 
SpeakEasy

Aimee L. Gross, C R Kennedy, Miranda Ericsson Kendall, Elaine Greywalker, Nan Plum, A. M. Coffee, BlackRose, Janet Jenkins Stotts, Stacy Spilker, Marian Rakestraw, Diana Marsh, Dennis E. Smirl, Crystal K. Green, D. L. Rose, Rae Kary Staab, Elizabeth Staab Van Deusen, Romualdo R. Chavez, B. R. Knight, Sarah Langley, Holly Mace, Paul Swearingen, and Lissa Staley

Published by Topeka and Shawnee County Public Library at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Topeka and Shawnee County Public Library

Each chapter of SpeakEasy is written by a different author as part of the collaborative 2013 Community Novel Project. This book was serialized between April and August 2013 and is now published in its entirety.

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter 1 by Aimee L. Gross

Chapter 2 by C R Kennedy

Chapter 3 by Miranda Ericsson Kendall

Chapter 4 by Elaine Greywalker

Chapter 5 by Nan Plum

Chapter 6 by A. M. Coffee and BlackRose

Chapter 7 by Janet Jenkins Stotts

Chapter 8 by Stacy Spilker

Chapter 9 by Marian Rakestraw

Chapter 10 by Diana Marsh

Chapter 11 by Dennis E. Smirl

Chapter 12 by Crystal K. Green

Chapter 13 by D. L. Rose

Chapter 14 by Rae Kary Staab and Elizabeth Staab Van Deusen

Chapter 15 by Romualdo R. Chavez

Chapter 16 by B. R. Knight

Chapter 17 by Sarah Langley

Chapter 18 by Holly Mace

Chapter 19 by Paul Swearingen

Chapter 20 by Lissa Staley

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Author Interviews

Past and Future Projects

DEDICATION

To those who tell the stories, those who listen to the stories, those who inspire the stories, those who write the stories, those who edit the stories, those who narrate the stories, those who upload and download the stories, those who advertise the stories, those who buy the stories, those who share the stories, and those who read the stories, we dedicate this community novel.

Chapter 1 by Aimee L. Gross

"What do you mean it won't start? It was working just fine when I brought it in here." Ronni Long looked in swelling panic at the wall clock over the mechanic's head.

"We tried to start it in the bay after your oil change, and it's dead. Nada." The man made a motion like turning an ignition key, then shrugged. "Not even a click."

"I have to be in Topeka in just under two hours. It's so important, mister, really. I have to interview a hundred-and-some year old lady for my research. I can't put her off! Can't you fix it or jump it or something?"

"We're an oil change place. You're going to have to get it towed to a garage or to the dealership."

"The dealership is totally across town! That will cost buckets of money, and I don't have time–"

He held up a hand. "They have computers and stuff there. You gotta get it out of the bay. You can't leave it here."

Ronni grabbed her cell out of her purse and stalked a few feet from the counter. What else were boyfriends for? She called Charles, and the instant he picked up, wailed, "This is the worst day of my automotive life! I need to borrow your car – right now."

"Another worst day, Veronica? I thought you were in Topeka, and I need my car."

She sputtered a quick summation of her desperate circumstances. "Please, Charles? I'll try to be back before your study group."

"No good, honey. I need it this afternoon – I'm giving... someone else a ride to the library first."

Just that split-second hesitation told Ronni exactly what he meant. "Maybe she could drive you to the library so I can take your car."

She heard a heavy sigh. "You know that's why I didn't tell you about giving her a lift – 'cause you'd be just like that about it. She's nothing but a fellow law student."

"Fine. A 'fellow' female law student. Cut to the chase. Are you helping me in my time of need or not? I just need to know."

"I really think you need to learn how to handle this sort of thing for yourself, Veronica. Be independent, you know?"

"Goodbye now, Charles. I have to go be all autonomous."

She called her roommate while the mechanic chewed a wad of gum and watched her avidly.

"We close at 5, lady," he remarked.

If I throw my phone at him, I won't be able to use it while I beg Donna for help, she thought.

But it wasn't Donna who answered. A male voice said, "Donna's phone."

"Who's this?" she said, off balance. Did she know him? He sounded semi-familiar.

"I'm Pete, Donna's brother. Who's this?"

"Oh, it's Ronni Long. I met you when you helped us move in. I didn't know you were in town. So, hi, hello, and can I speak to Donna?"

"Shower," he said economically. "What's the trouble? You sound kinda rattled."

In a barely coherent rush, she told him everything – about her car, how her faculty advisor wasn't really behind her choice of a 108-year-old primary source, how she had to make this work or spend another whole year living on peanut butter sandwiches and tips from her bartending job. She omitted the recent unsatisfying exchange with her boyfriend Charles, who was never called anything but Charles, not even by his parents.

And in twenty minutes, she stood watching Pete lean his elbows on the Casey Oil and Lube counter, as he replied to every excuse that came out of the mechanic's mouth by saying, "It was running fine when she brought it in."

Carl, as identified by his embroidered name above his shirt pocket, finally gave up. "What do you want me to do, sir?"

"Have the guys push it out of the bay and into a parking space so we can tow it tomorrow. I'm going to take her to interview the older lady now."

Carl snorted. "My grandma is 75, and she can't remember what she had for lunch yesterday."

"What did you have for lunch yesterday?" Ronni snapped. "The staff says this lady is perfectly lucid."

Carl looked blank as to what he had eaten yesterday, and also as if he did not know what 'lucid' meant. Ronni let Pete take her elbow and walk her to the door.

"I'd offer you some coffee for the road," Pete grinned, "but you seem pretty revved already. Do you need anything out of your car?"

"Oh, yes, I'd have forgotten all of it. Digital recorder, all my notes, her file." She felt her pockets for the key, until he reminded her the keys would be in the car. If he didn't think I was a total idiot before, he can be sure of it now, she thought as she gathered an armload from the back seat. "This is so great of you," she said aloud, "I'll pay for your gas and the tolls. Are you sure you don't have anything else to do?"

"Not a thing. A gig tomorrow. Just bumming a night's lodging from my sister." He opened his car door for her. He had shown up in a Nissan only a couple of years old. Not a 'vintage' model like her grad school beater.

"A gig?" she said when he slid behind the wheel.

"My band is playing in town. I came early to see Donna."

"What kind of music do you play?"

"Jazz," he said, with a reverent, velvety tone to his voice.

She directed him through town to the turnpike entrance while watching his easy, laconic driving. Donna had always said her brother had lots of girls hanging around. Ronni decided he was not bad looking at all. Nice eyes. "Brimming with Irish charm" had been Donna's verdict.

He glanced her way."Tell me about your interviews with the aged. Are you a history student?"

"Cultural anthropology. I'm working on my thesis examining prohibition in Kansas. Bootleggers, speakeasy clubs, rum runners. Also involving women's social roles in the period ... are you sure you want the full discourse? I hope you brought something else to do while I talk to her. Or, I hear they have a good public library in Topeka."

"If it wouldn't be a privacy violation, I'd be interested in what she has to say. How often does a person get to hear actual history from someone who really lived it? What do you know about her?"

Ronni fished the file from the stack on the floor at her feet and opened it on her lap. A photo of Julia was on the first page. She had a wry smile and a cloud of white hair partly captured in a bun on the top of her head. Her eyes seemed to suggest she was in on a grand joke but debating about sharing it with the photographer. Ronni had liked her the instant she saw the picture.

"I hope I will have accomplished half as much if I live to be a hundred," Ronni said, turning over pages behind the photo. "Born in 1905. Listen to this – and I don't even have everything she's done yet – she was a missionary in Alaska, married to a bootlegger who ran whiskey from Canada, an innkeeper with another husband, a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse, barely survived the influenza epidemic, worked in a night club – which must have been a speakeasy considering the dates..."

"Was she a cocktail waitress, like you?"

"I'm a bartender," Ronni corrected, with a touch of frost.

"Is that an important distinction?" Pete changed lanes before shooting her a brief look, eyebrows raised.

"Well, the tips are worse," she admitted. "But it has a bit more status, I think."

"I must remember to treat the barkeeps with more respect when I play the clubs, that being the case. And tip heavy."

She knew he was making fun of her a little but found she didn't mind. He was calming to be around; he didn't take himself so seriously all the time, as Charles seemed to do. She went on. "I talked to Julia to set the interview up. The nurse handed her the phone, and the first thing she asked me was, 'How old are you?' When I told her twenty-four, she said, 'Good. I only make the acquaintance of young people these days. All the people I knew when I was young are dead, and so now I only want to meet people who are going to outlive me. You're healthy, are you?' I laughed so hard. She was a total crack-up. And anyway, how did you know I worked in a bar?"

"I asked Donna."

"Okay. But why?"

He didn't answer for a minute and looked over his shoulder to check before pulling out to pass a Frito Lay truck. When he was back in the center lane, he kept looking straight ahead but smiled as he said, "I asked her a lot of things, after moving day. I thought you were very lovely."

Ronni had no idea what to say. Most guys she had met would have said they thought she was pretty, or maybe cute. Possibly hot if alcohol was a factor. She knew how to deal with that. Lovely was so ... sweet and old-fashioned. He'd said it sort of like he'd said jazz. What was he really like? Was he weird? She barely knew him at all, and she was alone in a vehicle with him ...

She jumped and gave a little yelp when her cell rang. Charles calling. "Excuse me," she said to Pete. "I need to take this."

He nodded and flicked on the wipers, since it had started to mist.

Ronni looked out the passenger window with the phone pressed to her ear. It wasn't really private, but ... "Hi, Charles. You wanted something?"

"You sound chipper. Has your worst automotive day been eclipsed by something else?"

Yes, because of all your gallantry, mister. "I'm on my way to Topeka now – I got a lift with a guy I know."

"Really? What guy?"

"Pete O'Neill; he's a friend of mine."

"Since when? I've never heard you mention him."

"Well," she said, savoring every syllable, "you know that's why I didn't tell you, because I knew you'd be just like that about it."

"Okay, ouch. Are you sure you're all right? You sound ... odd."

Conscious of Pete in the driver's seat, she didn't address his remark, instead saying breezily, "I'll text when I get back to Lawrence. If you want to come over."

"You know how late study group runs."

Ronni rolled her eyes, still looking out the passenger window. "Yes, Charles, I know," she purred, as if he had said something affectionate, something a person might expect a boyfriend to say to their girlfriend. Especially while a potential serial killer was driving said girlfriend around the state.

"Look, I have to get to group. I'm presenting. Hope your thing goes well." He hung up before she could say anything else. Ronni shifted in the car seat to face front again and saw Pete grinning, although he was looking out the windshield, and not at her.

"I guess that was your boyfriend?"

"Did Donna tell you my whole employment and dating history?"

"I didn't get to look at your permanent record or anything. I asked her if you were involved with anybody, and she told me you were."

"Well, yes, I am. Involved."

"Exclusively?"

When she hesitated, he looked over at her. "Watch the road. It's raining harder. We're not seeing anyone else, no. Look, you're not going to get the wrong idea, are you? I mean, I'm not going to have to stomp on your instep and get out the pepper spray, right?"

"Lord, no. Is that what you usually do to guys who are interested in you?"

"I'd really like it if you turned out to be a nice guy who's just helping me out in a jam. Doing a favor for his sister's roommate."

He nodded soberly. "That is a precise description of my involvement, yes. You clearly have experience defining social roles."

"So, we're not going to have any more ... overtures." She narrowed her eyes at him.

He laughed. "Ah, even a musical reference. Anything for you, Ronni. If that's the way you want it, I'll be fraternal and nothing else."

"Make fun of me all you want."

He laughed again and inclined his head toward her.

She laughed, too. "No, really, make fun of me all you want. I can enjoy being teased if I don't have to worry about your motives. This is the exit we want."

Her phone app led them to Lakeview Manor. The long, low stone building had wings coming off at angles everywhere, and Ronni had no idea which wing held her source. She told Pete to pull up under the portico so she could run in and ask where they should park.

"It says visitor on those spaces," he pointed across the drive. "You go on in so you don't get wet. I'll park and bring your stuff."

"Oh, I can get it. I'll wait for you inside." She gathered the files and the bag with the recorder to her chest and opened the car door. It wasn't until she was standing in the entryway watching Pete dodge puddles at a run that she glanced down to see she had gotten something black and greasy smeared all across the front of her sweater. Her pale yellow sweater.

Ronni moaned and looked at the files she was clutching. One of them had an oily imprint of her shoe on it. Grimacing, she plucked the file folder out and pulled the papers from it, then folded it grease-side in. It's probably all over the floor of his car from my shoe ... I must have stepped in something when I went to get the things out of my car. Ronni sighed and thought of a carpet shampoo bill being added to the total she already owed Pete.

Pete stared at her front when he came through the nursing home door. "You've got some, uh–" he waved a hand in front of his chest and gestured toward the black grunge on her sweater. "Do you want my jacket?"

"I'd swim in it. No, I'll just have to go ahead. Maybe she can't see well." Ronni hiked up the strap of her shoulder bag. "If I should get to live to be a centenarian, this is one day I'm sure to recall in rich detail!" She swung around toward the reception desk. "Let's go find my lady."

CHAPTER 2 by C R Kennedy

Ronni stared into the woman's face for several moments, taking advantage of the opportunity to fully explore the deep lines, the soft white hair, and the cloudy blue eyes. Mrs. Julia Stanford was currently engrossed in the youthful dialogue of Pete O'Neill, oblivious to Ronni's subtle investigation.

Julia insisted that Pete take a store-bought cookie off the silver tray resting on the coffee table between Julia's light blue wing chair and the floral print sofa that Ronni and Pete shared. Pete indulged her, and as he took a bite, Ronni jumped in to begin her interview. "Julia, I read a little bit about your past—that you were married to a bootlegger and an innkeeper. And about the night club ..."

