Chapter 7

Ediz Hook wrapped around the Port Angeles harbor like a protective arm. Daniel strolled the rocky strip of land, the soft spring sunshine warming his shoulders even as the gusty wind off the Strait tugged at his sleeves. The breeze couldn’t budge his dark mood, his thoughts consumed by the image of a beautiful young woman and the vain peacock in the pinstriped suit who’d wasted no time cozying up to her. Daniel lifted his collar, leaning into the wind. He had no claim on Laurie’s attentions and she’d made it perfectly clear that she had zero interest in his.

Scooping up a smooth stone, he cocked his arm and sent it skimming across the surface of the waves. God, give me wisdom. Show me what to do. He stared past the water to the hazy shore of Canada less than twenty miles away. As a boy, he’d chucked many a rock as hard as he could with the fantasy of hitting the distant beach.

During the night he’d woken with Miss Burke’s words running through his mind. “Does your grandfather know what you are?” Daniel shivered as the breeze whipped the perspiration from his face. If Granddad knew, he’d never have asked him to work at the pharmacy. And inherit the place? Not a chance.

He scooped up a handful of pebbles and tossed them, one by one, into the water. Pastor Yoder said God casts sins into the depths of the sea. So why do they still haunt me? Daniel hurled the last pebble as hard as he could. It splashed into the harbor, sinking beneath the waves.

Daniel buttoned his coat and continued down the path, gulls spinning lazy circles over his head. He adjusted his hat to block the sun’s glare. He needed to confront Laurie Burke and find out what exactly she knew.

Daniel reached the far end of the spit where the lighthouse warned boats of the nearby rocks. He sat down on a bench and stared out over the foaming surf. Looking into the deep blue of Laurie Burke’s eyes could mean risking some equally dangerous waters.

The silvery-haired widow drummed her fingernails against the marble counter, the lines on her brow deepening with each passing minute.

Many charms, indeed. Daniel counted to ten. “Mrs. McAllister, I’ve wrapped up your rheumatism pills just the way you requested. Is there something else?”

She peered over the rims of her tiny gold-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Larson always fills my prescriptions. He understands how I like things. Perhaps he should check before I take them home.”

Daniel slid the packet across the counter. “Granddad is out of the store today. He’s going to be taking Mondays off. If you’d like, I could hold your prescription and have him inspect it in the morning.”

She huffed. “I always pick my pills up on Monday afternoons. How could he be so insensitive as to leave a youngster like you in charge on the day he knows I’m coming?

Daniel straightened to his full six-foot height. At twenty-six, he could hardly be called a youngster. “Mrs. McAllister, Granddad left detailed instructions about your pills.” Not that I needed them. “I followed them to the letter. He even wrote that you liked your strawberry soda topped with fresh strawberry ice cream, not vanilla.” He pressed both palms against the marble countertop.

Mrs. McAllister fiddled with the clasp on her purse. “Well, we’ll see if you get that right, now, won’t we?”

Daniel sighed as he followed the gray-haired matron to the soda fountain. It had been a slow day, but a few people sat at the counter enjoying their drinks. A cherub-faced little girl bounced on one of the stools while her mother steadied it with a free hand.

As Daniel mixed Mrs. McAllister’s strawberry soda, the bell over the door jingled. He opened the door to the icebox and retrieved a scoop of ice cream before glancing toward the front.

Daniel saw a tall man looming in the doorway, decked out in a charcoal-gray suit and matching fedora.

Daniel swallowed, a sour taste springing to his tongue. The man didn’t look so much like a choirboy without a hymnbook in his hand.

Daniel finished preparing the soda and wiped the edge of the glass with a napkin before plunking it on the counter in front of Mrs. McAllister. “Your soda, ma’am. I hope you enjoy it.”

He didn’t bother plastering the usual greet-the-customer smile on his face as he stepped out from behind the fountain. “Can I be of some assistance?” Daniel held out his hand, still chilled from the freezer.

