Oliver Fip was already in the café, sipping a coffee and looking slightly less miserable. His nose was still red and his eyes droopy, but he sat up straight and hadn’t sneezed or coughed in the two minutes it took for her to sit down next to him.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said down into his cup.
“What a coincidence,” said Stella and she extended her hand.
He kissed and stroked it like a lover while she did her best not to snarl at him. He was being so terribly French. More than French actually. He was being what other countries thought the French behaved like.
“I’ve missed you,” he said as the same waitress came up and told Stella about the special, a potato soup.
She ordered it and a coffee, hoping that it would be better than the last time. “We just saw each other.”
“It’s been too long,” said Oliver with feeling and his pale blue eyes lighting up with amusement.
“You’re feeling better, I see.”
“I am. It was touch and go there for a while. I had a high fever.”
“You deserve it for pestering me.”
“I prefer protecting you,” he said.
“Prefer all you want. Let’s get this done.”
He speared a sausage off his plate and grease spurted out to his satisfaction. “Does that mean you’re done?”
“I think so.”
“Think?”
Stella told him succinctly what she knew and made a good case for both men being what was suspected of them, including her strong suspicions that the baron was unstable and shouldn’t be called on to join the network.
“That’s all circumstantial.”
“You wanted me to get it in writing or ask them? Oh, by the way, Mr. Bikker, are you working for the Germans? I noticed you were lying about skiing in Bavaria. Oh, Baron, I think you’re crazy. Can you confirm? How would that go over?”
“I see your point,” he said. “Bikker will have to be watched.”
“Sounds like a job for you.”
He chuckled. “And I would do it well, but you think he will self-destruct before long?”
“The designer said they throw the suspected German spies into the canals. Bikker was not subtle in the least and they will be moving in any day now.”
“Yes, and I think finally perhaps the people know it.” He glanced around the café at the other patrons that were either reading papers or were in agitated conversations. Oliver was right. There wasn’t any laughter or smiles anymore. Their faces were different. The set of their shoulders tense. What must it be like to know your country would be invaded and there was nothing you could do about it? She couldn’t imagine thinking someone would invade Missouri or the United States. Her mother was safe. Millicent and Myrtle safe. There was so much comfort in that.
“They do,” she said. “But they won’t talk openly of it.”
“What about last night?”
“Some discussed it, but mostly you would’ve thought all was right with the world.”
“Self-indulgent fools,” said Oliver.
“One last night of pleasure. I don’t begrudge them that.”
“They should be preparing.”
“We are doing that,” she said.
“Not we. You are gone.”
The waitress brought the soup and coffee and to Stella’s relief, both were good. She ate quickly and kept an eye on the clock.
“Going somewhere?” Oliver asked.
“To pack.”
Oliver visibly relaxed and the tension he held in his angular face eased.
“You are ready to go then? No last private mission to keep you?”
“Nothing could keep me here,” said Stella.
“I don’t think today is a good day.” Rena stood at the front door of Elizabeth Keesing’s house and refused to budge.
“Don’t worry. I won’t stay long,” said Stella. “I only want to say goodbye and tell her something.”
“I will tell her,” said Rena. “What is it?”
A strange feeling grew in Stella’s chest, a nervous, worried feeling. She hadn’t had that in a long time. “It’s about the children, Ezra and Lonia.”
“Good. Poor little things. We will help them. Tell me what you want or come back tomorrow.”
“I’m leaving tonight.”
The maid nodded furiously. “Good. Good. You go.”
“Did something happen?” Stella asked.
“No, no. Nothing happens here.” Rena tried to close the door and Stella slapped her hand against the wood.
“What is it?”
“Noth—”
“Rena!” called out Elizabeth. “Who is it?”
“No one!”
Stella went up on her tiptoes and called over Rena’s head. “It’s me! Micheline!”
“Let her in, Rena,” said Elizabeth. “What are you—”
There was a muffled thump and Rena let out a screech as she spun around. The door flew open and Stella dashed in. Rena scrambled up the stairs to Elizabeth, who was halfway down, sitting in a heap and clinging to a spindle.
“I’m all right,” said Elizabeth.
Stella closed the door and ran up the stairs behind Rena. “What happened?”
“All these people bothering her. She needs to rest.”
“I need to be informed.” Elizabeth sounded dignified, but she was the least dignified that Stella had ever seen her. She wore a nightgown that was slipping off her bony, emaciated shoulder, no socks or slippers, and her long hair was tangled and loose down to her waist.
“You have to stay in bed,” said Rena.
“Says who?”
“The doctors. All of them.”
“I hate being in bed. Why is that better than my chair by the stove? Answer me that,” demanded Elizabeth.
“For one thing,” said Stella, “you have to get there. Let’s get you back into bed.”
Elizabeth demanded to be taken downstairs. Stella would’ve ordinarily obeyed her, but in her current state, she felt justified in taking her back upstairs. They were able to carry her back upstairs without any help and got her into bed in a charming room with lilac wallpaper and a cheery fire in the grate.
“I don’t know why you don’t want to be in here,” said Stella. “It’s lovely and so warm.”
