The Stories We Tell by Liz Milliron

Author:Liz Milliron [Liz Milliron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Level Best Books
Published: 2021-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After I left the Manelowas’, I dropped a dime in the nearest pay phone and called home. Mary Kate answered. “Are Mom and Pop there?” I asked.

“They sure are. Pop just asked when you’d be here.”

“Tell ’em…” I cast about for an excuse. “Tell ’em I met some girls when I was out and we went for milkshakes. Please?”

“Usual price?” Mary Kate’s sweet tooth meant she’d do almost anything for a treat.

“Yep.”

“Deal.” Her smile wasn’t hard to imagine. “Should I tell ’em when you’ll be back?”

“No. I don’t think what I’m doing will take long, but I don’t wanna box myself in. You’re a peach, Mary Kate.” I hung up the phone. Bus or walk? I wasn’t far from the Witkops’ house. I could run there faster and it wasn’t too cold.

I practically flew down the streets, so I was outta breath once I got to the house. I took a few moments to compose myself. There was no use showing up all red faced, sweaty, and puffing like a steam engine. Definitely not a good look for a private detective. I went around to the back, straightened my hair, and rang the bell.

The cook answered. Recognizing me, she opened the door. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Leggett, right? I don’t know if you remember me—”

“Betty…I don’t remember your last name, but I know that’s your Christian name. What do you want?”

“Is Mildred…Miss Janson here? I need to talk to her.”

“No, she isn’t.” Mrs. Leggett started to close the door.

I put my hand on it to stop her. “Is she at home? Do you know where that is?”

“I do not.” She tried to close the door again.

Months of working at Bell had strengthened my arms. I held fast. “Did she say anything to you before she left today that might give me a clue? Please, it’s important.”

Mrs. Leggett huffed. “She said a lot of things before she left. I didn’t pay attention to her. How dare she treat this family like her personal bank? It’s wartime. Everybody is hard up, but that doesn’t give her the right to do what she did.”

What was she talkin’ about? In my surprise, I momentarily forgot to push against the door, and she shoved it forward. Before it shut, I stuck my foot out to stop her. The door squished it against the frame and I bit off a cuss word. Mrs. Leggett tried to slam it again, but this time I put my shoulder against the wood, which was much less painful and more effective. “I don’t understand. What did she do?” Then it dawned on me. The teacups, I thought. They found out.

Mr. Charles came to the door. “Mrs. Leggett! I can feel the draft all the way…what does she want?” He tilted his head toward me.

“She wants to talk to her,” Mrs. Leggett said in a dark, ominous tone.

“Look,” I said. These were honest hard-working folk who were obviously very loyal to their employers if they wouldn’t even refer to Mildred by name. Maybe if I appealed to their sense of justice.

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