Julia's smile grew with each word Ronni spoke until she erupted with laughter. But it wasn't a I've had a great life and I can't wait to tell you about it kind of chuckle, but more of a you poor, silly girl kind of laugh. "Don't believe everything you read, Miss Long. Or everything you hear."

Ronni shuffled through the files on her lap. "But I found that in a magazine ..."

"Yes, probably from an article printed in 1984 without my permission, consent, or knowledge." Julia brought her right hand slowly up to her face. Her hand shook rapidly during its ascent. "A friend of mine submitted the picture of me," she divulged, "and probably the legend. Those weren't my words."

Pete jumped into the conversation with a bit of cookie still in his mouth. "Did you sue the filthy rag?"

"Pete ..." Ronni hoped her expression of embarrassment was soft enough that Julia wouldn't hear. "I'm sorry, Julia, I thought—."

Julia uncovered her face and smiled over to Pete the sweetest, sincerest, gentlest countenance Ronni had ever witnessed. "I certainly didn't want to give them any publicity at my expense. Besides, people believe what they want to believe; the truth becomes unimportant and lost in the haze." She began to laugh again. "It's kind of like my eyesight. I rarely wear my glasses ... guess I'd rather see what I want to see, especially when I look in the mirror."

"You're lovely," Pete said softly. Julia's faded blue eyes welled up, and Ronni swore her own heart sank an inch, recalling him using that word earlier. Then she glanced to her watch, thinking that when she set up this interview the nurse had mentioned something about a time limit, maybe until five o'clock. They'd arrived 10 minutes late and now seemed to be wasting time. Julia set her voice recorder down next to the tray of cookies. "How about if you tell me your story ... in your own words."

The old woman's face became grave. "You're assuming I can remember."

"We'll help you," Pete said. "Tell us about the speakeasy you were involved with."

"We never called it that, of course," Julia began. "To us it was Mike's Mirage. Mike ... what the heck was his last name?" It seemed to take her forever to say the next word. Ronni wondered if she was actually trying to remember a name or if Julia's mind was flooding with memories that she was sorting through, maybe attempting to pull out the best nuggets. "Michael Ward," she whispered. "We didn't see him much; he was behind the scenes. The whole place was behind the scenes, hidden away somewhere on 4th Street, or was it on 2nd ... ?"

"Did you work there, Julia, or just hang out?" Pete asked. Ronni picked up a shortbread cookie and bit down hard, crunching loud enough to get Pete's attention. He winked at her and fire surged through her veins.

"I'm not sure when Mike took over, but I remember it was some sort of blind tiger in the early twenties. I worked there, played there, and during the early years of the depression, I lived there. No exaggeration," she emphasized, "I lived there."

The cookie went soft in Ronni's mouth, but she couldn't swallow it.

"My great-grandmother lived in a box car," Pete said. "I'd much rather live in a bar."

"I thanked God every day," she said. "I was blessed beyond words." Julia fumbled her hands, one over the other, and Ronni noticed that the woman wore no rings. "I'm sorry, miss," she said in Ronni's direction, "this isn't the interview you were looking for."

"No ... " Ronni said quickly, but didn't know what to say next, because honestly, this was not at all what she had imagined. "Please continue," she finally said.

"I guess, during the six or seven years that Mike was the boss, I served drinks, swept the floor, and cleaned the only toilet—another blessing. I often ran to the market for food items and ... " she leaned back in the tall wing chair, tipped her head, and closed her eyes, "ahhh ... to be young again."

Julia was quiet for a moment, and Pete and Ronni looked at each other. Pete came forward in his chair and Ronni mimicked him, not wanting him to pounce in again and steer the conversation away from this possible bombshell of a revelation. Ronni was about to ask her what she meant when Julia started humming. Pete mouthed something to Ronni, and she was pretty sure he was saying, "I know that tune." Ronni swiped her level hand in front of her mouth several times, hoping that he'd pick up that she was saying, "Keep quiet!"

Julia resumed. "I guess you could say I did a little bit of entertaining in my day. I wasn't really that good, but I was cheap. It was mostly for room and board."

Ronni's eyes opened wide. Pete's mouth gaped, and his lips silently said whoa!

Ronni imagined this would go down as either the best or absolute worst interview of her career. She knew she needed to say something to keep things rolling along, but didn't want to insult or make a fool of anyone. She finally mouthed to Pete, What do I do?

He smiled, and she instantly regretted her query.

"Did you play a little horn in your day?" he asked out loud.

"I thought you were eyeing that earlier," Julia said. "Will you get it for me?"

He sprang from the sofa, and Ronni leaned from side to side hoping to get a glimpse of whatever object was beyond Julia's chair.

"Just pull it straight off its mounting on the wall," Julia continued. "I have it cleaned and re-padded and re-corked as necessary, even though no one plays it anymore except the guy at Manning Music when he does the maintenance."

Pete walked along the tiny kitchenette located directly behind Julia and then entered a short hallway. Ronni couldn't see him for a moment, but then he popped out carrying what she thought was a clarinet.

"So you played with a band?" Ronni asked the woman.

"With a band, without a band ... it didn't really matter. I wasn't there to draw in crowds. The crowds came for the booze. My part was to keep the party going. Well ... before October, 1929, it was to keep the party going. After that, we were honestly just trying to get a party started again."

Pete gently placed the black instrument in Julia's palms, but his hands hovered over it for a minute. "It's so beautiful," he said.

Julia's index finger slowly circled what Ronni assumed was chrome surrounding the finger holes. "I got this one for a dollar back in 1930," she said. "My dollar fed a family of four that day, but this clarinet fed me for about seven years."

Ronni noticed out of the corner of her eye that Pete was brushing his cheek. "Did you learn to play the clarinet as a child?" Ronni asked quickly. "At school ... or through private lessons?"

"I wish I had a reed," Julia said, as if speaking to a small child nestled on her lap. "But my nurse won't let me have one. The foolish woman thinks I'll splinter it with my tongue and choke on the pieces."

Pete was digging around inside his jacket. "Mrs. Stanford ... " He pulled out a handful of plastic and dumped it on the coffee table near the silver tray. His fingers riffled through an assortment of small, long, thin, clear plastic cases. "I ran a few errands after lunch." Pete pinched the smallest case. "Here we are ..." He opened it and presented a thin piece of shaved wood to Julia.

She smiled sweetly at him, but it quickly grew to a happy frown. "My mouth's too dry," she admitted.

"No worries — I've got it." Pete put the object half way in his mouth, wrapped his lips tight around it, and winked again at Ronni. She took this as a green light opportunity.

"You mentioned you also served drinks at the speakeasy — at Mike's Mirage. Do you remember the exact time frame? Was that when you were married to a bootlegger?" Julia's recent comment about "her legend" surfaced in Ronni's mind. "Did you actually have a husband who was a bootlegger?"

Julia's fingers grazed smoothly over the instrument, a silky black cat that had possibly brought her good luck instead of bad. "Mike left the day-to-day operations of the speakeasy — as you called it — to a handful of us while he managed his other more lucrative and above-the-board ventures. We kept the entertainment drifting in, the booze flowing, and the cops at bay. There were no schedules, no specials, no bookkeeping tasks, no hours of operation — there was no governing body telling us what we had to do. Guess that's the upside to illegal activities. The law can't tell you how to do it."

Julia's eyelids appeared to get very heavy, but her fingertips continued their exploration of the intricate details of the clarinet. She seemed to sing the word "troubles," hummed for a moment and then sang "get happy." Ronni glanced over to Pete who had his eyes closed and was wiggling his fingers in quick, sharp motions. What sounded like "judgment day" escaped Julia's pale pink lips, and then the song must have died because her voice returned to monotone. "I clearly remember standing inside and locking the heavy iron gate that protected the front door," she began, "because I watched the Senator and a woman that was not his wife walk away arm in arm so she wouldn't slip on the ice in her T-straps. I think they kissed before they crossed the street, and the romance of the moment must have distracted my thought pattern. I shut the heavy walnut door, but I've never for the life of me been able to remember if I slid the little iron arm over the back of metal peek-a-boo door – that's what Hal, the bouncer, fondly called it. There was no one left in the joint but me and Rosie — I guess she'd become my roommate at that point. I washed up the two cocktail glasses that were left sitting on the bar – we'd done all the other clean-up while waiting for the Senator and his date to leave — then I headed to bed. There was a small mattress that we laid down next to the furnace in the storage room, and it was my turn to use it that night. Most comfortable bed I ever had ... "

Julia suddenly gripped the clarinet and the violence of her shaking hands transferred to the instrument, the vibrations reflecting the sudden racing of Ronni's heart. "I ..." She released the clarinet, and Pete was suddenly on the edge of chair as if he had wanted to catch the instrument. Or maybe he wanted to catch Julia. But the clarinet landed softly on her legs and her voice seemed clearer now. "I've never told this story ... not to anyone ... not even to Rosie."

She fell against the back of the wing chair again. "I awoke after only a few hours of sleep that night, and as I rolled to my side, I suddenly realized my mistake. I ran to the front door and threw it open to witness gently falling snow that glittered in the street light. The iron gate was swung open all the way, flush with the brick facing on the building. I slapped my hand over my heart and could feel the hard outline of the gate key still in the pocket of my night gown. I know I stood there for a moment, the cold wind cutting into the overly-worn cotton fabric that barely covered me. There seemed to be no explanation for how that gate got unlocked. Mike had the only other key, and he was in Kansas City for the week. So I shut the gate but didn't lock it, knowing the weather would have made travel extremely slow all day — and all that night — and that our midnight delivery could well occur at four a.m." Julia's eyes began to float around the room — she was searching for something. "So I headed back to bed, but the storage room seemed exceptionally cold. I touched the furnace and it was hot, so I turned around... and noticed a thin vertical sliver of dim light. It was a glimpse of the snow in the alleyway.The back door was opened a crack — but that seemed impossible. It bolted from the inside. So I re-locked it and tried to wrap my mind around the situation. But before I ... well ... I must have panicked, because I unbolted the door and opened it fully, and there he was. No truck, no gin or whiskey crates, no shotgun, no blood. Just Billy — Billy the Bootlegger, as Rosie called him — face down in the alley, his body still warm, but covered in a dusting of cold snow."

Julia appeared to be looking Pete dead in the eyes. "He was my friend, and I knew him well — too well — so I did exactly what I was sure he would have wanted. I did it alone and finished before dawn. It's funny, but I remember thinking that Rosie should have gotten the bed that night, because I sure as hell didn't need it." She blinked several times. "Is the reed ready, Mr. O'Neill?"

Pete glanced in Ronni's direction and Ronni shook her head rapidly mouthing "no" over and over.

"You know," Julia said, "I'm a hundred and eight years old — I could go at any second. I'd really like to hear that horn again."

"Uhh ..." came from Pete.

Ronni glanced to her watch. It was ten till five. She began to panic and started shaking her head, but her heart was winning out. She looked away and felt the couch move as Pete got up.

"What are you going to play for us?" Pete asked Julia.

"I'm not."

Pete secured the reed onto one end of the clarinet. "All right," he said. He played a quick string of notes and then twisted the instrument slightly. "There's a tune I have bouncing around in my head for some reason." He laughed softly. "Let's see if I can bring it to life."

Music exploded, and Julia's face lit up, and Ronni felt a surge of heat rush through her body. Pete was swaying, and Julia was singing the words "get happy" again, and Ronni was staring at the voice recorder. Pete's fingers danced, Julia's hand bounced on her thigh, and Ronni watched the seconds tick away on her watch – a slow, even, continuous rhythm on her watch that she couldn't manipulate, couldn't sing to, and couldn't stop. She wasn't part of the party going on around her. She suddenly felt as if she was at work behind her bar on Mass Street, watching the party go on all around her, not really being a part of it, but just an onlooker. Funny... she spent a lot of her bartending time glancing at her watch, also.

The front door of Julia's apartment opened without a knock, and a tall woman in burgundy scrubs with silver-streaked hair walked in. She glared at Pete until he stopped playing. Ronni stood up to make her plea. "It's eight minutes till," she said quickly to the nurse, "I still have eight more minutes."

The nurse, whose plastic name plate only said "Lydia," held a very even face. "No," she said, "Mrs. Stanford needs her medicine at five. I'm sorry, but you need to be out of here, and she needs to be lying down. Those eight minutes belong to me. I think I explained that on the phone."

Ronni was sure she hadn't, but the wheels were in motion. While Pete re-mounted the clarinet on the wall, Lydia eased Julia up from her chair, and Ronni found herself packing up her files and voice recorder. Pete ushered her to the door, but Ronni's mind ran through a mental list of the items she'd brought into the room. Something seemed unaccounted for. As she stepped over the threshold, Ronni realized what she'd left in the apartment was her opportunity to realize a sense of accomplishment.

"I had a lot of fun," Julia said behind them. Ronni turned around, and Julia was standing now with the aid of the nurse. Julia's sharp gaze was fixated on Pete. "Please come back and see me."

"Love to," Pete said, pushing Ronni through the doorway.

Ronni didn't speak a word to him as they walked down the long hall and through the lobby of Lakeview Manor. As they approached the automatic glass door, Ronni was astonished by how dark it was outside, especially considering it was only a few minutes before five o'clock. All on its own, the door slid open to an ominous world. Pete pulled the back of his jacket up and over his head and then offered his arm to her for support, but Ronni resisted, opting instead to position her bag over her head and run toward his car. As she approached the general area, she saw the headlights flash on a car just twenty feet from her and thought maybe she heard a horn honk, but the pounding rain made it impossible to be sure. She opened the passenger door and satisfied herself that it was the right car only a moment before Pete hopped into the driver's seat.

"Wow," he said while catching his breath. He began to laugh.

"Wow is right," she snapped. "How could you do that to me?"

"What?"

"That was supposed to be my interview. You stole it, and now I have nothing."

