The Enemy at Home

With her headlights on for the drive home, Nora found it easier to follow the Duesenberg this time around. Still, nervous and exhausted, she kept a white-knuckled grip on the wheel.

Chris was a few car lengths ahead of her, chauffeuring Mrs. Landauer, Sono and Ruth back to Mrs. Landauer’s house. Nora lagged behind to make sure they were okay. She was still concerned about Sono’s health. Even a mild case of food poisoning could have complications. And after all those clandestine deliveries Chris had made at night, wouldn’t it have been too ironic if the police stopped him on his very last trip—while he was transporting two Japanese-American fugitives? So far, the drive had been blessedly uneventful. But never one to “count her chickens,” Nora couldn’t relax—not yet. In a few minutes, they’d reach Mrs. Landauer’s front gate.

After all her talk about how much better off Sono and Ruth would be in an internment camp, Nora remembered reading that a prisoner at one of the camps had been shot dead during an escape attempt. She’d also heard that in the first weeks of the “relocation” program, some internees had died from malnutrition or medical emergencies the camps weren’t equipped to handle. She knew about the ramshackle housing and exposure to the elements. But in the past year, there had been major improvements—mostly made by the camps’ resourceful residents. At least, that had been the impression Nora had gotten from Miko’s letters. Either way, Nora couldn’t help second-guessing the ultimatum she’d practically forced onto Sono and her daughter. But one thing she was certain about: Chris couldn’t continue to be their lifeline in Mrs. Landauer’s unlawful scheme—even if it did make her son a hero to them.

Only a few hours ago, she’d wondered if Chris had taken off in Mrs. Landauer’s Duesenberg with the possible intention of murdering someone. Yet a part of her had always known he was no killer. Here, at last, she had an explanation for all of Chris’s lies and the disappearing at night.

Her son would never go back to that cabin on another secret mission.

After dowsing the fire in the fireplace, closing and locking all the windows, and shutting off the power and water, they’d locked up the cabin. Ruth had cried, but Sono had been stoic about leaving behind their home for the past several months. Then again, as Chris had escorted Sono to the Duesenberg, she’d probably been too tired to care about anything except getting some sleep.

Nora had promised she’d drive back to the cabin and collect anything Sono or her daughter might have forgotten. Before climbing into the Duesenberg, Chris had given her the keys to both the cabin and the front gate. With some help from Jane, Nora had locked the gate after following Chris off the property.

Now, forty minutes later, Nora turned onto a very familiar side street, and up ahead, she saw the tall, wrought iron gate to Mrs. Landauer’s mansion. She pulled over, while the Duesenberg stopped at the edge of the driveway. Chris hopped out of the driver’s seat and unlocked the gate. He waved at her and hurried toward the Packard. Nora rolled down her window.

“You don’t have to wait around for me, Mom,” he said. “I can walk home. I want to carry their bags up to their room. Plus Mrs. Landauer’s housekeeper, Kristina, is home, and we need to brace her for a couple of unexpected guests.”

“It’s okay, I’d rather wait and drive you back,” Nora said.

“Okay, well, you might as well follow us and wait in front of the house.” He started to move away from the window.

“Chris?” she asked.

He came closer to her window. “Yeah, Mom?”

“You know, all this time, you’ve been breaking the law and lying to me . . .”

“I know,” he mumbled, frowning.

“I don’t want you ever doing that again.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“But at the same time, I’m very proud of you. I just wanted to tell you that.”

He gazed at her and smiled.

For Nora, it was the strangest feeling, because, suddenly, Chris didn’t seem like a boy anymore. He was a young man.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, tapping the Packard’s hood. He hurried back to the other car.

Nora followed him down the long driveway. She pulled over in a turnaround while Chris helped Mrs. Landauer to the front door of the mansion. Nora watched Ruth help her mother inside. The curtains in the windows must have been drawn for the blackout, because the only light that came from within the huge, stately house was from the open front door.

For the last half hour, Jane, in the passenger seat, had dozed on and off. Now, she sat up, yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I’m really glad I packed early for the overnight tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes, and I’m sure your blue sweater should be dry by now,” Nora said—before her daughter could ask about it. “Listen, do you think you’re awake enough to remember something important I need to say to you?”

“I guess,” Jane said, pushing her hair back behind her shoulders.

