• 39 •

THE GUN WENT off, uselessly, into the damp earth beneath the tent. Beulah’s face, however, did not enjoy such a soft landing. She hit the wooden platform at full force and saw stars. Her nose felt the way it did when she inhaled a full head of bath water as a little girl. She tried to breathe out of her mouth, but with Constance’s full weight on her, she could only cough and sputter.

She felt the gun being jerked out of her hand. After a little fumbling around, Constance shifted off her and pulled her wrists behind her back.

Beulah would’ve laughed if she could even take a breath. “Are you about to put me into handcuffs?”

“I was thinking about it,” Constance admitted. That’s when Beulah knew with certainty that she used to be a cop.

Beulah felt herself yanked up to her knees, which allowed the blood to run right out of her nose, and also put her directly in front of Freeman Bernstein, who was crumpled on the floor and staring at her with an expression of wild-eyed terror.

It might’ve been worth it, Beulah thought, just to see him looking like that.

She craned her neck around — although Constance did not, in fact, possess any handcuffs, she held Beulah’s wrists behind her as if she did — and saw Norma standing just inside the tent flap, huffing a little from having dashed in behind her sister. Now there were four of them, but there was no question as to who was in charge. All eyes were on Constance.

She pulled Beulah to her feet and spun her around. Norma gasped when she took in the ghoulishness that was Beulah’s face. Constance was unmoved.

“It’s only a broken nose.” Constance pushed a handkerchief against Beulah’s face and turned to Norma. “I’m going to take this girl to the infirmary. You stay here and keep an eye on him. Don’t let anyone else in.”

“You can’t hold me here!” Freeman said, scrambling to his feet. “I was nearly killed, and now I’m to be arrested? You might be able to subdue a man like me, Miss Kopp, but your sister damn well couldn’t.”

Constance thought about that for a minute and looked down at the pistol in her hand. She passed it to Norma, who took it without expression, as if she handled a gun every day.

“You will stay here,” Constance said to Freeman, “and you will not say a word. Norma has the gun.”

That seemed to settle it.

Constance stepped outside with her arm around Beulah. Hack came running toward them. Campers were already streaming out of the mess hall, having been excited by the gunshot.

“I went to look for —” Hack was panting from the exertion. “This one.”

Beulah turned her head away. She didn’t like a young man to see her like that.

“Never mind,” Constance said. “Listen to me. You are to stand outside this tent. Don’t let anyone in or out. Not even May Ward. Do you understand?”

Hack straightened a little. “Yes, ma’am.”

“If anyone asks about the gunshot, tell them . . .” Constance paused. Beulah could see her debating with herself. She wouldn’t order him to lie. “Tell them it was a misfire, and no one was hurt.”

Hack didn’t flinch. “Yes, ma’am,” he repeated. “I can see that much for myself.”

“Good. We’re going to the infirmary. If you see Nurse Cartwright, send her over. Don’t move until I come back.”

It was quite a sensation to be tucked up under Constance’s arm when she was giving orders, much like leaning up against an engine when it starts. Constance moved under considerable power. Beulah yielded to it and allowed herself to be swept along, limp as a rag doll.

Constance spoke into the top of her head as they marched up to the infirmary. “You’re going to tell me everything, and you’re going to do it tonight.”

Beulah could offer nothing but a cough in response to that.

“We’ll get your nose set, and then you’ll tell me,” Constance said.

Beulah managed to ask, “Is it broken?”

“Oh, certainly,” Constance said. “But a nose is nothing. It’ll be good as new.”

They were only in the infirmary tent for a few minutes before the nurse bustled in.

“I am the guilty party,” Constance said. “Let’s get her fixed up and bandaged, then I’ll need a few minutes alone with her.”

“Certainly,” said Nurse Cartwright, equally unable to resist Constance’s crisp orders.

What followed was too unpleasant for Beulah to form a definitive memory of. There was a slug of the nurse’s anesthetizing tonic, followed by a great deal of gauze over her face, and Constance’s hand in hers so that she could squeeze as hard as she liked, and another terrible whack to the nose, this one twice as painful as the last, because the nose had begun to swell and throb by then. After that, a few caustic and foul-smelling ointments were applied, a bandage was wrapped all the way around her head, and she was eased down into that familiar well-cushioned hospital bed.