"Are you kidding me? That was amazing. She bared her soul to us."

Ronni shook her head rapidly. "Are you crazy? Other than some generalities, I really only heard about one night of her life, and I can't even write about it. Outside of that single event, I've got no facts, no dates, no locations, no —."

"I'm pretty sure I could write at least 10 pages on what just happened in there," Pete said, "and it's not even my report."

"Dissertation," she barked. "It's not a 'report'. And you're right — it's my dissertation. I was supposed to steer the interview. I ... " she slapped her hands over her wet hair. "I know absolutely nothing about the men in her life. Husbands, lovers ... nothing!"

"Billy the bootlegger was her lover."

"She never said that."

"It was obvious. And why can't you write about him?"

"She possibly covered up a murder, hid evidence ..."

"It was 80 years ago."

"Are you a law student?" Ronni snapped.

He didn't answer. The sad thing was, her boyfriend was a law student, but she didn't dare mention this to Charles. He'd probably have Julia arrested.

"Look," Pete offered. "She said we could come back—."

"You! She was talking to you."

"She meant both of us."

"Maybe, but all the rapport was with you. She bonded with you." And maybe that was the bottom line in Ronni's anger: she had expected to find in Julia a kindred spirit. She'd expected to leave having made a friend. All she felt was defeat. "Just take me home."

"You can't be serious."

"What do you mean?"

"Can't you see what's going on around us?" He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a cell phone. "It's rush hour, and it's like a typhoon out there. We might even be in a tornado watch. We're not getting on I-70 in this."

"Look, Dorothy, I seriously doubt this car is going to get picked up and whisked away by a tornado—."

"Warning," he interjected, flipping around on his phone. "Shawnee and Douglas counties are currently under a tornado warning. Hold on..." His thumbs were quickly thumping around on his phone screen, and he was intensely focused. "The radar shows the hook echo is south of Topeka, heading east towards Lawrence. I didn't hear any sirens. If I can see through the buckets of rain, we should be okay in town, but we're not leaving Topeka."

Ronni exhaled very slowly and loudly. He was right, but it was difficult for her to admit it. She had so much anger she needed to vent. Between the failed interview and her car problem and Charles — yes, the thought of Charles was triggering negative energy. Amid these three issues, she was sure she could sit in that parking lot and yell at Pete for an hour or two. But the truth was that Pete had nothing to do with her problems.

"What do you propose we do?" she asked with all the calmness she could muster.

"Well," he slid the key into the ignition, "I know a little place in town with decent food. Sometimes they have live music — we played there a few months ago. I'll buy you a beer and we can eat and maybe talk about Julia and what we each picked up on from her this afternoon."

"Okay ... just drive," she replied, looking at the blur of water streaming over the windshield. "And once we get there — if we do make it there alive — let's discuss something unrelated to the interview, my car, or my ..." What could she say? She didn't want to say boyfriend even though he knew she had one. "Just drive," she finally said. "And I'll pray."

CHAPTER 3 by Miranda Ericsson Kendall

Ronni and Pete made their way through the lashing rain to the restaurant without saying a word. Pete seemed calm, but he kept his hands on the wheel and his attention focused intently on the road. That was fine with Ronni; she knew better than to speak when she still felt so ticked off. She sat with her face turned toward the passenger-side window, watching the blurred lights of cars and businesses through the rain-streaked glass and trying to relax.

After a few minutes, Ronni pulled out her phone to check the time. She almost called Charles to let him know that she was all right, but then she dismissed the idea. He was no doubt too busy with his study group to wonder if she was safe from the storm. Anyway, she really didn't feel much like talking to him, either.

A few minutes later Pete pulled into a parking space in front of Speck's Bar and Grill. Ronni's eyebrows went up when she read the sign out front.

"Home of the original three-pound burger," she said. "Are you feeling hungry, Pete?"

He laughed. "Actually, I am, but I probably won't go for the big one ... this time." He winked, and then he was out and opening Ronni's door for her. They ran up to the door and walked into the warmth and good smells of a cozy tavern. Chatting couples were seated in booths along the walls, and most of the tall chairs at the bar were occupied by men with tall beers. A young man with a neat blond ponytail looked towards the door and smiled when they entered, and the woman behind the bar smiled and waved. Pete waved back, held up two fingers, and led the way to an empty booth on the right side of the room. Ronni took a seat across from him.

At the far end of the room, an acoustic guitar player with a smooth voice and a drummer with a long black ponytail were performing "Johnny B. Goode." A small crowd was seated close to the music, tapping their feet. Ronni noticed a woman holding a ukulele and another with some kind of hand drum in her lap.

Ronni locked her eyes on the guitar player and listened absently while she tried to decide how to tell Pete off. Just as she'd drawn a breath to start in, the woman from behind the bar stepped up to the booth carrying two beers in chilled glasses.

"Hey there, Pete," she said. She set the glasses down and pulled out a notepad.

"Hey Deb," Pete said. "I see you've got a good jam cooking up tonight."

Deb nodded. "I think so! Are you going to join in?" She smiled at Ronni and then looked to Pete for his answer.

Pete smiled back and shook his head. "Nope. I'm just here to have dinner with a friend."

"Well, you know you're welcome to get up there if you change your mind," Deb said. "What can I get you to eat tonight?" She lifted her pen and pad.

"I'll take my usual." He turned to Ronni. "How about you? Do you eat burgers and fries?"

Ronni wanted to feign indifference to his offer, but her stomach growled loudly at the thought of a hot meal. Ronni felt herself flushing hot with embarrassment, though she was pretty sure that Pete couldn't have heard it over the music.

"I'll have whatever he's having," she said.

Deb nodded and made a quick note on her pad. "We'll have it right out." She smiled at Ronni again and hurried off to place the order and tend to other customers.

"She's the owner of this place," Pete said, "and she's always especially nice to the musicians. You're going to love these burgers, by the way."

The two of them turned back toward the guitar player and drummer, who had been joined by a young man on a harmonica for a lively version of "Moondance." Ronni sipped her beer and listened, and before long she found herself relaxing into the music. She closed her eyes and tapped her fingers on the table top. When she opened her eyes and looked over at Pete, she found that his eyes were fixed on her, and a smile was lighting up a dimple in his left cheek, near his lips. Ronni jerked her eyes back to the performers, feeling a flush sweep up from her neck. Did he have to be so infuriating all the time?

Just then a tall young man delivered thick burgers loaded with toppings. He set a large plate of homemade fries in between them and laid a few extra napkins at the end of the table.

He smiled. "Can I get you anything else?"

Pete grinned and reached for his burger. "I think I'm all set. How about you, Ronni?"

Ronni nodded and smiled, her eyes locked on her plate. She hadn't eaten since early that morning, and she realized suddenly that she was famished. She picked up her burger with both hands and took a big bite, closed her eyes, and moaned.

Pete swallowed his own first bite and then laughed. "Great, huh? I think they're the best in Topeka, without a doubt. They might even be the best anywhere." He smiled at her and took another big bite.

Ronni narrowed her eyes at him, but she shrugged and took another bite. It was hard to stay mad at Pete, especially with a beer warming her up, lively music loosening her muscles, and a truly heavenly burger in her hands. For a few minutes the two just ate, each reaching for fries from the piled plate in between their bites of burger.

"So," Pete said. "Tell me a little more about this paper of yours."

Catching her glare, Pete laughed and lifted his hands palm-out, in a gesture of surrender.

"Sorry," he said, still laughing. "I mean your dissertation, of course." He smiled – with another flash of dimple – and Ronni found herself staring again. She snapped her eyes up to his, hoping that she didn't look as silly as she felt. She composed her face, took a drink, and then cleared her throat. She focused her eyes on her own fingers, wrapped around the cool glass, while she launched into her spiel.

"Well, as I told you before, my dissertation is about the prohibition era in Kansas. I'm particularly interested in the role of women during that period. Even though women weren't given the right to vote in statewide elections until 1912, they were a driving force behind the effort to dry Kansas up. It was a moral issue for some women, but for others it was all about getting their husbands to spend time and money on family instead of booze – especially since they had to depend on their men for support."

Ronni looked up at Pete, expecting to see his eyes glazing over. Instead she found that his face showed real interest. He nodded to let her know that he was following her so far, and she continued.

"Have you ever heard of Carry Nation?" she asked.

"Sure. She's the woman who went a little crazy and started smashing bars with an axe, right?"

Ronni laughed. "Something like that. She was a reformer, or maybe even a revolutionary. She was widowed by a man who drank himself to death, so the alcohol issue was really personal for her." Ronni chewed up another bite, then continued. "She actually changed the spelling of her name from ie to y, to symbolize that she was going to carry a nation forward into a morally-sound future society, free from the devastating effects of alcohol."

Pete lifted his eyebrows and took a long, slow drink of his beer. He grinned at Ronni.

Ronni got the point. She grinned back and smoothed her face again with an effort. She had to remember not to get too friendly, after all. "Obviously I'm not a teetotaler, myself. But I do think alcohol has ruined plenty of families. I've seen more than my share of drunk-and-disorderlies at the bar, too."

Pete laughed. "I'm sure you have, and without the big tips to compensate."

Ronni rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I do think that she's a really interesting character, and she definitely believed in what she was doing. The part that fascinates me most is the strength that it would have taken, as a woman in that time period, to get out there and take a stand for a really divisive issue, without leaning on a man. I mean, she was a little crazy, I guess, to destroy property – but then you have to remember that when she was taking her hatchet to those bottles, they weren't supposed to be there."

Ronni felt as if she was talking too fast, so she stopped and took a breath and another sip of beer. Her glass was almost empty, but she noticed that Pete's was still more than half full. He caught her assessing look and smiled again.

"One more?" he said. "We're still going to be here for a little while."

Ronni laughed. "I'm tempted." She considered for a moment. "How about a root beer? I think I'd better behave while I discuss prohibition."

Pete laughed and stood up. He headed over to the bar and returned shortly with a dark, bubbly soda on ice. He set it down in front of Ronni and laid a paper-wrapped straw beside it.

"Thanks." She took a long drink.

"So what's the unique slant you're hoping to take on this topic?" Pete asked.

Ronni's eyebrows flew up, and she swallowed hard. "Well, I guess I haven't finished narrowing it down yet. I'm hoping that Julia can give me a lead to follow." She looked down and sighed. "That's probably part of the reason that today's interview stressed me out so much: because I don't feel like I'm any closer to nailing down my focus." She paused, and then went on. "I do think one important aspect of research on women of the era is the way that they connected to men, personally and professionally. Since women still didn't have much official clout, a lot of the temperance activists were really trying to convince their husbands or the men in power to take action. Even Carry's work was defined by her relationship with her husband, since it was his addiction that set her off. None of those women, no matter how intelligent or well-spoken, could have passed laws or enforced them without the support of men in power."

Pete looked thoughtful. "Well," he said, "we're all defined by our relationships, to an extent – even today. The people we know shape our lives and affect how we interact with society as a whole. Back then, I guess, a woman's role in society was mostly determined by her father or the man that she married. Maybe you should look at how the women of that time found the advantages in that sort of limitation, and made so much happen despite it, or even because of it."

Ronni felt surprise on her face before she could stop it. For some reason, she hadn't expected such a thoughtful response. She stared at him blankly for a moment.

"It's a thought," she said. She lifted her soda toward him and smiled. He toasted her in return, and the two took a moment to sip.

Pete lowered his glass. His face was serious now, and he leaned forward to catch her eyes. "Look, I'm really sorry that things didn't go the way you planned today." He looked sincere, and Ronni found herself shrugging and smiling.

"I guess I should have known better than to imagine the whole thing in my mind ahead of time," she said. "I'm glad you were there, really, because she didn't seem to warm up to me."

Pete laughed, and then grew serious again. "You know, I really do think that you got some great material today. You can see already that her existence and livelihood was dependent on the men in her life, but she also had a lot of independence in her position at the speakeasy, since it was operating outside the law anyway. I'm sure that you can get something out of that for your paper. And, if what she said about Billy's death is true, you might even have a mystery to dig out of the archives."

Ronni frowned. "Do you think that really happened?" She paused for a moment, chewing her lip. "Not that I think she's lying or anything like that, but do you think that she's remembering clearly? It was a little hard to follow exactly what went down, like who unlocked the gate and how Billy died. Remember when she said there was no blood? I can't figure out what she meant. And she is 108 years old, after all. Maybe she just got a little mixed-up."

Pete nodded slowly. "I'd agree that the story was kind of sketchy in parts, but I didn't get the feeling that she was confused. I think she was reaching in pretty deep, that's all. It wouldn't be easy to talk about something like that, especially after keeping it inside for so long."

Ronni nodded, her brow creased in thought.

"Anyway," Pete said, "you have some names to research. The first thing might be to look for a reference to Michael Ward or Mike's Mirage, and see if you come up with anything. And how about all that stuff about the friend who sold her out? Maybe you can track down the author of that bogus article and the source. There has to be a reason why she sold Julia out."

Ronni's brows lifted in surprise. Pete had a good point. She did have some leads to follow from the little bit of interview that she'd gotten on record.

Pete continued. "Aside from that, Julia had a really good time today. I don't doubt that she'll give you another interview, and maybe you can steer the conversation a little more next time." He looked so earnest and pleased that Ronni found herself feeling a little bit sorry for the way she'd snapped at him earlier.

"You're right," she said. "I'm sure that she had more fun today than she's had for a while, thanks to you." Feeling flustered, she looked away and busied herself for a moment by dropping her napkin onto her plate and pushing it over to the side.

Pete piled his plate on top of hers. "So when are we going back to see her?"

Ronni's jaw dropped, and all of her irritation returned in a prickly rush. "Excuse me?"

Pete lifted one brow and smiled a maddening half-smile. "Well, you are going to schedule another interview, aren't you?"

Ronni scoffed. "Yeah, definitely. But who said anything about you coming along?"

