my improvised answer at face value but she expanded on it. I certainly didn’t want to deceive her but I didn’t want to elaborate either. ‘I hope your parents weren’t too upset.’

‘Well, when you left, Daddy told me that I shouldn’t be spending anymore time with you. It wouldn’t look good. Mom lit into him like you wouldn’t believe. She said you were a wonderful young woman. That you set a good example for me. Dad asked her if that was what she wanted for me – if she wanted me to be a career woman. Mom said that of course she didn’t want that. She wanted me married. She wanted grandchildren. But for now and until the war was over, I had to have my little career and learn responsibility and I could learn it all from you. And then she said that you were a sensible girl who could help me find the right kind of man instead of making the same mistake that a lot of women do.’

‘A piece of meat did all that?’ I asked.

‘Well, no, Libby. She liked you before that. She felt real bad for you at Christmastime, all alone and everything. While we were away, she kept fretting about you, regretting not inviting you to come along. After Christmas, she said that not having you with us in Nashville was one of the biggest mistakes she’d ever made.’

Terrific, she must think I’m pathetic; a pity case. ‘I guess I shouldn’t be coming to dinner tonight then.’

‘Oh, you better. That’s when she told Daddy you were coming for supper. When he said that was not a good idea, Mom said, “Oh, you’re going to let a few little soldiers push you around. Are we going to have to run and hide again?”’

‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know. I asked Mom later and she told me it was just an expression and then said that it was rude for me to eavesdrop on their conversations. But they were talking right in front of me, Libby. What did she expect?

‘Anyway, Dad turned bright red when she said that and stomped out of the house without a coat or boots or anything. We heard him stomping around the outside of the house. In five minutes he came back in and said, “Is there anything for dessert?” Mom said, “It depends.” And Daddy said, “I’m looking forward to seeing that nice Clark girl tomorrow evening. She’s a hard worker, a quick thinker and a very pleasant young lady.” And that was that. I sure don’t know what’s gotten into Mom. When I was growing up, no matter what Dad said, she’d always go along with it. “Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear.” Now, it’s just the opposite. Dad doesn’t say the same words but he acts just like Mom used to.’

‘Do you think their marriage is in trouble?’ I asked.

‘Oh, no. Nothing like that. They get along just fine. It’s just that I used to think Dad was in charge but now it seems like Mom is.’

‘Maybe you just see things differently because you’re older,’ I suggested.

Ann shrugged. ‘Maybe. I tried to talk to Mom about it but she just said, “Never you mind, young lady. Some things are just between you father and I. When you’re married, you’ll understand about that.” Of course if this war doesn’t end soon, I’ll be an old spinster and never get married.’

‘So are you sure I should come tonight?’

‘Oh, you have to come. I promised I wouldn’t say a word to you. If you don’t come they’ll know I broke my promise.’

‘Ann, you shouldn’t have,’ I said in mock protest.

Ann giggled and said, ‘We girls have to stick together. Gotta get back to my desk before I’m missed. See you tonight.’

I leaned back against the sink. Things were getting messier and messier. I didn’t want to cause any problems between Ann’s parents. I’d really have to make sure I didn’t let any of them know what was up until I talked to Aunt Dorothy and sorted everything out. I’d go to work, go home and do nothing else but the bare minimum of shopping.

The military had made a mistake with that overt action – now I was forewarned. If did find answers to Irene’s murder, they’d stop at nothing to shut me down. All day at work, the conversation with Ann kept running through my head, threatening to stir up my fear. But that emotion was debilitating – I was determined not to become afraid.

After work, I caught the bus and disembarked just two blocks from home. I walked fast to keep the deepening cold at bay. When I went up the steps, I spotted a small potato sack sat on the landing. I scooped it up and went inside. I set it on the table while I got the fire going.

I stoked the embers, tossed on more coals, pulled off my gloves and warmed my hands over the fire. Slipping out of my coat, I carried the bag to the kitchen counter. Inside was a pair of hand-knitted green mittens with yellow stripes. They’d come in handy if there was a snow. With these, I could help the kids next door build a snowman. But where did they come from?