“First, thank you for helping me through this ordeal tonight,” Nora said, patting her shoulder. “If you weren’t here keeping me company, helping me navigate, I’d have completely lost my mind.”

“Sure,” Jane said. “I’ll bet we used up almost a week’s worth of gas ration points tonight.”

Nora watched Chris take the suitcases from the Duesenberg’s trunk and carry them inside the mansion. “I’m not finished,” she said. “Second, you can’t tell a soul about any of this. I mean it, Jane. We could all be in serious trouble . . .”

Jane shrugged. “Okay.”

“Honey, I know you. And you’re probably thinking, I’ll just tell Doris. But you can’t. You can’t tell anyone what Chris did. Believe me, you won’t be too popular if it gets out that your brother helped hide some Japanese-Americans. I don’t want the house getting vandalized again. And I don’t want us getting into trouble with the law—or the federal government. This is a family secret. In fact, I’d rather you not write to your father about it. He’ll only get worried and distracted. Do we understand each other?”

Jane nodded. “I get it. Loose lips sink ships.”

“That’s right,” Nora said. “Thanks.”

She noticed Mrs. Landauer’s front door opening, and the foyer light spilled out again. She could see—in silhouette—Sono and Ruth taking turns hugging Chris goodbye.

He put Mrs. Landauer’s Duesenberg in her garage, closed and locked the big door, and then hurried toward Nora and Jane. Even though he walked at a brisk clip and it was dark out, Nora thought she saw tears in Chris’s eyes as he passed her window. He ducked in the Packard’s back seat. “Thanks for waiting for me,” he said in a low, shaky voice. He cleared his throat and said nothing.

Turning the car around, Nora cruised down the driveway and past the gate, where she stopped. Chris climbed out, shut and locked the gates, and got into the back seat again.

“I can’t believe this night,” Nora murmured, starting down the block. She realized she had to be up for work in four hours.

She was halfway down the block when she saw the police car parked in front of the house.

“Oh, my God, is this for us?” she blurted out. “Now what?”

Her first thought was that the police had caught on to Chris’s weekly trips, aiding and abetting two Japanese-Americans. Or were they convinced—as she’d almost been—that Chris was a murderer?

As she approached the driveway, Nora noticed Joe and a uniformed cop leaning against the side of the patrol car. The policeman was smoking a cigarette. He was about fifty and husky with a heavy five-o’clock shadow on his jowly face. He and Joe looked pretty chummy. Joe waved at her.

Nora stopped the car and watched Joe and the cop walk in front of her headlights. She rolled down her window. “What’s going on?” she asked anxiously.

“Someone broke into your house about an hour ago, Mrs. Kinney,” the policeman said.

She stared at him. “What?”

Joe leaned closer to the car window. “The block air raid warden, you know, the old guy who looks like Bert Lahr?”

“You mean Mr. Weiss?” Nora nodded. “Yes . . .”

“He was on his rounds and saw a light on in the house. So, he knocked on the front door. When nobody answered, he came and knocked on my door. Then he took me around to the front of the house to show me the light—and that’s when we heard the back door slam. We caught only a glimpse of the guy. He seemed to be carrying something. He ran into the ravine. Mr. Weiss had his flashlight, but we lost the guy. He was too fast for us. Anyway, I called the police. This is Officer Stoewer.”

The cop nodded cordially at her. “Ma’am.”

“Mr. Weiss gave a statement and went home,” Joe said. “If you’d gotten here ten minutes ago, you would have caught him.”

“What was stolen?” Nora asked numbly. “Do you have any idea?”

“That’s why we’re waiting for you,” Officer Stoewer explained. “Maybe you can take a look around the house to see if anything is missing or damaged. And I’ll make a report . . .”

* * *

While pulling into the driveway and parking the car, Nora tried to pacify Jane, who was convinced the strangler had paid a visit to their house tonight.

Of course, Nora was thinking the same thing—not that she’d share it with her daughter.

But now that she knew how wrong she’d been to suspect Chris, the only connection she had to the killer was that she’d known Connie—and that her stockings and lipstick had mysteriously disappeared.

Had the strangler meant for her to be his victim tonight?

He probably knew her—if he’d been watching Connie before he murdered her, he would have figured out who Connie’s riveter friends were.