Pete laughed and held up his hands in surrender again. "Truce. Please! I'm sorry, Ronni, I didn't mean to assume. I guess I should have said that I'd be glad to come along when you go to see Julia again. I'd love to hear more of her story, and I promise to behave myself and let you lead the way. Okay?" He smiled warmly, but his eyes were serious again.

She felt silly for letting herself get all snappy again. After all, the guy had dropped everything to bail her out with a ride, and he'd shown her source a good time. He'd also warmed her tummy with a very pleasing dinner. Still, she wasn't sure that she wanted him along for the next interview. She decided it might be best to change the subject.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. When she opened her eyes, she gave Pete a real smile. She picked up her soda and leaned back in the booth, getting comfy.

"I think we've talked enough about my research for now," she said. "How about you tell me a little more about you?"

Pete smiled and shrugged. "Sure. What would you like to know?"

"Oh, the basics, I guess," Ronni said. "Like what you do between playing gigs and rescuing your sister's friends." She flashed what she hoped was a lighthearted grin, and Pete grinned back and relaxed into his side of the booth.

"Okay," he said. "Here goes. As you know, I grew up in Lawrence, and Donna is my only sister. Our folks are still together, and they still live in the house where we grew up. I graduated from Lawrence High, then I commuted to Washburn in Topeka for my undergraduate degree in English. After that I moved to Emporia and did a graduate teaching assistantship to help pay for my MLS. I moved to Kansas City when I got hired on at the Kansas City Public Library. I just got promoted, so I work in the Kansas Room."

Ronni felt her eyes widen. She knew she shouldn't be so surprised to hear that Pete had a day job, given that his car was probably 15 years younger than hers, but for some reason she hadn't expected to hear that he was so ... professional. She went back through their conversation, wondering if she'd sounded like an utter idiot when she told him about her dissertation.

Pete continued. "Music has always been a big part of my life, and I was a total band nerd in school." He laughed. "But when I went on to college, it became my own thing. I play what I want to play now, and I have a blast. All of the guys in the group are old friends, except one guy that we picked up for trumpet a couple of years back. We play a lot of gigs in K.C., and we get around to Lawrence and Topeka every now and then. I hope we'll be able to keep at it until I'm as old Julia."

Ronni smiled and fumbled for something to say. "So I guess if I need someone to help me track down leads or read over my dissertation, you might be able to bail me out again, huh?" She laughed out loud, then looked down at the table top, feeling awkward. What was she getting herself into?

Ronni jumped as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw a call from Charles on the display. She frowned before she meant to, then recovered her smile.

"That's Charles," she said. "I should call him back so he won't be worried."

Pete nodded. "The little room over there to the side is a bit quieter if you want to take it in there. I'll check the radar and make sure that we're cleared for take-off." He smiled again, but Ronni noticed that his dimple didn't make an appearance this time. She felt a twinge of guilt.

"Thanks." She set aside the phone to rummage through her purse, and then she pulled out a wad of crumpled 1's and 5's. "Dinner's on me," she said brightly, "as my thanks for your help."

Pete raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? This was my idea."

"Definitely. I really do appreciate your help." She hesitated a moment, feeling as if she should say something a bit more eloquent, but then her phone buzzed in her hand – Charles again. She scooted quickly out of the booth. She smiled briefly at Pete and walked toward the side room, lifting the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey!" Charles said. "Are you okay? I just heard there was a pretty big storm moving through the area."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ronni said. "I stopped to get a burger with Donna's brother, but I'll be heading back that way as soon as the storm clears up."

"Okay, no rush – I'm still at study group."

Ronni prickled. "Hope you're learning lots," she said. Her voice sounded snippy even to her, and she winced.

"Yeeeah. It's a good group." He paused a moment. "Hey, I hate to say it, but I need to break our dinner date tomorrow. We're going to pull an extra session because that big exam in Administrative Law is on Tuesday. Sorry to bail, really, but you understand, right?"

Ronni clenched her teeth. She wanted to tell him that she didn't understand, that she had taken the night off of work specifically to be with him, but she decided not to start any drama.

"Yeah," she said. "I understand. Guess I'll call you tomorrow morning to fill you in on my interview."

"Okay, sounds good. Stay safe!"

Ronni started to say goodbye, then realized that the call had already cut out. She took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. Then she went back into the other room to grab her stuff. She hoped that the storm had moved on, because she was really ready to go home. It suddenly felt like work to put one foot in front of the other.

Pete smiled a greeting. "The storm's passed. Ready to go?"

Ronni nodded and smiled gratefully. "Thanks Pete. I don't know what I would have done without your help today."

"No problem," he said. "I'm glad to help."

They pulled on their jackets and headed towards the door. "Do you happen to have any plans tomorrow? Donna's going to be coming to my gig, and I'm sure she'd love to have your company." He opened the door for Ronni, and she stepped past him into the dark.

Ronni hesitated. "Well, I do need to go get my car at some point, but I don't have anything else going on."

"Great. Maybe you can even convince Julia's nurse to let her come along, too." He opened the passenger door on the car for Ronni.

Ronni's jaw dropped, and she stood staring. "Julia? She's 108 years old! I think she might be past her concert days."

Pete smiled again, and this time the dimple returned. "You might be right, but I got to thinking that the music might jog her memory. Plus, I know she'd really enjoy it, and we could take her out for a little dinner or some coffee afterwards, if she's up for it."

Ronni laughed as she scooted into the car. Pete closed the door and went around to the driver's side. After he'd gotten into his seat behind the wheel, Ronni looked over and smiled.

"I'll see what I can do," she said. "Sounds like it could be a lot of fun."

CHAPTER 4 by Elaine Greywalker

Ronni woke up and gazed blearily at the ceiling. For a minute she wondered where she was and then remembered the drive home through the rain with Pete beside her. His constant grinning was definitely Cheshire Cat stuff. Although she could probably get used to it.

"Ow!" She put a finger gingerly on the top of her head. There was a tender spot. Then she remembered hitting her head on the car door frame as she got out. Through the bedroom door, she heard a clarinet softly running scales. Her cell rang. She sat up and plucked it from the bedside table. She looked at the number, didn't recognize it, and answered it anyway.

"Hello."

"This is Carl at Casey Oil and Lube. Wondering when you're going to get your car. We're kinda busy and need the space."

"My car is in a public parking lot!"

"Uh, no. It's not. I can call a tow for you. We've got a guy ..."

"No! Don't tow it! I'll take care of it."

"Okay. But if it isn't out of here by 5, it's off to the impound."

Ronni thought about yelling some snide remark describing his compassion toward society and then caught herself. She needed time to figure out what to do, and yelling might make him change the deadline.

"Okay," she muttered and hung up. She punched the keys for Charles.

She listened to ringing on the other end.

"This is Charles. Leave a message and I'll get back to you ..."

She hung up. As a boyfriend he was getting to be pretty useless. The clarinet playing from the next room got louder and more melodious. She recognized Get Happy from yesterday.

Clutching the phone with both hands, she leaned forward on the bed.

"Donna?" The clarinet playing stopped. She got up, opened the door, and moved through the living room between the low table and couch toward the kitchen. It was more of a kitchenette, fitted into a corner of the apartment with a counter overhang long enough for two bar stools. Pete was standing near the sink, a clarinet close to his lips. He lowered his hands slightly and smiled.

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

Pete was shaved and neatly dressed in a loose green tee over distressed black jeans. She became sharply aware of the thinness of her tee shirt and pajama pants. Should have slung on a sweater or something, she thought.

"Hi. Where's Donna?"

"Class." He stood the clarinet gently on its bell next to the sink. He picked up a tray she hadn't noticed. It was filled with what looked like breakfast.

"Where'd you get that tray?"

"Waved a magic wand." He smiled that blinding smile, and Ronni felt relaxed yet apprehensive.

"Breakfast in bed?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Uh, no. The counter will be fine."

He shrugged. "Your loss." He placed the tray down on the bar end of the counter and adjusted the two bar stools. Then he gave a theatrical bow.

She laughed. What a charmer! She sat at the counter and looked down at the tray: coffee, grilled cheese, and frozen blueberries defrosting into a bed of milk.

"Wasn't sure if you wanted lunch or breakfast, so I made both."

"Great. Thanks. This is ... lunch?"

"Yeah." He sat beside her. "It's nearly noon."

She hopped off the stool, stood stiffly at attention. Then she noticed Pete and folded her arms over her chest.

"No wonder the repair guy called! I've got to get my car, talk to Julia, run to the library ..."

"Whoa! Whoa! I've been to the library. We have another appointment with Julia in a few hours. And I don't think there's really anything wrong with your car."

"It doesn't run! ... Where's Donna?"

Pete stepped back, his face dropping into a smooth mask. "She's at class."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I'm not really awake yet."

Pete gave her his famous soft grin. "Drink your coffee. We've got time."

"No. We don't." She picked up the mug of coffee and headed for her room. She turned. Pete was still watching.

"Wait."

She hesitated.

"Just a second. I had a thought about your car. Did you get a bill yet?"

She thought a bit, taking a sip of coffee.

"I saw one on the desk, but he never gave it to me."

"He wanted to charge you more. If the car was in the bay, how did it get there if it doesn't start? It must start some times."

She nodded and sipped again.

"Lube and oil places don't do very complex work. My brother worked in a shop for awhile. Sells parts now. It's probably your starter."

"My starter?"

"Old Saturns – any old car, really – can have starter engine issues. The starter cranks the engine. If the battery is okay but the starter isn't, the car will start sometimes. The easiest part to replace is the battery — something they're good at in a lube and oil place. Starters not so much."

She let this percolate through her brain while she sipped again.

"So my car might start?"

He nodded.

"But it might still be broken?"

He smiled.

"Okay. Let's give it a shot and see if I can get my car without a tow. I tried Charles earlier, and he isn't answering. Can you give me a ride?"

"No problem!"

As Pete drove along, Ronni munched the grilled cheese, wrapped in a paper towel.

"Thanks for the sandwich."

Her cell rang.

"Ronni," she said. Then listened, the sandwich on her lap. "Uh huh. What? How did ... No! I don't! I'll be there in an hour." She hung up and turned to Pete. "Julia's missing. She wasn't in her room at lunch, and they can't find her anywhere. Asked if she was with me!"

"Maybe her son picked her up?"

Ronni shook her head. "She doesn't have any living children in the area. The only relative is some great-nephew in Richmond, Virginia." She took a bite of the sandwich.

"So, they called you?"

"To say they cancelled the appointment. I'm going anyway. There must be something I can do."

"There probably isn't. Anyway, they might accuse you of over-exciting her with all your questions," Pete said.

"It's not my fault she's gone! Poor Julia! I hope she's okay."

"She's a fighter. She'll pull through."

Pete pulled into the repair shop parking lot and switched off the car. Through the plate glass windows they could see Carl on the phone behind an old steel desk. The bay doors were up. One bay was empty. The other was filled with two repair guys, a car on a lift, and an older gentleman in gray suit pants, a white shirt, and blue tie. They were all looking at some greasy, unidentifiable part.

Ronni shoved the last bite into her mouth and mumbled something as she pointed at her car.

"Do you have keys?" said Pete.

Ronni nodded, grabbed her bag and files, and flung open the door.

Her first instinct was to yell at the repair guy. Her second to fling the paper towel at him. Instead, she stomped over to her car and tried the door. She turned her head.

"Hey! It's not even locked!" she yelled at the big glass window. Carl ignored her, still talking on the phone. The men in the bay glanced over and then quickly went back to looking at the greasy part.

"Arrrgghh!" Ronni growled. She pulled open the door, flopped inside, and threw her bags and files onto the other seat. She put her key in the ignition. There was a strange grinding noise, and then the car started up. She smiled. A shadow appeared at her left. It was Pete. He stood with his hands in his pockets, grinning. He mouthed something.

She lowered the window.

"I don't trust it," she said. "I'm taking it straight home."

Pete shrugged. "I'll follow you."

Ronni looked up at him for a minute, and then she, too, shrugged. She pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic, glanced in the rear view mirror, and saw Carl running out of the office. Ooops! She had forgotten to pay him. I'll call in a credit card number when I get home, she thought. Too late now.

Back at the apartment they sat on barstools, each with a steaming cup of black tea. The coffee was gone. Outside it was gray and windy. The storm door rattled its catch.

She had called Carl. He wanted to charge her extra for storage. Pete had changed his mind.

They had been sitting silently for a few minutes, Pete texting while patiently waiting for Ronni to decide what she was going to do next.

Ronni took sips between rolling her shoulders and gazing dully into nothing.

"I'm sorry," she said at last. Pete stopped texting.

"About what?"

"Being a little harsh. I've got a lot going on right now - what with the dissertation, the job, my mom ..."

"That is a lot." He slipped the phone into his pocket.

Ronni nodded. "It is. I can't decide on a proposal for my dissertation. Even I am beginning to think it'll never get done. My mom has some kind of strange high blood pressure. She keeps ending up in the emergency room."

"That's rough."

She sighed. "I don't find out about it unless I ask her directly or happen to drop by at the right time. I went in with her once. It was horrible. It was like she was dying, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it."

Suddenly Ronni's eyes filled with tears and began running down her cheeks. Pete jumped up and snatched some tissues from a box. He held a tip close to the corner of one eye and gently blotted it. She took the remaining tissues from his hand and blew her nose.

"On top of all that, something's not right at work. Strange conversations behind closed doors. The till coming up short. Weird deliveries after closing. I don't know! I just don't know." She shook her head.

"What you need is a break. How about ..."

The outside door flew open and Charles marched in. He stopped, staring at the scene of Ronni crying and Pete standing over her, his arm around her shoulders.

He put the stack of books he was carrying down carefully on the couch. Then he straightened up.

Ronni held the crumbled tissues in front of her face. Pete was somehow standing across the counter from her now. He stretched out a hand toward Charles.