I spotted a piece of paper in the bottom of the stack and pulled it out. ‘I have my eyes on you.’

I jumped back, dropped it as if it were a hot coal and watched it drift to the floor. My heart thudded painfully. I picked the note up and read it again. Who left it on my porch? Lieutenant Cooper? The man who killed Irene? I ran into the living room, opened the door to the coal stove and threw the mittens inside.

That was probably a mistake. I was just being paranoid. All this secrecy and warnings about spies had made me too wary – too jumpy. Maybe it was nothing more than a secret admirer who had no idea that his simple words could be twisted into such a dark meaning. Still, I could not shake my feeling of unease. I grabbed a kitchen chair and rammed it under the knob of the front door.

‘I’ve got my eyes on you.’ After the war, I’d laugh about this moment. Maybe. It all depended on how the war ended – and with the production line for the uranium sitting idle, hope of a good outcome had stagnated. How would I be able to sleep ever again?

W
alking to the Bishop home, I was on edge. Was I being followed? Or was it the phone call that captured the attention of the authorities? I squirmed and fought the constant desire to look over my shoulder as I walked. If I started behaving furtively, and someone was watching, it would only make matters worse.

Ann answered the door with a grin and whispered, ‘Good luck’ into my ear as she helped me out of my coat. Dreading the sight of Dr Bishop, I plastered on a smile and stepped out of the small foyer into the living room where the fireplace was blazing.

He pulled a pipe out of his mouth and rose as I entered saying, ‘Good evening, Miss Clark. Come closer to the fire and warm your hands.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ I said, stepping forward to absorb the heat.

‘Has there been any excitement in your life lately?’

A lump formed in my throat. Was he making conversation? Was he spying on me for the security department? Or was he just nervous about having me in his house? ‘You probably know more about the situation at Y-12 than I do,’ I answered. ‘But on the personal front, I just finished reading a fascinating book I got for Christmas,
The Robe
by Lloyd Douglas. Have you read it?’

‘No. But it seems everyone else has. We have a copy here somewhere. I believe Mrs Bishop has read it. What else is happening in your life?’

To my great relief, Mrs Bishop stepped into the living room with a more exuberant greeting than her usual cheery welcome. Was it because of the roast? Or out of curiosity about my trouble with security?

‘Dear Libby! What a joy to see you,’ she said. Placing a hand on each of my arms, she leaned forward and brushed a kiss on my cheek. ‘Dinner will be ready in five minutes.’

‘Let me help,’ I offered, eager to escape Dr Bishop’s gaze.

‘Oh no, dear, you’re company, I couldn’t allow that.’

‘Of course you can. When I’m in your home, I feel like family – and family
always
helps out.’

Mrs Bishop beamed. ‘Well, come along then. I’d love to have your help.’

At the dinner table, Dr Bishop sliced the roast in nearly paper-thin pieces. The result was mouthfuls of roast beef that seemed to melt on the tongue. I accepted seconds but balked when Mrs Bishop offered me a third serving. ‘Not another bite,’ I said. ‘That was delicious, Mrs Bishop. You prepared that meat to perfection. Thank you. It’s definitely the best meal I’ve had since Thanksgiving.’

‘It’s not just what I did, dear. The taste had a lot to do with how Mr Bishop sliced it – he’s a magician with that carving knife. But even more importantly, if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have had this luscious eye of round to prepare and enjoy. Thank
you
, Libby.’

‘Miss Clark,’ Dr Bishop said, ‘since you feel like family here, I am thinking you would not mind if I asked you a personal question.’

I forced a smile and said, ‘Of course not.’

‘Could you tell me why security came by here to ask about you last night?’

‘No sir, I can’t.’

‘Have you been discussing your work with anyone?’

‘Not anyone outside of my laboratory, sir.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Then why would they have any interest in you?’

‘I–I–I think it might have something to do with the roommate I had while I was in the dormitory. She was let go right after Christmas.’

‘Was she betraying her country?’

‘No sir. No. Not Ruth. She doesn’t even know anything worth telling anyone.’