“I can’t see the garden and the tulips will fade soon.”
Rena grabbed Stella’s arm. “Thank you for your help. Go now.”
“Rena, what in the world?” She reached out for Stella and took her hand. “I’m glad you’re here. I was considering sending a message to the hotel or calling, but I wasn’t sure if I should. Anyone could read it or listen in. You know how nosy operators are.”
“I can tell her,” said Rena, still tugging on Stella’s arm. “You’ve got to sleep like the doctor said.”
Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap and said, “I will stay in bed if you stop fussing and make some tea.”
Rena didn’t like it, but anything to keep Elizabeth in bed. The maid hustled out, giving Stella a sharp look before closing the door.
Stella sat on the edge of the bed and tucked Elizabeth in. “Why were you going to call me?”
“I’ve had a few visitors today.”
“So I heard. Rena’s pretty upset about that, but you like visits.”
“They were about you.”
“Me?”
“It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”
Stella wasn’t so sure about that. The news wasn’t as easy to interpret as Elizabeth thought. Jan Bikker had noticed Micheline Dubois at the baron’s party and he’d begun making inquiries about her. Some of Elizabeth’s connections had been called directly. Bikker asked where Micheline’s loyalties lay. How did she feel about Germany? What was her business? Did she like the Jews?
“What did they say?” Stella asked with her heart in her throat.
“Don’t worry. They were surprised but calm. You care deeply for Germany with many connections through your work.”
“What about my buying from the Jews? It’s out that I pay too much.”
“And he knows that, but the two men he asked told him that you are trying to get their trust and the Americans don’t care what you spend.”
“But why would I do that? What would it get me in the end?”
Elizabeth sighed and twisted her tousled hair over her shoulder. “It was implied that you were keeping track of the Jews for later.”
“A list?”
“Yes. You know how they love lists,” said Elizabeth. “Presumably you will turn it over when it happens.”
“What else did he want to know?” Stella asked.
“If you will stay in The Netherlands after.”
“After the invasion?” Stella asked.
“That was the inference,” said Elizabeth. “What happened at that party?”
“Nothing really. I confirmed the suspicions.”
“About who? Bikker or the baron?”
“Both actually.”
Elizabeth assumed an all-knowing posture. “Was I right?”
“Not about the baron.”
“But he’s nothing but a dilettante. He plays at life.”
“Maybe, but at worst he won’t choose a side. He’ll go along to keep along.”
“And at best?”
“He’d help us if asked, but we won’t ask.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be.”
“Then why won’t we ask?”
Stella told her about the feeling of something being off.
“But that’s just a feeling. We have to use everything at our disposal. Everything to fight them. Nothing must be held back.” Elizabeth’s hands were balled up in fury. If she had been well, she would’ve been quite a weapon.
“What do you know about his trips to the country?”
Elizabeth blinked in astonishment. “You are thorough.”
“I have to be,” said Stella. “What do you know?”
“He has a child or two. Who knows? The way that man has behaved, he could have five or six.”
“That’s just rumors. Anything else?”
Elizabeth frowned. “Like what?”
“He’s…an eccentric,” said Stella, using her grandmother’s term for the family streak of insanity. It sounded so much better than lunatic.
“He’s nobility. Aren’t they all?”
“No, they aren’t.” She told Elizabeth about the servants and how they hustled him away when he got loud.
“You think he’s…ill?”
“I’m suspicious enough that I wouldn’t make contact with him.”
“You’ll report this.”
“Yes, of course. I already have.”
Elizabeth sagged down against her pillows. “Poor man. I had no idea.”
“With enough money it’s easy to cover. I could be wrong, but we can’t take the chance.”
“So he won’t serve his country,” she said.
“Not in this way,” said Stella.
“I’m sad to hear it, but you are leaving now? You won’t try to get any more information?”
“No. I’m done.” That’s what she said, but Stella had an inkling that she shouldn’t leave. Jan Bikker asking questions about her and Germany. That could be bad or very useful, but her life was calling. Nicky waiting. “I’m leaving. It’s been ordered.”
Elizabeth took her hand. “Why did you come to see me? I wasn’t expecting another visit.”
Stella opened her handbag and gave Elizabeth a stack of bills she’d gotten at the bank earlier. “I said I’d pay for Ezra and Lonia. I meant it.”
“What a dear woman you are. I always did like the Belgians.”
“Has Truus come back yet?”
“Not yet. She hasn’t been in contact, but as soon as she is I will tell her about the children. We will do everything we can.”
Rena knocked on the door and brought in a tea tray. It had only one cup. Rena was many things. Subtle wasn’t one of them. “You were just leaving?”
Stella chuckled. “I was.” She stood up and then said, “I will see if I can help the Dereczynski parents, too.”
“Can you?” Rena asked. “How?”
“I do know Americans. They have money and influence. When I get home, I can ask my company to sponsor the Dereczynskis.”
Elizabeth clasped her hands together. “Would they? Is it possible?”
“I won’t know until I try.” Stella had kept Francesqua’s list from Elizabeth and Rena. They could not connect Micheline to the Bleds, but this could be a new list. Micheline’s list.