Beulah gave a little cough in hopes of another round of medicinal brandy, but was offered only tea and aspirin. She wanted neither, but Constance insisted.

“I’ll take one of each,” Constance said, having refused any other attention from the nurse over the injuries she might’ve inflicted upon herself when she threw Beulah down.

As soon as they were alone — and Constance had taken a look outside after the nurse left, to be sure she wasn’t lingering around the infirmary — she settled into Nurse Cartwright’s chair and put her questions to Beulah.

“Let’s start with your name, dear.”

“You know my name! It’s Roxanna Collins.”

Constance looked cross at that and took Beulah’s tea away, which pained Beulah a little. It had been lovely and warm between her hands.

“You’re out of time, and you’ve exhausted my patience. That name never did fit you. Tell me the real one, or we’ll bring Mr. Bernstein in here and let him tell us.”

Beulah had forgotten, already, that the man who knew her secrets was only just down the hill. Could Norma really stop him from talking? Beulah decided that she could: she’d seemed quite at home with that pistol.

“All right, then,” Beulah said. “I’m surprised you haven’t guessed it already. I’m Beulah Binford.”

Constance snorted and wiped the tea from her chin. “Don’t play games.”

“How do you suppose I know Freeman Bernstein?”

Constance sat back in her chair and stared. “I wish I could take that bandage off and have another look at you.”

“Don’t you remember the pictures?”

“Not particularly. It’s been so long. But I’m surprised Norma didn’t recognize you.” Constance was still staring at her with such intensity that Beulah wanted to pull the covers over her head.

“That was six years ago. It was an old picture even then. I’ve lost my baby face, and I changed my hair.”

“I suppose you would have. But what are you doing here?”

“What do you think? I wanted to go to France.”

Constance stared up at the top of the tent pole. “Beulah Binford wants to serve her country,” she mused.

“Don’t you go writing headlines,” Beulah snapped. “I only wanted to get away. It hasn’t been easy all these years.”

“Have you been in New York the whole time?” Constance asked.

“How did you know I was in New York?”

“You claim to live there, or was that a lie, too? But I do remember that story just two or three years ago. ‘Beulah Binford Makes Good at the Telephone Company,’ something like that. They went through exactly what you were paid, and how much it cost you for room and board and subway fare, and wondered if you’d be able to live an upright life on so little, or if you’d fall prey to the first man with money in his pocket.”

“Yes, well, that story was the end of the telephone company job, as they also happened to mention that I was working there under an assumed name. You can only imagine the clever little lady supervisors doing their detective work.”

“Oh, I can imagine it,” Constance said mildly. “Now, what have you got against Freeman Bernstein? I do know that he managed you. Norma was very eager to remind me of that last year, when Fleurette joined up with May Ward.”

“Why, because it shows what a shady character he is?” Beulah asked. “I suppose Norma didn’t want Fleurette associating with anyone who associated with Beulah Binford.”

“It might’ve been something like that. But Norma was proven wrong. Mr. Bernstein did Fleurette no harm.”

“Well, I can’t say the same.” There were tears in her eyes, unbidden, that rolled into the bandage across her face. Now her nose was starting to swell again, and to throb unbearably.

Constance put a hand on hers. “I’m not going to make you tell it all tonight. But didn’t you expect to see Mr. Bernstein? Surely you knew he was married to May Ward.”

“I didn’t,” Beulah insisted. “He mentioned a wife on the stage, but I thought she’d be named Bernstein.”

“But the two of them were in the papers together all the time. You must’ve kept up with him.”

“Oh, I couldn’t bear to look at a paper after . . .” She choked and put a handkerchief to her mouth.

“I’ve heard enough,” Constance said. “I can guess at the rest. I’m going to call Nurse Cartwright back in here, and I’ll put Clarence on guard duty outside the infirmary all night long. I suggest you go right on being Roxanna Collins for the moment.”

“What’s the use? The entire camp knows by now,” Beulah groaned, “and you’re only going to show me the gate in the morning.”

“If Norma’s held fast, the entire camp doesn’t know yet,” Constance said. “How do you suppose she’s handled Mr. Bernstein?”

Beulah would’ve smiled, but the bandage wouldn’t allow it. “I haven’t heard another gunshot, but I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Nor would I. Get some sleep. We’ll sort you out in the morning.”