She couldn’t think about that now. She was too tired, scared and confused.

And she didn’t want to think about Joe—if that was even his real name. She saw him through the car window, standing there with the cop. He’d lied to her about being married—and God only knew what else. She couldn’t trust him. And yet he’d been the one to call the police and chase down tonight’s intruder.

As Nora climbed out of the Packard with Chris and Jane, Officer Stoewer approached her. “By the way, Joe and I were wondering where you folks were until this hour.”

“We . . . we went to the movies, a double feature,” Nora answered lamely. It was the first thing she could think of.

“Until midnight?” the cop asked as they headed for the back door. “Don’t your kids have school in the morning?”

“We stayed to watch the newsreel again,” Chris piped up. “They showed some of the army medical facilities for the North Africa campaign, and when we saw it the first time, we thought we spotted my dad up on the screen. That’s why we stayed so late.”

“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t him,” Nora said, going along with the lie. “But the kids disagree with me.” She couldn’t help being impressed at how quickly Chris invented the fabrication. Small wonder he’d been able to deceive her for the past several months.

Pausing on the steps up to the back door, she turned to Joe. “Thanks so much for looking out for us, Joe,” she said coolly. “We’ve imposed on you enough. You can go on back to your apartment now. I’m sure Officer Stoewer can handle it from here, can’t you?” She smiled at the cop.

“Yeah,” the policeman agreed. “I’ll swing by if I have any more questions. Thanks a lot, Joe. Nice meeting you.”

Joe seemed a bit blindsided to be dismissed. He gave Nora a tentative smile. “Well, I’m just over the garage if you need me. Good night, everybody.”

The kids called good night to him, and he gave a shy little wave as he turned and walked toward the entrance to the garage apartment.

Nora showed Officer Stoewer into the house. They led the way while Chris and Jane lagged behind. The officer noted there was no sign of forced entry and asked if they’d locked the doors before heading off to the double feature.

Nora said she thought she had but couldn’t be absolutely sure. That much was true.

Officer Stoewer and she checked the dining room first. Her silver service and candlesticks were still on the side table. All the crystal and china were there in the breakfront. Nothing was missing or out of place in the living room either.

Jane was certain the strangler had targeted her bedroom, but everything was just as she’d left it. It was the same way in every room and closet. Nothing had been disturbed.

When they reached Nora’s bedroom, Officer Stoewer asked Nora to make extra sure none of her jewelry was missing. As she stood in front of her dresser, checking the jewelry box, she had to tell the cop what was on her mind. With her back to him, she gazed at his reflection in her mirror. “I know this is going to sound paranoid—and just like my daughter—but two weeks ago, I had a tube of lipstick, a pair of new nylons and another pair of old ones in this dresser. Then, the other day I noticed they were gone.” She turned around to face him. “I know that the victims in the last two Rosie killings were each strangled with a nylon stocking. And the killer smeared lipstick on their mouths . . .”

“How did you find out about the lipstick?” Stoewer asked. “That part wasn’t in the newspapers.”

“I heard about it from one of the women at the Boeing plant where I work,” Nora lied. “My point is, do you think it’s possible tonight’s intruder might have been in here before—and stolen those items out of this dresser?”

Officer Stoewer started to shake his head. “Mrs. Kinney—”

“The stockings were beige, Royal Purple brand,” she interrupted. For the last two days, she’d been so afraid the police might connect the stockings and lipstick to her. But now, she needed them to know. “The lipstick shade was Scarlet Kiss by Dorothy Gray. Aren’t you going to write that down?”

“Sure,” he replied, taking out his notepad. But even as he jotted down the information, it seemed to Nora like he was simply appeasing her. “How old is your daughter, Mrs. Kinney?” he asked, not looking up from his writing. “Thirteen . . . fourteen?”

“Twelve. Why do you ask?”

“Because I have three daughters, and I can tell you, when they were young teenagers, all three went through their mom’s dresser, borrowing her jewelry, perfume, lipstick, stockings, you name it . . .”

“I already asked Jane,” Nora said. “And she didn’t take my lipstick or my stockings.”

“Jane has friends over, doesn’t she? This room is between Jane’s bedroom and the bathroom. Without Jane knowing, any one of her friends could have come in here at any time and absconded with your nylons and your lipstick. As I’m sure you know, both are in short supply right now . . .”