The man returned the handshake, his eyes flickering at the icy touch. He released his grip and rubbed his palms together, a gold ring glinting on his pinky finger. “Shepherd, isn’t it?”

A prickle wandered across the back of Daniel’s neck. “Have we been introduced?”

The corners of the man’s lips twisted upward in a half-smile. “Not exactly. I am Agent Samuel Brown, a Prohibition officer with the U.S. Treasury Department.” His gaze wandered the store. “I’d like to speak to the owner. That would be your grandfather, correct?”

Daniel’s throat clenched. A revenuer? “Yes. Miles Larson. I’m afraid he’s not in on Mondays. Would you like to make an appointment to see him or is there anything I can do for you?”

The bell jingled again as a freckle-faced teenager scurried in, out of breath. “I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Shepherd. My teacher kept me after class. It won’t happen again, sir.”

Daniel nodded. “That’s fine, Marcie. School is important.”

Marcie raised her fingers to her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting.” She fled from the two men and ducked behind the fountain counter, reaching for an apron.

Daniel turned back to Mr. Brown. “As I was saying—”

“Just how many kids do you have working here, Mr. Shepherd?” Brown’s eyes narrowed as he withdrew a notepad from an inner pocket of his suit coat.

“Marcie is the first. Business has picked up since we added the fountain. We may hire another in a few weeks. My grandfather has enough work to do just keeping up with the pharmacy without scooping ice cream, too.”

Mr. Brown took off his hat and held it to his chest. “Do employees have access to the alcohol that you keep on site?”

Daniel folded both arms across his chest. “Suppose you tell me what your business is here, Mr. Brown, and perhaps I should ask to see your identification as well.”

Samuel Brown drew out a gold US Prohibition Service badge. He raised his voice, its sound carrying across the small store. “I understand this pharmacy was issued a license to dispense alcohol via prescription. I need to examine your stock and your storage methods.”

Several of the customers turned in their seats, eyes wide.

“When did the Bureau of Prohibition begin to care about small family drugstores? Of course, I’d be more than happy to show you our supplies, if it would make you feel better.” Striding to the rear of the store, Daniel opened the storage room and switched on the lights. He drew a key from the breast pocket of his lab coat and unlocked the low cabinet that housed the spirits.

Samuel Brown crouched, examining the bottles. “Is this all of it?”

“That’s everything we have in at the moment. We never keep large amounts—just what we need to fill prescriptions and mix tonics.”

Mr. Brown balanced on his heels, one eyebrow raised. “Tonics?”

“You want to see our permits?”

Mr. Brown stood, brushing off his pant legs. “No, that’s not necessary. I just needed to observe that your alcohol was properly secure and that you are ordering from legal suppliers, which is evident from the seals on your bottles.”

Daniel stepped to the side to let the agent pass before he locked the cabinets. Something about Samuel Brown made Daniel’s skin crawl.

Brown shoved his fedora back along the crown of his head. “Inform your grandfather we’ll be doing routine inspections.” He raised his chin and offered Daniel a tight-lipped smile. “And make sure none of your soda jerks has access to those cabinets. Drinking is a big problem with the young people these days. I’d hate to see them pilfering away your profits.”

Daniel, gritting his teeth, escorted Mr. Brown to the door only to have it swing open with a merry jingle.

Laurie Burke hovered on the threshold, her blue cup-shaped hat framing a pale owl-like face. Her gaze flicked from the soda fountain to the pharmacy counter.

Samuel Brown stepped forward with a wide smile. “Miss Burke, what a pleasure to see you again.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Mr. Brown, I’m surprised to see you. I was just coming in to . . . ” Miss Burke’s gaze skirted the room a second time.

Daniel stepped close. “For those headache powders?”

Her face brightened. “Yes, that’s right—headache powders.” She followed Daniel to the pharmacy counter, casting furtive glances at the agent as she slipped off her gloves and tucked them into her purse.

