Lady Codebreaker by K.D. Alden

Author:K.D. Alden [ALDEN, K.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2024-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

Robert forked some of Mrs. Hastings’s liver and onions into his mouth while Grace tried not to gag at the smell. She nibbled a cheese-and-tomato sandwich instead.

“How can it be?” Grace queried. “The last I heard of Otto Schroeder, he was locked up for life at Leavenworth! How is it possible that he’s now not only free but also engaged in smuggling?”

Robert swallowed his bite of her least favorite dish with relish. “Well, my dear, Coolidge pardoned him in 1923. For some sort of heroic act—I seem to remember an explosion in a boiler room at the prison? And at great personal risk, Schroeder went in and prevented it from taking out half the premises. At any rate, he was thanked kindly and deported to Berlin.”

“Thanked?” Grace repeated scathingly. “Did Coolidge not remember that he was a murderer, a saboteur, a spy operating in Mexico against the US?”

“Who knows? Well, Schroeder seems to have liked Mexico,” mused Bobby. “And now he’s back down south in—where did you say?”

“He was in Belize for a bit. Now Havana, where Spanish Marie runs her operation. It’s an outrage,” said Grace.

“Well, darling, how else would a murderer, saboteur and spy improve his curriculum vitae? Add smuggler to his list of accomplishments.”

“It’s not funny, Bobby.”

“He probably makes a lot of lettuce. Piles more than yours truly. There’s an interesting spice to this dish, darling… is it paprika?”

“What?”

“Paprika, dear?”

Grace stared blankly at his plate of food. “Oh. Yes. Yes, it is.”

“I thought so.”

“Enjoy. So I’d like to go to San Francisco to consult with a few field offices in the Ezra brothers case. I rather thought I’d fly—so much faster than taking the train.”

Her husband set down his fork. “Grace. You’re not flying to California in a tin can with wings. It’s too dangerous.”

She mustered a sweet smile. “You really should compliment my cooking—butter me up, you know—before you order me not to do something.”

“I’d gladly give you a compliment if it were your cooking, my dear, but I have a strong suspicion that this dish came from either Mrs. Hastings or Mrs. Mauborgne. These are Spanish yellow onions and they’re sliced finely, so my money’s on Mrs. H.”

“What a dastardly accusation.” Grace took a bite of her sandwich, clamping down on the bread to keep the tomato slices from escaping. They were as slippery as her white lies.

“Indeed. You’ll have to excuse my paranoia. It comes with the government job. But isn’t that her blue-flowered casserole dish hidden behind the toaster? And as much as I love and admire you, my dear, you don’t know paprika from papyrus.”

Grace frowned as she chewed. “You have all the makings of a great spy yourself, Bobby.” What she didn’t tell him was that she’d started paying the good ladies of the neighborhood to cook for them. Besides the obvious benefit to her, it was a way to save face on her husband’s behalf—making the point that he could support her, and that her job was a choice.

Over obligatory

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