Nora had originally suspected Jane had taken the stockings for a nylon scrap drive. Used lipstick dispensers were in high demand, too, for the metal. Jane’s friends were just as involved in those scrap drives as Jane was. Or perhaps one of Jane’s friends simply wanted to look pretty, and she couldn’t resist raiding Jane’s mother’s dresser. What Officer Stoewer said made sense.

But Nora didn’t feel any better. And why should she? Some stranger had been inside her home tonight, going through her family’s things.

Nora and Officer Stoewer finished searching the house and ended up in the front hallway. Jane was still checking every nook and cranny in her room, and Chris was in the upstairs bathroom.

“I’ll bet your air raid warden scared the intruder away before he could grab anything,” Stoewer concluded. “Everybody’s on edge—what with a killer on the loose, going after gals who work on the assembly lines. Joe told me that you knew one of the victims. So, it’s hard not to jump to conclusions about this break-in tonight. But we’ve had a lot of burglaries recently, Mrs. Kinney. The blackouts aren’t helping. And these blue star flags in the windows make it pretty easy for crooks to figure out which houses don’t have a man around. I think your best defense is making sure all your doors and windows are locked.”

Nora nodded and opened the door for him. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

“Give us a call if you find anything is missing, and I’ll add it to my report,” he said.

“I will, thank you,” she answered, standing by the door. “And will you please pass along that information about my missing stockings and lipstick to the detectives investigating the strangulations? Just in case . . .”

“Of course,” Officer Stower said, heading outside.

She knew he probably wouldn’t. But Nora thanked him anyway.

She watched the officer walk toward his patrol car. Then Nora closed the front door and locked it. When she turned around, she saw Chris coming down the stairs.

“Nothing’s missing?” he asked.

Nora shook her head. “Not that we could tell.”

Chris leaned against the newel post at the bottom step. “Are you scared?”

“I’m exhausted mostly,” Nora admitted. “On the plus side, I think we’re okay for now. This burglar isn’t about to strike twice on the same night. I think everything’s all locked up . . .”

She and Stoewer had checked all the first-floor windows to make sure they were closed and secured. She glanced toward the family room, where they’d left the light on. She noticed the binoculars on the shelf. She turned to Chris. “Before I forget, the night before I started working at Boeing, you said you’d snuck out to go watch the battleships at Elliott Bay. Were you actually making one of your deliveries to Sono and her daughter?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry I lied.”

“But you were telling the truth about the night Connie was killed . . .”

He nodded again. “Yeah, I stopped following her and Roger around when they came out of a restaurant in Queen Anne. I thought they’d spotted me. Like I told you, I ended up going to a park nearby for about an hour before heading home.”

It dawned on Nora that Connie’s killer could have spotted Chris, too. “And you didn’t notice anyone suspicious?” she pressed.

“No, nothing,” he answered. “Like I told you, Mom, I’d have said something to you and the police if I had, I swear.”

“What about Sunday?” she asked. “Mrs. Landauer said you went to the cabin to make another delivery. But that was in the middle of the day.”

“I made an occasional run out there during the day,” he admitted. “On Sunday, I told Mrs. Landauer that I had to cool it with the nighttime trips because you were catching on. So, we went out there in the afternoon.”

“And yet you lied to me about it—even when you knew I had these horrible notions about what you might be doing. Why, Chris?”

He picked at the newel post’s molding. “I didn’t want you to get involved, Mom,” he said quietly. “I was trying to help Sono and Ruth, and I knew once you discovered what I was doing, you’d have to end it—like you did tonight. I’m not sore at you or anything. You’re only watching out for me. I just didn’t want to be the one to let them down. At the same time, I’m sort of glad it turned out the way it did tonight.”

“So that was the big secret you were holding inside,” Nora said, remembering her conversation with Ray the night before he’d left.

“What?” Chris asked.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. She let out a sigh and held out her arms. “Just come here . . .”

Chris hugged her. For a few moments, they held each other and said nothing.

Nora still thought that Chris’s efforts to help Mrs. Landauer in her misguided plan had been a foolhardy thing for him to do. But what he’d done was also brave, noble and kind.

Nora finally and gently pulled back. “Well, I’m starving,” she said, a little quiver in her voice. “I didn’t have any dinner. I’m going to make myself a sandwich before I go to bed. Can I make something for you?”