Mr. Brown trailed behind. “I hope everything is all right.”

Her lips parted as she sucked in a quick breath. “Yes, fine. I’ve just been struggling with some headaches the past few days. I haven’t been sleeping well, I’m afraid.”

Daniel laid several containers out on the back counter. I’d bet my last dollar that she came here for another bottle of whiskey. Even so, Daniel felt no compulsion to share her secret with the likes of Samuel Brown. He measured the ingredients into a granite mortar.

Brown, leaning against the counter, tipped his hat back. “While you’re waiting, Miss Burke, perhaps you would allow me to buy you a soda?”

Her hand gripped the edges of her coat. “I suppose . . . yes, that would be nice, Mr. Brown. Thank you.” She leaned across the counter. “I’ll be back for those powders later, Mr. Shepherd.”

Daniel reached for the pestle, his shoulders tightening. “They’ll be waiting.” He brought the tool down with more force than necessary, missing his thumb by only a fraction of an inch.

A woman rumrunner and a rude Prohibition agent—a match made in heaven.

Laurie settled herself on the padded stool, conscious of Mr. Brown lurking only a step behind. She’d promised Johnny to stay clear of him, but when it was a choice between Daniel Shepherd and Samuel Brown, she figured spending time with the federal agent would be the wiser decision.

Mr. Brown perched on his stool and leaned toward her, as if sharing a secret. “I quite enjoyed singing with you in church yesterday. You have a lovely voice.”

Laurie smiled. “Thank you. But I’m afraid you must have been hearing Amelia. Out of mercy for those sitting around me, I try to limit my volume. Singing is not one of my talents.”

He cocked his head. “Perhaps I was mistaken. Well, then—I look forward to learning your many other talents.”

Laurie turned to examine the menu hanging above the counter.

“So if music isn’t your passion, what do you enjoy, Miss Burke?”

She studied the swirls of color in the marble counter. “I like to draw, but I’m not sure I would say I’m talented.” She glanced at him, noting the firm line of his jaw, a tiny cleft in the center of his chin. His face would be a joy to sketch—much easier than the shadowy image of Mr. Shepherd she had just completed.

“Oh?” His eyebrows rose. “What types of things do you draw?”

“Nature scenes, mostly. The water, the mountains, wildlife . . . that sort of thing. And sometimes people, too. I rarely show them to anyone, however.”

He smiled. “I’d love to see them, someday. If you would consider me one of those rare ‘anybodies’ that you speak of. I’m quite partial to nature scenes. It’s one of the reasons I took this assignment. I wanted to see the mountains I’d read so much about.”

“The Olympics are breathtaking. You should hike up to Hurricane Ridge. There’s no place in the world more beautiful.” She fought to keep the wistful tone out of her voice. Years had passed since she’d walked those trails.

“Port Angeles does seem to have more than its share of beauty.” His gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe you could show me some of its lovelier spots.”

Laurie’s mouth went dry, but thankfully, Marcie Connor arrived to take their order. “Marcie, when did you start working here? Your sister didn’t say anything about you taking a job.”

The girl grinned, revealing a mouthful of crooked teeth. “I just started two days ago. Anne-Marie is green with envy. She even talked about quitting the exchange to work here.” She cupped a hand around her lips, dropping her voice to a loud whisper. “She thinks Mr. Larson’s grandson is the bee’s knees, if you know what I mean.”

Laurie smiled. “I’m not sure I do know.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Mr. Shepherd still worked at the pharmacy counter, his back to them. “But, Anne-Marie always understood these things better than me.”

Mr. Brown cleared his throat. “I believe I’d like a root beer float. How does that sound to you, Miss Burke?”

Laurie kept her expression neutral. “Root beer sounds fine, but I’d prefer a chocolate egg cream.”

“A woman who knows her own mind. I like that.” Mr. Brown smiled.

Laurie noticed Marcie staring at her companion with round eyes, a touch of pink showing beneath her freckles. “Marcie, have you met Mr. Samuel Brown?”