"Hi, guy," Pete said.

"Hello," said Charles in a flat voice. Pete dropped his arm.

"Oh, Charles!" said Ronni. She got up and moved toward him, intending to rush into his arms. She tripped slightly just before getting there and slammed into him.

Charles was tall and solid. He caught her with barely an indication of movement. Ronni snuggled into him. He clasped her as if she were a Ming vase, keeping her off his perfectly-pressed shirt. He looked over at Pete.

"What's going on?" Charles said.

"Just here for the night. Donna's my sister. Leaving tomorrow. Got a gig tonight."

"A gig?"

"Yeah. I play in a jazz band."

Ronni sobbed loudly. "My car's broken ... I'll never get my dissertation done ... Mom's dying!" It all came out in a crumpled rush as she pressed her face toward his chest. He pushed her out at arm's length. Ronni was used to this. He let her slowly down onto the couch.

"I'm sure it's not that bad! Got any coffee?"

Ronni shook her head.

"Thanks for lunch, Ron," Pete said. "Gotta run. Band practice. Look-" He pulled two tickets out of a pocket and placed them on her lap. "Why don't you and Charlie come by for the show tonight?" He glanced over at Charles. "If you can."

Ronni looked down at the tickets.

"Thanks, uh ..." Charles said.

"Pete."

He nodded. "I can get it from here, 'guy,' and it's Charles, not Charlie."

"I'll just get my things," Pete said. He packed his clarinet carefully in its case and then picked up another one that Ronni had stumbled over. Charles held the door as Pete maneuvered his way out.

"Later." Pete shot a look at Ronni. She shrugged.

"Bye," said Charles as he closed the door. He glanced over at Ronni, still snuffling into the mess of tissues, as he headed for the kitchen.

He opened and shut cupboards. "Geez. You really are out of coffee. I was going to get some studying done, but I can see that won't be possible now."

Ronni crushed the tissues into a tight ball, dropping it and the tickets beside her on the couch.

"Sorry, Charles. I have a headache, and things just kind of built up, you know."

"Yeah. I do. C'mon. I'll buy you a cup of coffee. You can keep me company while I read. I've got to review before moot court and group."

Ronni stood up.

"You're going like that?" Charles said.

Ronni looked down. Her shirt was a bit rumpled but okay. Then she realized her face was probably a mess. She shook her head.

"Can you wait a minute? I'll get cleaned up."

"Hurry," said Charles. Ronni dashed for the bathroom.

CHAPTER 5 by Nan Plum

They entered the coffee shop, and Ronni made a beeline to the back while Charles ordered coffees.

Two steaming mugs in hand, Charles walked toward the table Ronni had chosen. He frowned at Ronni, and she smiled back at him.

"Veronica, you know how I feel about sitting with my back to people." Charles glanced around and slowly placed the mugs on the table.

She giggled and took a sip of coffee. "You're so silly. All this comes from a book you read when you were a kid. The one where that gunfighter always sat with his back against the wall so no one could sneak up on him, and then one time, he broke this rule and got shot in the back. That one, right? You're no Wild Bill Hickok, you know."

"I know that," Charles retorted. "It's the principle of the matter. I like to see everything going on in a room. It allows me to get the lay of the land and the people. That gives me ample opportunity to set the play up the way that will make me the most victorious."

"You make it sound more like war than dining out, Charles." She took a sip, frowned, and looked into the mug.

"Life is war," Charles snapped back. "If anything, that is one truth Law School has taught me. To be successful in war, one must be an avid student of Sun Tzu's Art of War. Which of course, I happen to be. Now be a good girl and give me my chair."

Ronni pointed at the mug as she stood, circling around the end of the table without lifting the mug from it. "What's this? I thought you were getting me coffee."

"I saw how you were when I got to your apartment," Charles answered as he slid into the chair that she had vacated. "You don't need coffee. You need enlightenment. It's peppermint chai with two sugars, your favorite non-coffee drink. Now drink up."

She took another sip and nodded. "You're right, as always. The chai hits the spot. Thanks."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, sipping. She noticed that each of his sips was almost exactly thirteen seconds after the previous, by the clock on the wall above the bar. He was so meticulous.

"So your car ... "

He took a sip before finishing his statement, and Ronni finished the sentence for him. "... is fine now. It might be the starter and probably should be fixed, but I'll deal with it later."

Charles swallowed and raised his eyebrows. "No, Veronica, I was going to say your car was Donna's lame attempt to hook you up with her brother. And you should make fixing your car a priority before you get stranded. That could happen somewhere worse than at a business during daylight hours."

"Me and Pete?" she asked, going back to his first comment. "There is no me and Pete. He's nice, but not my type. Pete was just helping me out of a jam."

"Which Donna miraculously could not help you with at all. I'm no fool. Donna does not like me. She never did. I'm smarter than she is, and I can see right through her. And it's 'Pete and I,' not 'Pete and me.'"

"Sometimes you're too smart for your own good." Ronni emptied her mug and pushed it to the outside edge of the table. "Trust me. Nothing is going on between Pete and I."

"I trust you," Charles said. "I just don't trust Donna. The total dislike is mutual between us. By the way, 'me' would be used as the object of the preposition 'between', not 'I'."

"Whatever, Charles. Can we please change the subject?"

"I concur completely," he answered, emphasizing concur. "Do me a favor and stay away from Pete. He's a loser. He's never going anywhere with his life, and I don't want him bringing you down with him."

"What makes you think he's a loser?" Ronni tapped a fingernail on the table and frowned at him. "After all, he is Donna's brother."

"Because I'm a winner," Charles replied. "Twenty years from now, you and I will be living in a beautiful home in an upscale suburb of a major city, while Pete will be stuck somewhere in a small, dinky apartment in some nowhere town doing some nothing job. You know me – I can see twenty moves ahead. I am rarely ever wrong. Both of us will soon complete advanced degrees. Guys like him weigh down stars like us."

He finished his chai and pushed the mug next to the other one at the edge of the table. "Tell me about your interview."

Ronni recounted the event but skipped the details of the awkward moments with Pete. She did, however, relate her frustration at Pete taking over the interview. "I only got two real good tidbits: Julia confirmed that the news article on her was false, and she remembered the murder of a Bill the Bootlegger."

Charles laughed. "What kind of idiot calls himself 'Bill the Bootlegger'? They were already targets at the time, between the cops enforcing the prohibition laws and different mobsters of the era. Something smells fishy about that tale."

"So what do you think about all of it, Charles?"

He leaned forward. "I can't say for sure. She is 108. Her memories could be blending together. She could be misremembering. Maybe she has a repressed memory or two. She's losing her mind. Or she's leading you on because she's lonely and needs someone to talk to. Possibly it could be all of the above, each to a greater or lesser degree."

"You are such a lawyer." She added an unladylike snort.

"I am at the top of my class right now," Charles replied with a beam of confidence. "When I graduate, I will be one of the best and then THE best in the business. And I'm going to have you by my side all the way."

"So what do you suggest I do?"

"If I was in charge, I'd go in with a string of hard-hitting questions and would not relent until I got my answers ... but Veronica, you are not me. Not by any stretch. Be you. Talk to her as you would talk to your family. You'll get what you want."

"Only one problem. She's disappeared."

Charles sat back in his chair, his mouth sagging slightly. "That is not good, but not necessarily bad. Best case scenario: doctors signed her out, and the papers were misfiled."

"But why would they call me?"

"They are covering their tails in case of a lawsuit," he said. "They are just checking all their little boxes off to make sure they are safe. Unfortunately, the best is not the most likely or logical. The two of you only met yesterday. No lawyer could win that case."

"What's the worse case? No, wait. What's the second-best case scenario?"

"It's not likely, either. A family member picked her up. Remember, she is at the manor. From what you said, Julia is self-sufficient. Whoever put her there was trying to get rid of her without suffering any guilt. As long as she's taken care of, I imagine they could live their life without the burden of guilt."

Ronni twisted her mouth and shook her head. "Then why not leave her there?"

Charles shrugged. "Senior assisted living gets expensive ... or maybe they just took her on an outing and didn't go through the proper channels. "

"No," Ronni sighed. "That can't be it. Her only relative lives hours away. So ... what's the worse-case scenario?"

"She was kidnapped," Charles answered.

"That's not funny."

"I was not trying to be, Veronica. Again it is not likely because she is of no value, and kidnapping is all about value. Unless she had knowledge of something valuable, I doubt she would be worth anything. In fact, you're probably the only person in the world who has any interest in this woman. Even then, it's only because you're desperate for the grade."

Ronni bit her lip and stared at him. "So what do we do now?"

"We do nothing," Charles said. "I have moot court and a study group to make, both of which I will be late getting to because of your drama." He pulled out his keys and slid them towards her. "Take my car to Topeka and do some digging. When you are done, I would appreciate it if you bring back my car in one piece, no dings or scratches added."

She sighed, stood, leaned over the table, and kissed his cheek. It was his way of being nice while also pouring on the guilt, and she was used to it. "Thank you. I'll see you when I get back."

His phone rang as she left the table, but she managed to hear most of what Charles said.

"It's taken care of. Good! She's on her way. Make sure you pick me up in five minutes. I do have a schedule to keep. You better find this jewel or there will be hell to pay."

As she left the coffee shop she could hear him say, "It's your move now." For a brief moment, she wondered what he was talking about but decided to focus on the task at hand – where was Julia? Time to start digging.

CHAPTER 6 byA. M. Coffee and BlackRose

Ronni arrived in Topeka within the hour and rushed across the manor parking lot, through the door, and finally stood in front of the nurse's station, breathing heavily. "Where can I find Nurse Lydia?" she wheezed.

The nurse looked up, eyes widening as she took in Ronni's disheveled appearance. "I'll page her for you."

Before the nurse could lift the receiver, Lydia came around the corner, took one look at Ronni, and began to rant. "You know before you came around here Julia was just fine ..."

Ronni looked up, shocked, and opened her mouth to speak.

Nurse Lydia folded her arms across her chest. "No. Just leave. I don't want to hear it."

"Just give me something to go on. Anything would help," Ronni pleaded.

Lydia made a harrumph noise deep in her throat. "When the police brought her here to the Manor about fifteen years ago, they say they found her sitting on a bench in Holliday Park."

Ronni turned abruptly, leaving Lydia's rising voice behind her, and ran back to her car.

Inside the car, Ronni fished for her cell phone and called Pete's number, but the standard, "Please leave a message ... " made her roll her eyes. She left him a simple voicemail: "I think I know where she is."

Ronni slid her phone closed and headed for the highway. She didn't want to top the speed limit, but even so Charles' car leaned a bit as she swerved onto westbound Huntoon. Finally, she spotted Café Holliday and slowed down to scan the park across the street. Sure enough, she spotted Julia sitting on a park bench all alone.

She turned left onto Taylor, parked her car, and proceeded towards Julia with caution.

"Julia ...?"

Julia looked up and smiled. "Hi Sweetie!"

Ronni swiped at a wet spot on the bench, sat down beside Julia, and smiled back.

"Julia, why did you leave the Manor?"

Julia looked down into her lap and shook her head slowly. "When I was younger I would have given anything for a sister, as my mother was working and my father was never around. I used to watch my mother leave every morning, and my dad used to spend all his time under the floor boards. I never knew what he was doing until I was much older."

"Julia, are you ready to go home?" Ronni asked, but silently thumbed her recorder on just in case. She watched Julia's face.

Julia leaned back and closed her eyes and hummed a few bars of "Get Happy". She rocked back and forth and slapped at her knee as she smiled and hummed.

"Do you know right there?" She pointed across the street at Café Holliday "That used to be the one and only Mike's Mirage." Julia smiled as if she were recalling something beautiful. "I remember when I first left home. My father was mad at me. My mother was distraught over something that my father did – what exactly, I didn't know at the time. My father simply told me that if I was going to work for Mike, I wasn't welcome back home. I was disappointed, but I was old enough to make up my own mind. I think I was in my twenties when I first started workin' for Mike. It was an easy job, if I must say so. I went from cleaning the saloon to actually getting up there with the party-goers and performing. I remember the first time I met Billy the Bootlegger. See – I used to go down to this old freight depot by the railroad, and there he was, loading those kegs onto the back of an old beat-up Model A pickup ..." Julia threw back her head and laughed and then wiped her tears. "Girl, that pickup was a mess, let me tell you." And she continued to laugh.

"I never really paid much attention to him until the night he showed up at the saloon. That's when we first really laid eyes on one another. He was a strong, young-looking man with arms so large all of us women could hardly wait until he arrived. Between them arms and shoulders of his was the most wonderful chest to lay your head on. We could just imagine him keeping us warm at night. It would sho' be much better than that ol' furnace in that old storage room ..."

A car drove south on Taylor, and Julia watched it until it disappeared. Finally, she smiled and said, "I'm ready to go home now."

Ronni flicked off the recorder and helped Julia stand. As Julia straightened slowly, Ronni thought Julia must have been fairly tall in her day. Julia hummed her tune all the way to the car. Ronni secured her in the seat, closed the door carefully, and circled the car to the driver's side door, glancing north towards Topeka High in the distance to make sure no traffic was coming her way.

Ronni pulled up in front of the manor and helped Julia stand. They walked in, Julia still smiling and humming the same tune. Nurse Lydia intercepted them and grasped Julia's elbow firmly.

"Thanks for bringing her back, but you must leave."

Ronni shook her head, but this time Julia spoke up. "Lydia, hush your mouth – this young lady was kind enough to bring me home. Now move outta the way."

Leaving Lydia with her mouth open wide behind them, Ronni escorted Julia to her room. "Let me take your coat. You can sit right there. Are you warm enough? Do you want that throw over your legs?"

Julia nodded and pulled the crocheted blanket up to her waist.

