Speak Easy Speak Danger Page 2

  “Then, I respectfully defer to your superior skill.” Jo gave a formal bow. “The stomachs of all present, thank you.”

  “But it’s my turn and not fair for you on the one day you aren’t scheduled,” Fiona said. Jo could see the anguish overcome the pain on her face.

  “I wouldn’t offer if I objected, Fiona. Not even to save us the indignity of food poisoning.”

  “Ha, ha,” Jo said. “I’m calling Eddie Cantor to tell him he’s lost one of his radio comedians and should come to get you.” Brigid began breakfast as Jo sat down across the table from Fiona.

  To the room in general, Jo said, “I appreciate you going into town to meet Tessa.” She nodded to Fiona. “And for letting me take this project before we’ve finished Jane Parker’s hope chest.”

  Fiona shrugged. “We’re close enough to the finished point on that, so it won’t be a hardship to complete on my own. Besides, when the school year is over, I want to take a week or so off from the shop to spend with Margaret.” Jo wondered if Fiona would use the time to tell Margaret about the spurts of blindness that accompanied her more severe migraines.

  As Brigid cooked, Margaret asked, “So, Jo, is this strictly a working friendship, or more?”

  “Yeah,” Fiona said, “your words say this is only a job, but your voice and expression change so much when you say ‘Tessa’ that I wonder if she means more to you.”

  Margaret gave an exaggerated batting of her eyelashes, a hand to her chest, and whispered, “Tessa, Tessa.”

  Jo felt her cheeks heat with her embarrassment. She could only wish there would be more for them, but Jo hardly knew Tessa, even if their few interactions suggested Tessa encouraged opportunities to share more time.

  Chapter Two

  They closed the house up, all four women standing on the porch soaking up the good weather when Brigid noticed Nicholas pull up in his 1922 Renault KZ, with the soft-top pulled up in place even though the day was beautiful. Ethel would not want her hair mussed.

  “Guess we’re ready to go,” Brigid said. “My ride has arrived.”

  “Yes, and your date is rather exuberant, too.” Margaret smiled and gave her a wink. Poking the upper portion of his torso through the opened back window and enthusiastically waving, hung little five-year-old Richard Walters.

  “You should charge Ethel for all the times she pawns the kid off on you,” Jo said into Brigid’s ear. She waved back, pushed her shoulder into Jo’s in a silent reprimand. “What? Anyone watching would think him your son.”

  “You know I enjoy doing it.” Brigid walked ahead of the others down the sidewalk. She did enjoy time with Richard, even though she too, worried about the depth of their relationship’s bond. Brigid hoped Richard, being young, wouldn’t notice how often his mother pawned his nursing off onto someone else—usually her. With her advanced years, she was almost thirty, and no prospect of a serious suitor, Brigid wanted to enjoy the child before her dotage settled in, or he grew too big for her attention.

  Nicholas popped out of the driver's door and rushed to the back passenger door. “Scoot over, little man. Miss Brigid doesn’t need you climbing on her like a monkey.”

  “I’m not a monkey,” Richard said indignantly.

  Nicholas slapped his palms to his cheeks and gave a moue of surprise. “You’re not? What are you then?”

  “A little boy.” Richard sighed as if the answer obvious.

  “Oh,” Nicholas said. “Then, again, I say scoot over, and let us see if you can be a proper gentleman.”

  Richard glared and sat correctly, patted the space next to him while he tossed a glare toward Nicholas. “Come on, Miss Brigid, we goin’ bye-bye for the ride.”

  “Thank you, Richard.” Brigid glanced behind her at her family. “We’ll meet you downtown.” As she slipped onto the seat, Brigid heard Jo tell Nicholas, “Shop’s on Union Street, by the depot. It’s called Seamlessly Stylish.”

  Nicholas nodded and slid behind the steering wheel. “Everybody ready?” After everyone voiced their response, Nicholas pulled onto the street.