“I’m fine, thanks, Mom. Jane cooked spaghetti tonight.”

“So I heard,” she replied. Nora reached up and straightened Chris’s unruly hair. Then she remembered earlier tonight, realizing he was no longer her little boy.

She stopped fussing with his hair, worked up a smile and patted his arm. “Come and sit with me in the kitchen for a few minutes, will you? I need to talk to you about Joe . . .”

* * *

“I thought he might be an undercover cop, trying to keep tabs on you because the police had questioned you about that break-in near your school . . .”

“Mom, the police talked to me that day for only a minute,” Chris whispered. He sat next to her at the breakfast table, sipping a Coke.

Nora ate cold, leftover spaghetti, which was surprisingly tasty. Then again, she was so hungry, anything would have been delicious. They kept their voices down because Jane had gone to bed about ten minutes ago.

“I figured the police had you under surveillance or something,” Nora pointed out. Up until a few hours ago, she’d assumed that since she suspected the worst with Chris, so did the police. “I keep coming back to the notion that Joe might be a cop,” Nora went on. “Maybe because he told that woman he’d paid to be his phony wife that he was working undercover. Plus, when we first pulled up in front of the house tonight, Joe looked pretty friendly with that policeman—like they were colleagues. But I don’t know anymore. Everything he’s told us has probably been a lie.”

Chris shrugged. “Mom, have you ever stopped to think that maybe he pretended to be married so he could get the apartment? I mean, you told him you’d made it a requirement. The housing shortage is really bad. He was probably desperate. Maybe he figured he could keep up the charade for a while until we got to like him, and then he would tell us the truth.”

“Then why did he try to follow Jane and me when we set out to tail you earlier tonight?” Nora argued. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “He must not be a very good detective, because I lost him pretty easily—after one block. It didn’t take much. All I had to do was pull into a driveway, and—”

Nora fell silent at the sound of light tapping on the kitchen door. She froze and gazed wide-eyed at Chris.

Getting to his feet, Chris cautiously moved to the door and moved aside the blackout curtain. He turned to her. “It’s Joe,” he said under his breath.

Nora stood up, stepped over to the door and unlocked it. Chris remained by her side as she opened the door. At this point, she was too exhausted and unnerved to even work up a smile for the guy calling himself Joe Strauss.

“Hi,” he said, standing on the back stoop with what looked like a lunch bag in his hand. “Sorry to swing by this late, but I figured you were still up. I saw a sliver of light behind the blackout curtain and thought I heard someone talking in here . . .”

Nora wondered if he’d actually heard what they’d said.

“What’s going on, Joe?” she asked.

“Well, considering what happened tonight, I thought maybe you’d feel better if you had this nearby—in your nightstand drawer or someplace.” He held out the bag for her. “There’s a revolver in here. Be careful. It’s loaded.”

Hesitating, Nora stared at the paper bag—and then at him.

He pulled the bag closer to his chest. “Then again, maybe you’re not comfortable with a gun in the house. I only thought—”

“No,” Chris interrupted, reaching for the paper sack. “I think it’s a really good idea. Thanks.”

“Well, Chris, it’s not for you,” Joe said. “It’s for your mom.”

Nora took the bag from Chris. “Yes, and it’s a good idea. Chris is right.” She nodded at Joe and worked up a smile. “I’ll rest easier if I have this for the next night or two. Thank you, Joe.”

“You’re welcome. And listen, I’ll be up for the next few hours, so—like I said earlier—I’m just above the garage if you need me.”

“It’s comforting to know that,” she lied.

“Well, good night,” he said.

“Good night, Joe,” she replied.

“Night, Joe!” Chris called.

Nora watched him head back toward the garage. Then Chris closed the kitchen door and locked it.

Sitting down at the table, Nora peeked into the paper sack at the revolver.

“Well, what do you think about that?” Chris asked, peering over her shoulder. “Maybe he is a cop—like you say. Or maybe just a really nice guy.”

“I keep thinking how there isn’t much foot traffic on this street—or traffic of any kind,” Nora said. “We’re pretty secluded here. And yet three hours after we put up the APARTMENT FOR RENT sign, he was knocking on our front door.”

Nora glanced down at the gun again. “He’d been watching our house, Chris,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”