"Okay," Ronni said, "I'll be right back after I move my car. I can't leave it in front of the main door to the Manor."

Luckily, a parking spot close to the Manor was open, and she pulled into it and grabbed her recorder. Once back inside, Ronni walked down the hall to Julia's apartment, but she suddenly stopped because she heard Lydia talking on her cell phone around the corner ahead of her.

"Look, I told you Ronni just came through the door with Julia. What do you mean?"

Someone was giving Lydia a good chewing, as Ronni could hear an agitated voice from the phone, but the sound decreased, and she could hear quick footsteps down the hallway away from her. She thought she could hear Lydia mention Charles' name. Ronni frowned but continued to Julia's apartment.

Ronni knocked on Julia's door and pushed it open. "Julia, it's me, Ronni ..."

Julia wasn't in the living room, so she walked to the bedroom and pushed the door open.

"Julia?" The woman stood bent over a bedside stand with the drawer open part-way.

"What's wrong?" Ronni asked.

"I can't find my key!"

"What key, Julia?"

Julia blew out a frustrated breath. "I wanted to show you the engagement ring I received the night Billy the Bootlegger proposed to me. Oh, did I mention that my Billy was a colored man?"

Ronni turned on her recorder at the words engagement ring. "Where did you have your key last?"

Julia pushed the drawer shut and turned towards the door. Ronni followed her back into the living room.

Julia walked to a writing desk, and Ronni suddenly noticed that it was a golden-toned antique 1940′s burled walnut lady's desk. A matching leather-padded chair was turned away from the desk, and an unusual padded leather footrest that covered the center of the desk's stretcher was underneath.

Julia pulled out the chair, sat slowly in it, and pulled open the desk drawer and stared inside. Ronni drew near to the desk. She reached out to finger the top of the desk, which also had three sections of black leather covering its top.

"How beautiful it is."

Julia looked up from the desk. "What is, honey?"

Amazed at its beauty, Ronni rubbed her hand across a well-crafted piece of the desk. "I love this piece. I have always had a fascination for antiques and collectibles."

"Oh, this old thing?" Julia returned to rummaging around in the desk drawer. "I cannot find that key. I know I put it in here." Ronni could see that she was growing frantic. "I never take it out of this drawer. Even when I open the box I always place it back in here. Right here in this drawer on the right side. I always do."

Ronni patted her shoulder to try to calm her down. "I'll help you look for it, Julia. Why don't I make you some tea first?"

Julia nodded. "All right. That would be nice. I need to warm up after my little trip outside."

She stood, and Ronni led her to the nearest chair and helped her sit.

"Here's your throw." Julia nodded at Ronni, leaned back in the chair, and closed her eyes.

Ronni glanced at her and then stepped into the kitchen area. She rummaged in the cabinets until she found the carton of tea bags and then she ran some water into the cast-iron tea pot, turned on a burner on the electric range, and sat the pot on it. She walked back into the living room. Julia still had her eyes closed.

"Julia, would you mind telling me more about Billy?"

Julia stretched a little and sighed. Her face took on a faraway look. "Billy was a sweetheart, and it was forbidden for us to be together because he was a man of color. We used to sneak off and go places and sit under the stars and laugh. I use to love to hear that man laugh. On most nights he would come down to the Saloon just to enjoy some good ol' moonshine. On some nights I use to sing and play my clarinet to my heart's content, and he would be right there, keeping time by patting his knee with that big ol' hand of his. Then one day my world came crashing down around me." She leaned back and closed her eyes again.

The teapot whistled, and Ronni jumped up to tend to it. She found two teacups in the center cabinet. She added sugar to hers and a splash of cream to Julia's, remembering how Julia took hers from the first visit. She headed back into the living room, placing Julia's cup on the table in front of her.

"Oh, thank you." She took a sip, smiled, and continued. "One night while I was up on the stage performing, a young lady walked in. She was beautiful. She had her hair pulled up into a bun. She walked in like she owned the place. Once my session was over, I walked over to the bar, and the bartender pushed a jar of moonshine in my direction. I took a sip and then approached this stranger. She had an air about her that was rather off. I smiled at her and introduced myself. She told me her name was Rosie. She went on to explain that she had just ridden the train in from Chicago, and she needed a place to stay. I told her I would talk to Mike and see what I could do. Rosie hung around all night and flirted with all the available men. I think she had a thing for Mike, but she never made it obvious." She took a sip of her tea and continued.

"I'll say, give or take a week, maybe even more, Rosie began to open up to me, saying she never really knew who her father was, but her mother was a well-known scarlet woman in Chicago. She said she left Chicago because she was tired of her mother's reputation reflecting on her, and so she packed up and left. What made her come to Kansas is something you would have to ask her yourself, but she's dead now. She died at the tender young age of 78. Later, I found out some years later, after Rosie's disappearance that she was my sister, and how I found out was through my mother who told me before she passed over. My mother told me that my father would spend his time in Chicago every other weekend, holed up in some speakeasy with some whore named Adeline. Adeline had a daughter named Rosie. The reason my mother had never told me this story was because I never returned home. I didn't even make it back home for my father's funeral, but something pulled me to my mother's bedside instead." Julia took a last sip of tea, stood up and stretched. "Come on, baby, and help me find this key so I can open this here box."

Ronni drained her cup and stood. "Where should I start looking?"

Julia waved her hand at Ronni. "Maybe I left it in the bedroom. Why not try there?"

Ronni walked into the bedroom and opened a jewelry chest, not touching any of the items inside but peering carefully at the contents.

She could see nothing but a variety of costume jewelry, mostly necklaces and bracelets that she might have expected to have seen around the neck of a '20′s flapper, and as she closed the lid, she heard Julia say, "I know I ain't got the Alzheimer's. Oh, Ronni, I knew that my sister Rosie was in that room when she woke up so startled. It kind of makes me wonder now, were the men that killed my Billy there to kill me also? Was it my sister who stopped me from being killed that night? I always wondered where she had run off to. I have no idea. Maybe whoever it was ran off with my sister to get at me. Just maybe they were looking for the jewels Billy had given me just a few short weeks before."

Ronni shook her head and pulled open the top drawer of the chest, lifted an embroidered hanky from the top of a pile of hankies, and there it was underneath – a key! She let out a little squeal and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Julia! I think I found it!" She raced into the living room and dropped it into Julia's lap. "Is this the key?"

Julia squinted her eyes and said, "Thank you, God." She picked up the key and held it to her bosom. "Ronni, you're a lifesaver. Now help an old lady to her bedroom so I can show you what lies in the box."

Ronni helped Julia to the bedroom and into a chair. "Now look over there in the closet on the top shelf, and get that hat box." Ronni went to the closet as she was instructed. "Now be careful, because it is heavy."

Ronni slid open the closet door and looked at the many hat boxes inside. "Which one?" Ronni asked.

Julia laughed. "Sorry. The third one from the left."

Ronni counted and then carefully removed the large hat box, placing it on the bed where Julia could reach it. It tilted slightly, and Ronni steadied it. Julia removed the lid and pulled out a black flapper hat. Julia smiled and said, "I remember when we used to bob our hair and wear cloché caps ..." Julia laughed and dug deeper into the hat box. She next pulled out a green crocodile-skin traveling jewelry case. She smiled in the direction of Ronni and then she inserted the key. Julia opened the jewelry box, and she picked up something small, handling it with delicacy. After looking up, she beckoned Ronni over. "The day before my Billy was killed he proposed to me. He told me he had the ring especially made just for me because I was his special girl."

Julia handed the ring to Ronni, who gasped and held it gingerly in her outstretched palm. Embedded in the center was a deep-green emerald stone, flanked by two other triangular emerald stones surrounded by tiny diamonds.

"Is this real?" Ronni finally pulled her eyes away from the ring and looked at Julia, who smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"Baby, I really don't know. All I know is the man I loved and was looking to being my life-long husband presented it to me." Ronni handed the ring back to Julia, and then she noticed the other jewelry in the box.

Ronni noticed a separate closed compartment at the bottom of the jewelry case, but before she could question Julia about it, she heard her cell phone chime. She did not want to answer. Hesitantly she turned, saying, "Please excuse me, Julia."

Julia dismissed Ronni with a wave of her hand and closed and locked her jewelry box, and Ronni set it carefully on the bed before she walked into the living room.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

Ronni cleared her throat. "Charles?"

She could hear him suck his teeth. "Who else do you think it would be? Do you know how late it is?"

Ronni looked at the time on her phone. Well after six. "I'm so sorry. I got carried away talking to Mrs. Stanford."

Charles' voice interrupted her. "I need my car now. I had to catch a cab home."

"I'm so sorry. I'll be home in an hour." The line went dead.

Ronni walked back into Julia's bedroom, staring at the phone for a moment. Julia sat quietly, with her head bowed slightly forward, so Ronni spoke softly. "Julia, I'm sorry, but I have to leave now. There's an emergency I must attend to."

Julia slowly raised her head and peered at Ronni. "Well, before you leave can you place this-here box back on the shelf?"

"Of course. Thank you for showing me that beautiful, beautiful ring." She placed the box on the shelf and turned to Julia. "You still have your key, right?"

Julia unfurled a wrinkled hand and smiled. The key was nestled safely in her palm.

Once at the car she glanced at her phone again and saw that she had a voicemail. She started the car and gave it time to warm up while she listened to the message. It was Pete wondering if she was still coming to the gig. He was also curious to know if she was bringing Julia along with her. Ronni did not make any attempt to return Pete's call. She did not want to turn down his invitation, although she had to. Nor did she want to hear the disappointment in his voice over the phone.

Back at her apartment she found Charles sitting on the front stoop, his face a study in fury. Ronni adjusted her purse on her shoulder, sighed, and leaned in to kiss Charles on his lips. Charles pulled away and stood. "I absolutely requested that you return my car to me as soon as you were done."

She stepped back and raised a finger in protest. "No, you did not request that I return your car as soon as I was done with it, but instead, and I quote, Charles, what you was said was when you are done, I would appreciate that you bring my car back in one piece, no dings, or scratches added." Ronni tossed the keys into his lap. She pushed her way up the stairs and opened the door to her apartment as Charles followed. "Now who's being too smart for their own good?"

Charles placed his keys on the counter top, stepped into the kitchen, and pulled a small glass from the kitchen cabinet and a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator.

"I need to change. Be right back." She headed for the bedroom.

"Would you care to join me in a drink of juice?" she heard him call through a partially-closed door.

Ronni returned from her bedroom where she had quickly changed into her pajamas. "If it's not too much to ask, I would appreciate a glass of orange juice, Charles," she replied.

"Okay, Veronica, I apologize. I was a little hard on you, and I usually am when it comes down to my vehicle." Charles carried both glasses into the living room where Ronni sat and placed them on the coffee table in front of them.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure how to take that, Charles. You're being a tad bit unpredictable right now." She flicked on the television to MTV, knowing that Charles felt any program on television that would not educate the mind was useless.

"So how was your visit with Mrs. Stanford?" Ronni prompted him. He grimaced at the screen.

Charles snapped his fingers. "Okay, how was your visit with Mrs. Stanford?"

"Do you really want to know, Charles, or are you playing around with me?"

"Yes, I want to know."

"Great. First of all, I should let you know where she was when I found her."

Charles' eyebrows rose with curiosity. "Yes, where did you find her?"

"She was sitting on a bench in Holliday Park across from Café Holliday, which used to be the location of the speakeasy where she worked. Later she asked me to take her home."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, and do you know what was most amazing? I was at her home the first time I interviewed her, and I hadn't noticed the amazing antiques and collectibles she had acquired over the years. She also had this beautiful jewelry box in which she had stored the ring she had received from Billy the night before he died."

Ronni could see that Charles had become more fidgety. "Billy gave Mrs. Stanford a ring? What type of ring was it?"

Ronni drew back from Charles. "What does it matter what type of ring it was? The fact is I found out who Billy was to Julia. He was her lover, the man she loved, and not only was he the man she loved, he was a black man, an African-American man."

"I understand all of that, but what about the ring? What type of ring was it?"

"Oh, Charles it was lovely." For a moment Ronni contemplated how Pete O'Neill had described both her and Julia as lovely, bringing a smile to her face.

Charles interrupted her thoughts. "And ... ?"

"Oh, and the ring has three emerald stones surrounded by a host of diamonds. It was so beautiful." Ronni hesitated. "You know I never asked where Billy got the ring from or, for that matter, how he would get such an expensive ring on the profits of a bootlegger, especially being of African American descent and during that time period. I wonder if the stones are real?"

Just then Charles sprang from the sofa, kissed Ronni quickly on the top of her head, and made a beeline for the front door. As he exited, he yelled back, "Sorry, Veronica, I forgot I have a late night study group I must attend right away. See you tomorrow."

Ronni stared at the closed door. "Yeah, I'm sure you got study group, all right."

CHAPTER 7 by Janet Jenkins Stotts

Ronni sighed with relief as she heard Charles' car accelerating out of the parking lot. Of all the things her job required of her, pretending to like Charles was the worst. At first, being back at K. U. and working at the bar had been difficult, but she had quickly adjusted to both. Her classes were more interesting than she expected, and her advisor wasn't surprised that after a bachelor's degree in criminal justice, she sought a degree in anthropology. It had, however, taken a discreet phone call from her boss to persuade him to let her pursue her research into how society's attitudes towards women affected the Prohibition movement. Sometimes, it was hard to remember what she had said and to whom she had said it. Each story was basically the same but tweaked to appeal to the listener. Ronni wasn't always a good liar, but it was just one of the skills she had learned in her three-month crash-course training for this job. However, Charles was a different matter.