  It couldn’t be a more beautiful Saturday morning, and the majority of town seemed to be out and enjoying the day. The day made more exciting with her family meeting Tessa Langford, the woman who unknowingly held Jo’s heart. They managed to find a parking spot and got out in front of Tessa’s dress shop. Although the closed sign hung in the window, the door was ajar in anticipation of their arrival. From close by came the sounds of raucous male laughter. When Jo turned sideways to glance down the sidewalk, she noticed three of the boys who had graduated with her. They were roughhousing, pushed each other, slapped each other on the backs, and their bad jokes carried on the wind. Some of the families out for a stroll purposely stopped and crossed to the other side of the street.

  Jo tried to usher Margaret and Fiona into the shop before Thomas Gendry and his boys, Donald and Walter, got to them. Unfortunately, they caught sight of Jo and picked up their pace. “Hey, Cavanaugh, what’s the hurry?”

  “Yeah, don’t want to chat with men?” Thomas sneered. Men was not a word Jo used to associate with the trio. Thomas was average in height and weight, with blond hair and blue eyes. He came from money, which was the only aspect to make him stand out and gave his excuse to break people who didn’t kowtow to his whims.

  “Just move along, boys,” Jo said.

  Tessa tried to close the door behind her, but the three boys weren’t going to make their departure easy.

  Thomas shouldered his way inside, seemingly determined to focus his harassment on Fiona. “Hey, I heard you’re some tough guy, wearing trousers and hanging with gangsters. Is it true? Are you hard-boiled?” Fiona ignored the taunt and placed herself between Thomas and Margaret. Thomas glanced around the store’s interior. “Maybe while you’re in here, you can finally get you and Jo a dress. It’s degrading or should be, girls traipsing around town like men. Bad enough, isn’t it, that you’re doing men’s work?”

  “Leave her alone, Thomas,” Jo said.

  He smirked. “What's either of you going to do about it?” He poked Fiona with a finger in her chest, stabbed the digit in heavy jabs. Walter and Donald flanked Jo.

  “Leave this shop. We aren’t open for business.” Tessa made her way beside Margaret, a pretty, auburn-haired woman with dark green eyes, who stopped Tessa’s approach with an upraised hand.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Fiona said, her tone low. “I’m sorry you take exception to my attire, but I can’t see how it’s any of your business. My family and I wish you to leave us in peace.”

  “Nah, can’t do that,” Thomas said. “Need to point out wrongs.” Thomas lunged toward Fiona, only managed to trip, whether purposeful or not wasn’t readily discernable and landed solidly against Fiona. Both crashed to the wood floor. Jo’s human bookends grabbed onto her arms, prevented her from going to assist her sister. She panicked when Fiona’s forehead smacked into one of the crates on the floor. “Need me to teach you the differences between men and women? Do you need to be fucked?”

  Blood oozed from her wound, but what Jo feared most was the glassy-eyed expression on Fiona’s face as she let out a terrified whimper, “No, Jimmy.”

  Thomas’s expression was confused. “Who?”

  Before she could think better of it or think it all, Jo slammed a heel into Donald’s shin, yanked herself out of Donald’s grip, and practically dragged Walter until he released her. Then, Jo grabbed Thomas roughly by the collar, pulled him to his feet, and tossed him out the still-open door. He landed hard, his friends rushed to his side and laughed jovially—until seeing the furious look on Thomas’s face.

  Thomas brushed himself off, and the heavy reek of alcohol breath assaulted Jo. They’d been drinking harder than she’d originally suspected. Thomas glared at her and asked, “What the hell was that, bitch?”

  “Get on your way before I call—”

  “Jo,” Brigid yelled from across the street
. She stood beside Ethel with Richard cradled in her arms.

  Nicholas dodged cars in his haste to cross to her. “Jo?”

  “What’s going on, Jo?” Jo turned to the voice to see her friend and new police officer, Randall Braddock, a tall, gangly boy of nineteen. During the last couple of years of high school, Randall’s interest in Jo had increased, until Jo had to tell him they couldn’t be more than friends. Randall suggested they could get to know each other as friends, see if the relationship went beyond.

  Jo didn’t have the heart to burst his disillusionment. So far, friendship worked. “These boys,” Jo said distastefully, “have accosted my sister.”

  “She okay?” Randall asked, real concern in his expression.

  “Not sure, but she’s bleeding, which has Margaret unsettled.” Jo couldn’t explain the possible flashback Fiona may have suffered.

  Thomas stood to his full height even though he swayed. “The clumsy bitch did it to herself.”