‘Sometimes, Miss Clark, the most innocent comments told out of school can do unimaginable damage.’

‘Sir, it had to do with her sister. Her sister, Irene. She was murdered. Ruth made a few unwise comments when she was very emotional about the loss of her sister.’

‘I must say, Miss Clark, I am very concerned about security’s interest in you. But more importantly, I am disturbed that the issue has been brought into my home. Can you give me any reason why I shouldn’t be worried about this development?’

I opened my mouth but words failed me. I closed and opened it again.

In a high-pitched voice, Mrs Bishop piped in, ‘I made a special dessert for tonight. I broke into my sugar supply and baked a jelly roll.’ She pushed her chair back from the table.

Ann popped to her feet. ‘Stay seated, Mom. I’ll be right back.’

‘But the dessert plates – you’ll need help with those,’ Mrs Bishop said, rising to her feet.

I lurched up out of the chair, eager to grasp at the opportunity to escape. ‘Sit back down, ma’am. I’ll help Ann.’

I couldn’t get into the kitchen fast enough. I stepped through the swinging door and leaned against the counter. ‘Phew!’

‘You’re telling me,’ Ann said. ‘I couldn’t stand another minute of that. Ssssh! Listen.’

I barely breathed as she strained to hear the quiet conversation in the other room. I couldn’t pick out any distinct words but the tone was apparent. Mrs Bishop was chastising her husband. He argued back with her. Then he raised his voice, ‘OK, Mildred, OK! You’ve made your point.’

After a moment of silence, Ann said, ‘Coast is clear. Let’s go.’

Ann picked up the plate with the jelly roll and I grabbed the dessert plates and forks. I smiled and nodded as Mrs Bishop engaged in nearly non-stop chatter about the weather, her frustrations with bureaucrats and the anticipation of spring.

My nerves jangled like the bell on a besieged shop door. I could barely wait for enough time to pass before I could excuse myself without appearing rude. When the moment seemed right, I thanked Mrs Bishop again and bid a good night to the family.

‘Wait a minute, Libby,’ Mrs Bishop said and turned to her husband. ‘Marc, darling, it is absolutely frigid out tonight. Why don’t you give Libby a ride home?’

My chest tightened. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t bear to be alone with Dr Bishop. He was bound to begin the interrogation in the car before he even slipped it into gear. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t impose like that on Dr Bishop. I’ll walk. It’s not that far.’

‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Bishop said. ‘Marc, go warm up the car.’

‘No, really, Mrs Bishop. I want to walk. After all I’ve eaten tonight, I need to walk. If I don’t, I’ll never be able to get to sleep – my stomach is too full.’

‘But it is terribly cold out—’ Mrs Bishop began.

‘You are being rather foolish, Miss Clark.’ Dr Bishop joined his wife’s entreaties.

‘Daddy that’s rude,’ Ann admonished.

Dr Bishop frowned at his daughter, then at me, and turned to go back into his study. It certainly felt as though I’d been dismissed and I wasn’t sure how welcome I’d be again in the Bishop household. Dr Bishop clearly felt I caused more trouble that I was worth, and right now I wouldn’t have blamed him.

Mrs Bishop furrowed her brow. ‘Well, if you’re sure …’

‘Absolutely! A brisk walk through the cold night is just what the doctor ordered.’ I pulled on gloves as I talked and headed for the front door. ‘Thanks again for a wonderful dinner and a lovely evening.’

Halfway back to my house, the pain in my nose and the numbness in my toes filled me with regret about my decision. But what choice did I have. At least, now, with no one else out walking on the blustery night, I knew I was not being followed.

When my home came into view, I picked up my pace but halfway up to the steps, I froze. An envelope was wedged between the side of the door and the jamb, reminding me of the mystery gift of mittens and my suppressed dread. I rushed up to the door, grabbed the envelope, went inside and flipped on a light. It was a Western Union envelope which meant a telegram. I ripped it open.

‘Wednesday, January 13. Dinner. Andrew Johnson Hotel.’

Six days. Six long days. Could I stay calm and not draw any more suspicion till then?