It had taken over three months for him to notice her. During those three months, she had had to abandon her well-cut, professional wardrobe for cheap little short skirts and low-cut tops. She had even become a platinum blonde after she observed his preference for blondes. But all those efforts were nothing compared with what it took to hold on to him. She had wasted a lot of time coming up with legitimate excuses for not sleeping with him, but after a brief and awkward attempt on their first date, he had accepted her cover story about "trouble down there" and never tried to get her into bed again. He seemed happy with kisses and cuddling as long as she was willing to stroke his ego non-stop. While she was relieved at first, the relationship was turning into the Chinese water torture with each baseless compliment and self-depreciatory statement wearing on her self-esteem until she became nauseous each time he called.

She had to keep reminding herself of her mission. She kept a photo of her Grandmother Johnson tucked in the corner of her mirror and forced herself to remember the painful reason she had volunteered to do this. Looking in the mirror at her cheap blonde hair and contacts, which turned her ice blue eyes into an unreal baby blue, she felt like a different person. She hated how the extra twenty pounds she had put on to seem less threatening blurred the contours of her face and the lean, athletic grace of her normal figure. She had to focus on why she was here and what she was doing, telling herself that was all that mattered.

So, why did she feel that Pete could see through all her disguises? Probably, because he wasn't stupid, like Charles. But was Charles really stupid? Lately his actions had been, well, sly. All these ridiculous "study group" meetings and the phone calls he didn't want her to hear could be something more serious than another love interest in his life. Tomorrow, she would have to find out what he was up to. It shouldn't be that difficult -after all, it was just Charles. She went to bed and slept soundly, confident that she had everything under control.

The next morning, she baked some brownies, Charles' favorite treat, to take to his apartment and soften him up. Usually, after stuffing his face with three or four sugary treats, he would get really sleepy and take a nap for at least thirty minutes. During that time, she could get a look at his cell phone to see who he had been calling. As she was leaving, her cell phone rang, and it was Julia calling. "Hi, Julia. How are you today? I'm sorry I had to run out on you yesterday, but ..."

"Hush, now, and listen carefully. I'm sure you remember Nurse Lydia. Well, she was killed today."

"What? You can't be serious! Oh, no ..."

"Now, listen, Ronni. The police say it was a hit-and-run accident, but I don't buy it. Even these old ears would have heard the squeal of brakes outside. That means – "

"Whoever it was didn't try to stop," Ronni cut in quickly. "Where are you calling from? Can anyone else hear you or listen in on your line?"

"I'm calling from the phone in my room."

"Then hang up, and grab that Jitterbug phone you have for emergencies. You know how to answer calls on it, don't you? Go into your bathroom and turn on the water. Give me the number of your Jitterbug, and I will call you back right away."

"Okay. I guess I know how to answer a call on that contraption. Let me get my glasses so I can read the number. Hold on."

After what seemed like an eternity, Julia came back on the line. "Okay, I found them over by the bed. What they were doing there, I don't know. Then I had to find that damned Jitterbug. Anyway, here's the number: 555-1342. I'm going into the bathroom. You can call me in a minute or two. It will take me that long to get there."

By this time, Ronni was in her car with a pan of warm brownies on the seat beside her. She watched the digital clock on her dashboard display slowly count out two minutes. Then, she dialed the number Julia had given her. It rang and rang, but no one answered it. Ronni waited another two minutes and tried again, but no one answered. She finally called Julia's landline again five minutes later, and a voice she didn't recognize said, "Room 354, Nurse Paula speaking. How can I help you?"

"I would like to speak to Julia, please," Ronni said with a sinking feeling.

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Stanford has had an accident. Are you a member of her family?"

"No, just a close friend. Is she seriously hurt?

"I'm sorry, but HIPPA regulations don't allow the release of that information to anyone, except those listed on her records. Her granddaughter is on the way now, and I will tell her you called."

"But she doesn't have a granddaughter living this close," Ronni sputtered.

"Nonsense. Her granddaughter is listed as her emergency contact."

"What is her granddaughter's name??"

"I'm sorry, but I don't see how that is any of your business," Nurse Paula said starchily and hung up.

By this time, Ronni had reached Charles' apartment complex, and was greeted by a totally unexpected sight. Charles was outside in his shirt sleeves, washing his car. He never washed his car; he had a standing appointment at a detailing service every month, and if it needed a wash before its scheduled appointment, he went to Eagle Car Wash and paid for their most expensive wash and wax. But here he was scrubbing away at the front of his car, and only the front of his car. He tossed the dirty water from his bucket and was heading inside when he saw her. "Oh, hi, Veronica. I – uh – I was just going to get some clean water to do the rest of the car."

Ronni was sure that hadn't been his intention, but she didn't challenge him. She needed to see his cell phone records now more than ever. So she said soothingly, "Charles, honey, I hate to see you get all wet. Why don't you come inside and have a brownie or two. I baked them just for you."

This had the desired effect. Charles put down the bucket and unlocked the door to his apartment. Ronni took the bucket from his hand and put it in the hall closet. "You just sit right down here on the couch, and I will bring you some milk to go with the brownies." She searched for a clean glass in his cluttered kitchen and ended up using a plastic one. She filled it with milk and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Goodness, sweetie, it looks like you need me to give this place a little TLC."

Charles muttered around a mouth full of brownies, "Yeah, I guess it could use a woman's touch."

Ronni picked up a long-sleeved shirt from the clothes that lay scattered throughout the apartment. Out of Charles' sight, she searched each pocket of each article of clothing she gathered, looking for his cell phone, but to no avail.

Charles called out, "These sure are great, Veronica. I'll just have another if you don't mind."

Ronni said sweetly, "Have all you like, sweetie. I can't eat them. You know I have to watch my figure." By this time, she had moved into the bedroom where she struck pay dirt. Charles' cell phone was charging on his dresser. She tiptoed back into the living room, hoping to find Charles in his typical sugar-stupor, but she was startled to see him standing over her purse with her cell phone in his hand. She walked quickly but quietly up behind him and put her arms around his chest and kissed the back of his neck. Startled, he dropped her phone and knocked her purse on the floor. "Damn it, Veronica. Look what you made me do!"

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't resist the urge to show you how much you mean to me."

"There is a time and place for everything, Veronica, and this isn't it. I wish I didn't have to run, but I don't want to be late for class."

"I thought your class started at eleven, and it's only 9:30."

"I don't have to explain everything I do to you, Veronica. You know how I hate it when you get all clingy. A man needs his space. I might just have to re-think my big surprise."

"I'm so sorry; you know how I love surprises. Tell me, pretty please." Ronni managed to choke out yet another apology. She didn't know how long she could continue groveling this way.

"Well, okay. Mother wants to meet you, so we are invited to Sunday lunch." He managed to make it sound as if she had been invited to meet the queen. He looked at her expectantly.

Ronni did her best to appear sufficiently impressed. "Oh, Charles, how lovely! What shall I wear?"

"We will discuss that tonight. You might have to buy something new. Bye." And with that, Charles left. He seemed distracted. This was the first time he had ever left her alone in his apartment. Not only that, but his cell phone was still charging in the bedroom. She locked the door and picked up her cell phone and everything that had spilled from her purse. Then, she walked quickly back to his bedroom and hung up the rest of his clothes. She was dying to see what was on his phone, but she had to have everything straightened up, just in case he returned and wondered what she had been doing. She made his bed, hating to touch his sheets which felt and smelt like they had been there way too long. Finally, she allowed herself to grab the phone and check its contents.

The first thing she checked were the names and numbers of all the calls he had made or received. She noticed one number dominated all the others – Mother. The pattern was interesting. Mother would call, and it was usually a very brief call, twenty seconds or less; probably just long enough to leave a message. Then, Charles would return the call, and these calls lasted much longer, but as far back as she could check, there was no instance in which he initiated a call to his mother without her calling first. While she scrolled through his call history, trying to guess what this pattern meant, she suddenly noticed that the number his mother called from was very similar to Julia's number. The area code and the first four numbers were exactly the same – just like in a large business, such as a nursing home. Surely, that couldn't be a coincidence? She dialed the number and waited as it rang four times. An authoritative woman's voice said, "Charles, how many times have I told you to wait for my call. Charles...?"

Ronni hung up the phone. That proved that it was Charles' mother's phone, but not where she was. Suddenly, she heard feet pounding up the stairs to the apartment, and Charles was alternately banging on the door and fumbling with the lock. Ronni erased the call quickly and completely, going beyond the simple "delete" just in time as Charles burst into the apartment. She forced a relieved smile onto her face and said, "Oh good. You came back for it. I know how paranoid you are about your phone, and I wanted to bring it to you, but I didn't know where you were."

Charles' eyes were wary, but his stance became more relaxed. "I'm not paranoid, merely careful. Why didn't you leave immediately? You know I don't like people snooping around my place."

"Oh, Charles, I never snoop," Ronni quavered. "I just wanted to surprise you after you gave me such a nice surprise. I was starting to give this place a thorough cleaning."

"About time, but I have explained to you several times why I don't want anyone in my apartment when I'm not here. So grab your purse, and let's go."

Ronni was happy to leave. She felt an increasing uneasiness over Julia's accident and the identity of her granddaughter. She knew she had to go to Topeka and try to see Julia today, but first she had to find her. Sitting in her car, she Googled both Topeka hospitals and entered them in her phone's address book. Then she called each one and asked if Julia Stanford was a patient; they both said there was no one by that name currently a patient. Ronni was relieved; that probably meant that it wasn't a serious accident. Julia was probably still at the nursing home, and she intended to see her today even if she had to... to... to what? What could she do? Ronni didn't have a plan, but she started the car and drove to the turnpike entrance. She trusted that she would figure something out between Lawrence and Topeka.

When she collected her ticket and accelerated down the ramp, her mind was still fully occupied with different scenarios she could try to gain entrance to the nursing home and see Julia. The eighteen-wheeler truck entered the turnpike behind her. The truck moved into the left hand lane and pulled up beside Ronni's car. Charles would have been proud that she noticed the truck had no logo or name displayed either on the cab or the container. He was always chiding her to be more observant. He was clueless about how much she actually observed his activities. The truck inched closer and closer to her car, gradually forcing Ronni onto the shoulder of the road. She fought to maintain control, but she was rapidly approaching an underpass and the end of the shoulder. Ronni slammed on the brakes, and the car began to fishtail wildly.

CHAPTER 8 by Stacy Spilker

For a moment the car continued its careening path before Ronni wrenched the wheel to the left. Her car shuddered to a stop inches from the bridge. She stared at the cement barrier, her mind barely noticing the red lights of the braking 18-wheeler until her passenger door was yanked open.

"Miss? MISS?"

Ronni turned her head to meet the trucker's wide-eyed gaze. Realizing paranoia and panic had been the cause of her near disaster, she forced her fingers to loosen their grasp on the steering wheel. A gasp escaped her as an aching feeling rushed into them.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. Just give me a minute," Ronni said, staring at her shaking hands and trying to will herself calm. The truck driver's next words pulled her attention back to him.

"I'm sorry. You were in my blind spot. I had no idea you were there. Thank God you're a good driver." He must have recognized her confusion. "Most people would overcorrect and swing back into oncoming traffic."

Ronni didn't respond as she let his words sink in. He was right. She had been in his blind spot. She had been driving in a panic, her worry over Julia the only thing on her mind.

"Are you all right to drive, or do you want me to call someone for you?" The man's words were kind, and Ronni felt a surge of guilt.

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I should have been paying more attention. You've been very kind. I just need a couple minutes to calm down." She managed a smile for the man as he closed her door and headed back to his truck.

'Get it together, Ronni,' she mentally scolded. Taking a final deep breath, Ronni pulled back onto the highway. Getting to Julia was the most important thing.

Ronni didn't recognize the girl at the Manor's reception desk, but she didn't have any problem understanding Ronni's breathless inquiry.

"You're here to see Julia? Oh, she'll be thrilled. You won't be able to stay for long. She had a bit of an accident this morning-"

"I know. That's why I'm here," Ronni interrupted, the girl's chipper attitude grating on already raw nerves. She scrawled her name across the sign-in sheet and hurried to Julia's room, her mind conjuring rapidly worsening images of Julia's possible injuries.

Images that crunched to a halt when she looked through the doorway of the elderly woman's room. Julia was in a wheelchair, laughing with a dark-haired woman in her late forties. Ronni watched the two of them for a moment, wondering if the woman was the previously unmentioned granddaughter.

Julia had a dark bruise over one cheekbone and an Ace bandage over her wrist but otherwise looked fine. She was facing the door and paused when she caught sight of Ronni. Her aged eyes obviously couldn't make out who the visitor was, but she called out a greeting.

"Hello?"

"It's Ronni, Julia. I came as quickly as I could. I heard you had an accident. Are you all right?" She watched the new woman out of the corner of her eye as she spoke to Julia.

"Oh, Ronni, thank goodness you're here." Julia said as she reached out her uninjured hand to grasp Ronni's wrist and pull her closer. "This is my granddaughter, Deborah. Deb, Ronni is interviewing me for her book."

"For my doctoral thesis, Julia," Ronni corrected. 'I wonder if she hit her head in the accident,' Ronni thought.

"And you're interviewing Julia?" The doubt in Deborah's voice was easy to hear.

"Oh, hush, Deb. I learned my lesson."

Ronni glanced back and forth between the two women, confused by the direction the conversation was taking. She had come here to discuss Julia's accident, not a past interview the woman had given. She felt a surge of irritation and wanted to blame Deborah, but knew that wasn't fair. If she was Julia's granddaughter, then she had more right to be here than Ronni did. Ronni shifted her weight, wondering if it would be rude to sit down, when Deborah stood up.

"Well, Gram, I have to go. I'm glad you're all right. Ronni, it was nice to meet you." The woman looked hard at Ronni, then back at the purse sitting by her chair. When Ronni nodded, Deborah turned back to Julia and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"Be good. I love you."

Ronni waited almost a full minute after the woman left. "Oh, she left her purse." Ronni grabbed the article and raced back out of the room without waiting for Julia to respond. Only to stumble to a halt in the hall at the sight of Deborah a few steps away.