  “Yeah, just having a little fun,” Donald said, fat lips pursed. He tried to cross his arms over his chest, but his fleshy rolls didn’t make the action easy.

  “Not ladylike, sprawled on the floor,” Walter agreed. He was a visual duplicate of Thomas, though from the other side of the tracks, which precluded him having two bits to rub together, carried on the mental match of Thomas’s bullying with a more violent lean.

  “Only you appreciate your idea of fun.” Randall glanced at the store before he turned back to the three boys. “I’m going to see if Miss Cavanaugh intends to press charges. Maybe the storekeeper intends to.” He glanced at Nicholas. “Keep an eye on them. They’ll probably turn tail and run, but don’t let them back in the shop.” Nicholas gave a silent nod.

  “My father ain’t gonna stand for this,” Thomas said.

  “Don’t care if he does, Thomas. I’ll do the paperwork either way. Plus, I know where you live.” Randall went inside the store, and Jo followed. “Too bad he’s right. Daddy’ll make sure this goes away.”

  Margaret sat on the floor, Fiona was in her arms while she applied a handkerchief to the wound on Fiona’s head. Tessa held a glass of water out to Margaret.

  Jo knelt in front of Fiona and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Fiona? Are you all right?”

  Margaret answered for her. “She’s fine, considering, and doesn’t want trouble. She won’t press charges,” Margaret said, her gaze on Randall. “Won’t do any good with his kind.”

  Randall stepped closer to them. “Are you sure? They’re drunk, and they’ve done this bullying before. They shouldn’t get away with it.”

  Fiona shut her eyes. “I’d rather not make more of this than necessary.” She stood, Margaret on one side and Jo on the other helped her until certain her balance okay before they released her. “Just let it go, Officer Braddock.”

  Jo didn’t like how pale Fiona had become. She also worried about the effect her head injury would have on her eyesight issue. But from the glazing in Fiona’s eyes, and the worried look on Margaret’s face, Jo knew the blow wasn’t what had Fiona out of kilter.

  Randall moved to the door with Tessa, and Jo followed. As Tessa held the handle on the doorknob, Randall turned to the room. “Let me know if you change your mind. Hooligans may come from money, but don’t mean they should get away with stuff.”

  “Thanks for being here when we needed you, Randall,” Jo said. She needed him to leave, preferably with Thomas and crew so she could tend her family, and before personal aspects were wrenched from the dark and pulled into the light.

  Randall extended a hand to Tessa. His sea-green eyes gazed at her from a heavily freckled face. “Randall Braddock. I work at the station with your brother, obviously.” He blushed. “Wish our first meeting were different.”

  Tessa nodded. “I wish it had happened that way, too, and I thank you for assisting.”

  Randall glanced down at Jo, who returned his gaze steadily. “I’ll send these boys on their way. I hope to see you again soon, Jo.”

  Thanking Randall, Jo nodded to Tessa to close the door. They returned to where Fiona and Margaret stood, Fiona visibly shaken. Margaret glanced at Tessa and asked, “Is there a private room I could take her to make sure she’s okay?”

  “I’ve locked the door, so we shouldn’t be interrupted,” Tessa said. She pointed toward the back of the room. “There’s a set of stairs to my apartment. Take her up, and we’ll let her rest while we have tea and get to know each other.” Just as they started toward the back of the room, there came a pounding at the front door. Jo and Tessa turned to see a worried Brigid and Nicholas, Ethel and Richard beside them. Brigid appeared frantic. Tessa glanced at Jo, as if in silent question on their suitability to enter. Jo nodded.

  Once they were inside, Brigid immediately rushed to Fiona’s side. “We saw some of what happened from across the street. She okay?”

  Margaret shrugged. “It’s just disconcerting for her. With her recent nightmares, it brought back—”

  Jo, worried about the same thing. She didn’t want the matter blurted before Tessa and Ethel, which could effectively destroy any hope of friendship, let alone more. Jo said, “Let’s take this upstairs.” She turned to Nicholas. “Thank you for your assistance. Would it be too much to ask for you to take Ethel and Richard home? We’ll give a raincheck on the outing.” With a nod, Nicholas picked up Richard and escorted Ethel from the shop. Once again, door locked, and then inside Tessa’s little apartment upstairs, Margaret sat with Fiona on the small couch.