Marcie shook her head, her dark curls bouncing. She wiped her hand on her apron and held it out.

As Mr. Brown shook the girl’s hand, Laurie continued. “Mr. Brown, may I introduce Marcie Connor? I work with Marcie’s sister at the telephone exchange.”

When the agent released her hand, Marcie scurried off to fill their order, her fingers fluttering to her chest. Laurie smiled. One would think the girl had never seen a handsome man before. Of course, had her reaction at church been any different?

Mr. Brown swiveled toward her again, his knee brushing hers. Laurie pulled her legs back and crossed them on the far side of the stool.

He gazed at her without saying a word, making Laurie feel like an insect under a microscope. “You work at the exchange?”

“Yes.” Laurie dug a handkerchief from her purse, overcome by a sudden need to have something in her hands.

“That must be interesting work.” He rested his chin on his hand.

“Not really. You sit on a stool, flip switches, and move cords from one hole to another.”

He laughed, sitting back and running a hand through his blond hair. “Well, if you put it that way. But I’ve always heard that the operators in these small towns know everybody and everybody’s business.”

She glanced over her shoulder, distracted by the banging of the mortar. How much grinding did headache powders need? “Not really. We’re not allowed to listen in, you know. But I do know certain folks’ habits pretty well.”

“Like what?”

Laurie folded the handkerchief into a neat square. “I know Mrs. Simon plays cards at Mrs. Grant’s house most days after lunch. So, if her son calls during that time, I’ll ring her there. And Mr. Johansson has been helping his neighbor with some automobile repairs, so if I don’t find him at home, I might check next door. ”

He chuckled as Marcie arrived with the drinks. “There you go—knowing folks’ business. That’s not a bad thing, now, is it?”

Laurie pulled her soda close and picked up a long spoon. “No. I just don’t like the thought that we’re collecting gossip or any such nonsense.”

“Of course. Gossiping would be rude, but what if you overheard information that someone was in trouble?”

Laurie frowned. “What sort of trouble?”

“Let’s say an emergency or . . . ” he paused, “or a matter for the police, perhaps?”

“I suppose we would contact the authorities. We called the hospital for old Mrs. Jenkins last year when she was feeling ill.” Laurie rolled the straw between her fingers.

“What about something illegal?”

Laurie dropped her hand back to her lap. “If someone asked, I could connect them to the police department.”

Mr. Brown pushed his drink back. “Let me lay it on the table for you, Miss Burke. What if you overheard someone discussing illegal behavior? Would you contact the police?”

The sweet drink turned sour in Laurie’s mouth. “Mr. Brown, as I said, we do not listen in on conversations. I don’t see any way that I would ‘overhear’ something like that.”

His green eyes darkened, like dusk creeping over the forest. “I informed you and Miss White that I was in town on business, seeking information on possible rumrunning operations. I hope you are aware that if you have knowledge of such illegal activities, you’re obligated to share that with me or you could be considered guilty of aiding the criminals.”

Laurie’s heart jumped into her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.” She pushed the drink away and slid off of the stool. “And I don’t think I will be of any use to you, sir.”

Mr. Shepherd appeared at her side with a small bag. “Your headache powders, Miss Burke.” He stepped in front of Mr. Brown and lowered his voice. “I thought you might want them sooner, rather than later.”

“That’s very kind.” Laurie swallowed hard, gazing up into Mr. Shepherd’s gray eyes. “What do I owe you?”

“This one’s on me.”

Mr. Brown appeared at the pharmacist’s side, his fingers curling into a fist as he glared at the man.

Anxious to be away from both of them, she nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Shepherd. I’m grateful. And thank you for the soda, Mr. Brown.”

The agent slipped on his hat and tipped it to her. “I hope we can do it again sometime, Miss Burke. I’d like to talk to you more.”

She clenched the paper bag in her fingers. I bet you do.