  Chapter Three

  Margaret held Fiona’s hand like a lifeline and Tessa wondered what underlying demons the crude drama downstairs managed to release. She suspected, from Fiona’s reaction and the conversation with Brigid and Jo, trauma in Fiona’s past caused the dull eyes and pale complexion. Tessa suspected a close mirroring of Fiona’s reaction just from the disgusting words Thomas spewed. She set the percolator to boil and took out a coffee set specifically used for visitors. Tessa glanced over her shoulder toward Margaret. “I don’t believe this is the introduction Jo had in mind, but I’m glad you’ve stayed.”

  Margaret said, “Glad the invitation is still open. Sorry for the display, and our current—”

  “Think nothing of it. Let me get some ice on your forehead,” Tessa said as she started for the icebox.

  With a trembling voice, Fiona said, “No, that’s not necessary. Don’t put yourself through any trouble. I’ve been enough already.”

  Jo, from her position beside the door, straightened and said, “Thank you, Tessa, for letting us invade your apartment. Of course, this isn’t how we intended to introduce my family to you.” She pointed to each one as she spoke. “The one with the cracked skull is my sister Fiona. Beside her is Margaret, our sister-in-law.” Tessa looked at each woman in turn as Jo made the introductions. But from what she’d noticed downstairs and what she saw here right now, Tessa wondered at the true relationship between Margaret and Fiona. Although it outwardly seemed sisterly, they appeared closer, made her “my” rather than “our” sister-in-law. Tessa wondered if Jo would take offense if she questioned aloud but then decided the conversation was for much later in their relationship. If their friendship progressed, she internally reminded herself. Jo pointed to the only other woman in the room, Brigid. “She’s our cousin.”

  Tessa smiled. “I’m happy to meet all of you.”

  Jo shrugged, flashed a beautiful smile at Tessa before her face flushed. Jo shoved her hands in her pocket and said, “Guess we could talk about the work you need to be done.”

  Little over an hour later, Tessa prepared to usher them down the stairs to leave the shop but heard the pounding of heavy footfalls on the stairs. Tessa recognized the tread as belonging to her brother, Warren. She winced and knew the scene would not go well. The women flinched in unison as Warren slammed through the door. He wore his usual scowl, and the glance he gave Margaret, Jo, and Fiona bordered beyond disrespectful. His glance, howev
er, seemed a little more inviting and friendlier toward Brigid. As he glared at Tessa, he said, “I heard about an altercation. What the hell happened, Tessa?”

  “Just some drunk boys getting out of hand.”

  Warren nodded absently. “Yes, I’m sure they’re celebrating graduation.”

  “Doesn’t give them an excuse to be ruffians.” Jo snickered.

  Warren’s scowl deepened. He glared at Jo from head to toe with a smirk on his lips. Tessa knew he was about to become more insulting than his visual perusal. “Maybe they mistook you two as ruffians. Probably didn’t recognize you are ladies.” He sneered on the last word.

  Brigid stood in front of Warren. “And would you? Would you recognize a lady?”

  “Of course,” he sniffed.

  “Wasn’t certain, as you apparently can’t act like a gentleman,” Brigid said. She slammed her fists on her hips. “Disrespecting my family proves you aren’t one.”

  Warren furrowed a brow in concentration, and Tessa knew he was working through how best to approach Brigid on this subject. With an eyebrow quirked, he put on what Warren considered his devilish smile and flashed it at Brigid. “Maybe I can rectify your poor opinion of me by taking you out to dinner.”

  Brigid guffawed. “You insult my family and then ask me on a date?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you’re the type of man I could find interesting.” Brigid turned to the others. “Are you ready to go?” Then to Tessa, she said, “Thank you for your kindness and your invitation. Sorry we can’t stay longer. We hope you’ll come to visit us at our home.” Tessa smiled when she emphasized the last words. Brigid shouldered Warren out of their way, assisted Margaret with helping Fiona navigate the stairs. The cut to Fiona’s forehead stopped bleeding, but the cloudiness hadn’t left her eyes. She also appeared miffed at accepting assistance but not willing to put up a fight.