"Walk out with me," Deborah said, and Ronni fell into step beside her. She decided to let the older woman speak first, but found she couldn't wait after they had rounded the corner.

"I didn't know Julia had any family in the area," she trailed off, hoping Deborah would fill her in.

"We aren't actually related," Deborah answered with a smile. "She was my grandmother's best friend. She's been around as long as I can remember."

"So you just started calling her 'Gram'?"

"No, my grandmother died when I was eight. She was my only grandparent, and I was heartbroken. I cried to Julia that I was the only kid without a grandma." Deborah paused to laugh and shake her head. "It wasn't true, but I was convinced. Julia, bless her heart, told me not to be silly, I still had a Grandma Julie. I've called her that ever since."

Ronni considered the information as they reached the lobby. The sight of the bubbly girl behind the reception desk triggered another question.

"Do they know you're not actually related to Julia?" She asked, nodding toward reception.

"I'm Julia's emergency contact. I don't think they care too much about anything else." Deborah shrugged. "Anyway, no one has ever asked."

"You didn't seem happy about my interviewing her?" Ronni phrased it as a question, hoping it would encourage Deborah to keep talking, but the other woman made a face and continued to look away. Ronni was about to give up and return to Julia when Deborah finally spoke.

"How much do you know about Julia?"

"Not much." It was Ronni's turn to shrug. "I had an article that was written about her, but the first time I came to interview her, Julia told me it was all a lie – that someone had sold her out. Do you know who that was?" Ronni asked. She hadn't even considered asking Deborah about that mystery.

"Me," the older woman answered. "I listened to Julia's stories for years. They were exciting, and no matter what I was interested in, Julia had experienced it first-hand. As a teenager, I wanted to be a writer, and I decided I needed to write Julia's biography. I wrote down as many stories as I could remember, and asked her to fill in the details. They weren't quite what I remembered, but I had been really young when I first heard them. I put them all together and entered it in a high-school writing contest.

"I didn't tell anybody – I was going to surprise Gram with it after the contest was over. I placed third, and was so proud I raced home to tell her."

"She told you the stories weren't true?"

"Not exactly. She got embarrassed and tried to hide it, but I could tell she wasn't pleased. I told my mom that night, and she told me she didn't think Julia's stories were real. She pointed out that the stories changed every time Julia told them, and she would have had to live four lifetimes to do everything she claimed."

Ronni watched as Deborah shifted her purse from one shoulder to the other. "Did she ever tell you about Mike's or about Billy the Bootlegger?"

Deborah shook her head. "I don't remember any Billy in her stories. Mike's, maybe. Is that where she worked during the Depression?"

"Yes. Mike's Mirage. She said she lived there as well." Ronni took a deep breath. "You think it might not be true?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think there's some truth in all her stories, but I'm not sure." Deborah's face showed her sympathy. "What's your dissertation about, anyway?"

"Alcohol and its connection to women's roles in society," Ronni answered. "Especially regarding Prohibition."

"And you found an elderly Kansas woman claiming to have worked in a speak-easy." Deborah rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Look, it's possible. Gram always was an independent old cuss. She certainly could have worked in a speak-easy – it wouldn't surprise me."

The two women stood in silence for a few minutes. Ronni was trying to wrap her head around the new information.

"What about today? She said a nurse was killed in a hit and run ..."

"But she didn't hear any brakes squealing," Deborah finished. "With a lot of traffic outside and a good deal of noise inside, who knows what Gram might or might not have heard? She might be right, but I trust the police to do a full investigation. The staff here probably just didn't want to cause a panic."

"What about her accident? She was going into the bathroom to call me so that she wouldn't be overheard. She definitely got hurt."

"Yes, she did, but she is also 108 years old. She's going to fall, and she's lucky she didn't break a hip," Deborah said before her attitude abruptly changed and became businesslike. "Ronni, it was nice to meet you. Good luck with your dissertation, but check your facts as much as possible when talking to Julia."

Shaken, Ronni stepped back and watched the older woman walk out the door. She wasn't sure she believed Deborah, but her words had made her doubt herself as well as Julia. Remembering Julia had been alone in the room the entire time Ronni and Deborah had been talking and was the only person who really knew what was true or not, Ronni headed back to Julia's room.

She again stopped in the doorway to observe the woman in question. Julia was staring toward the window, a wistful smile on her face. She cradled her bandaged wrist in the opposite hand, and – somehow – it was this gesture that reminded Ronni why she had chosen this assignment. Whatever else had happened, whatever else Julia had lied about in the past, those jewels were real, and a woman was dead. Whether those two facts were connected, time would tell, but right now she was going to assume Julia was telling the truth. At least the truth as far as Julia remembered it to be.

Ronni forced a smile onto her face and walked back into the room. "I caught her just in time, Julia."

"So she's gone, then?" Julia turned to face Ronni, leaning forward in the wheelchair as she did. "I thought she'd never leave. I love Deb dearly, but the girl has no imagination. Get your facts mixed up once, and she'll never believe you again." She beckoned Ronni forward.

"Ronni, we need to be more careful. Someone must have been listening to our conversation and followed me into the bathroom. I know it, Ronni, I know what I felt."

Ronni hesitated, Deborah's words running through her head. "What did you feel, Julia?"

"Hands. I felt hands on my back. Someone followed me into that bathroom and pushed me."

CHAPTER 9 by Marian Rakestraw

Whatever reaction Julia had expected, it was a long time coming. Ronni sat down on the floral sofa and spent a long moment staring at Julia's cupped hands. The skin of the non-bandaged one was as thin as rice paper. Raised blue veins twined across it like faded hair ribbons. Images and snippets of conversation flittered through Ronni's head, slowly settling until each piece slotted neatly into place; the truth, the lies, the white noise that clouded what was important.

Ronni met Julia's gaze squarely. "Deb says you're a liar."

The words hung between them, but Julia's eyes turned away for only a moment. "I suppose I've told my fair share. What do you think, Ronni? Am I a dotty old lady or someone you want to believe?"

"The first time we met you said the same thing. 'People believe what they want to believe, the truth becomes unimportant and lost in the haze.' That may be true. Maybe the truth is a malleable thing."

"So you do think I'm lying."

"No, I think nearly everything you have told me is the truth. I also know that you have told some big lies to Deb. People tell lies for lots of different reasons. Fun. Fear. I don't see you as someone who would lie for fun, which leaves me wondering what you have to fear or hide. I need to tell you something, Julia, but first I want you to look at me and tell me what you really see."

The cloudy eyes brightened a little as Julia took her time looking Ronni over. Ronni wondered if it was a conscious effort to make her wait, to make her experience the same discomfort she had made Julia feel. "You need to spend money on a better hairdresser. That dye job looks cheap."

"Good," answered Ronni. "Anything else?"

"Your clothes are too tight. You don't look like you're very comfortable in them."

"Absolutely right. I hate them, and the hair. You may call them lies if you like, because I did all of it to hide the truth." Ronni took the fragile hands in her own. "I need you to understand this, Julia. I'm a cop. Not a student. When I first came to interview you, it was all part of my cover story."

Julia pulled her hands away. "Everything you've told me is fake?" She sounded hurt.

Ronni knew that Julia's trust in her could melt away, and once it was gone she wouldn't get it back. She needed to mend things now. She felt herself starting to panic again, just as she had when her car had failed her. It was so odd; usually she could stay detached from things.

"Give me a minute, okay? I can explain. I've been undercover working on a suspected cheating ring at KU. An ex-professor tipped us off about systematic cheating on the bar exam. I needed a way to get in close to one of the students without seeming to suspect him of anything. His name is Charles. You've never met a more self-involved guy. The hair, the clothes, all of it is for him. No way would he ever suspect his bimbo girlfriend of being a cop, particularly if that girlfriend is studying anthropology. I'm sure it ranks right up there with underwater basket weaving on his list of useless subjects.

"Yes, I came here and interviewed you for completely false reasons, but then something interesting happened. I got involved in your story, involved enough to tell it to Charles. And he was much too interested in it. Normally he's only interested in telling stories, not hearing them. There is something in your past that is interesting to him in the here and now, but not in a good way. I'm telling you all of this because I need to set things straight with us, Julia. I need you to trust me."

Ronni got up and went quickly to the bedroom. The key was right where she had left it, and the jewelry box lay undisturbed in the hatbox. She brought the box back, unlocked it, and laid it open on the table between the sofa and Julia's wheelchair. The emerald ring twinkled dully in the light. The stones were so dark a green that they seemed to absorb light instead of reflecting it. Ronni picked up the ring, tempted to try it on. She held it up and looked inside where the words Cartier, Paris were neatly etched.

"A good cop pays attention when a case presents itself, and I'm a good cop. I don't know yet how it's all connected – Mike's Mirage, Billy's death, this ring, Charles, Nurse Lydia's death, the person who pushed you. But they are. I'm sure of it." Her eyes pulled away from the ring and looked Julia fully in the face. "You are the key to everything, the only one who was there then and is still here. I want you to tell me everything. Please."

Julia curled into herself, feet drawing together, chest in. Ronni thought she might not say anything, that whatever value there was in her story might remain locked away in her memory.

Finally, she seemed to come to a decision. "Over on the shelf is a scrap book, a large blue one. Will you bring it to me?"

The cover was battered cardboard with the word Memories embossed on it in gold. A frayed leather thong passed through two holes in the cover and were tied into a bow, holding the pages inside loosely together. Julia leafed through the book, rejecting playbills, newspaper articles, and faded letters until she came to a page with a few photographs tipped with black paper corners. In one, a young black man leaned against the door of a truck. He was relaxed, robust, and smiling for the camera. "That was Billy," said Julia.

"Yes. That's the first thing I need to know, Julia. What did you do with Billy's body?"

Silence.

"I know you must have been frightened," prompted Ronni. "Alone at night with a dead man on your doorstep. I can deal with Charles and read the police report about Lydia, but the past is only yours."

"The thing that has stayed with me, all this time," began Julia, "is how quiet the night was. Not even the dogs were barking. It was as if even the tiniest noise would shatter the whole world. I stood and looked at Billy's body for too long. There was no blood, but there were bruises blooming on his face. He'd been badly beaten. His truck wasn't there, so he must have come to me on foot and not quite made it. That, or someone brought his body there.

"I knew I couldn't leave him, and we couldn't have the police nosing around. Billy was too much for me to carry all alone. I needed help and a car to carry the body away from the Mirage. It was Hal, the bouncer, I called. He was big, he knew how to keep his mouth shut, and he had a car. That's a good friend to have at four in the morning."

"Why didn't you wake up Rosie?"

"She wasn't there. I don't know where she was. Off on business of her own, I guess. Hal lived alone in an apartment upstairs, so I was only gone a few minutes to fetch him. We carried the body to Hal's car, and the impression it had left in the snow was already erased before we figured out a place to drive.

"The roads were so foul,I thought we would be lucky to get anywhere in town. Going out into the country to bury Billy was impossible. Even if we had been able to, the ground was so hard, so icy, that we would have needed more than just a shovel to dig a grave. It was Hal who thought of the solution to our problem. I just sat on the running board of his car and stared, trying so hard to understand that Billy was gone.

"It only took a few minutes to drive there, even in that weather. I was cursing the snow then, but I'll tell you, there were years coming up when I would have been happy for it. Hal pulled the car over just at the edge of the site. The trenches snaked away from us, stretching and crossing. It reminded me of a newsreel from the Great War, those awful trenches where so many of our boys were lost. Hal was looking sick by then; I thought he might be remembering his own days in France, but he never faltered. He slipped Billy's body into his arms and carried him right into the heart of the maze."

"I'm sorry," Ronni said, "I don't understand where you took him. What maze?"

"Topeka High. It was only a couple of blocks away. They were building it then and had dug what seemed like miles of footings. We picked a good spot, cleared away the gravel in the bottom, and then shoveled it back after we laid Billy down. When they poured the concrete, it was chaos. Herds of men pouring those foundations as fast as they could, right over the top of my Billy. It worked. Billy just disappeared. No one but Hal and I ever knew what happened to him."

Julia took the ring from Ronni's hand. "I thought about throwing this in with him, but I just couldn't do it. Think of it, engaged for one day, and then he was gone."

"Where do you suppose Billy got a ring like this?" asked Ronni. "It's more than a little spectacular for a local bootlegger."

"When your beau works on the shady side of the law you don't ask questions. Still, I put it away and never wore it in public. It was our secret, Billy's and mine. I never told a soul about it until I told you." Julia withered with the ending of her story, sad and defeated. "I still don't see why this matters now. And what if my memories aren't enough? What if there are things I can't remember or never knew?"

"You will remember enough, I'm sure of it," Ronni said, trying to sound confident. "And if we need to fill in the blanks we have another resource we can use. You remember Pete, who came with me the first day? He's a librarian; if we need research he's our go-to guy." Ronni pulled out her cell and dialed the first digits of Pete's number. It was going to be so good to be able to talk to him without having to pretend to have a boyfriend. Almost too good for comfort.

"Wait," Julia reached for Ronni's arm. "Before you do that, I need to show you one more thing. Since we're trusting each other." She leaned over and opened the compartment in the bottom of the green crocodile jewelry box.

CHAPTER 10 by Diana Marsh

Ronni couldn't hold back her sharp gasp as Julia unveiled the contents of the bottom compartment. A small fortune in jewels laid in a haphazard tangle, strands of pearls wound around chains dusted in diamonds. There were more rings – though none of them as extravagant as Julia's engagement ring – and a small cache of bracelets and pins. A flash of blue and green near the bottom of the tangle caught her eye, and Ronni leaned forward.

"May I?" she asked. Julia nodded, and Ronni dug through the tangle to extract the source of her curiosity. Ronni had never seen anything as fantastic as the brooch she held in the palm of her hand. Someone had painstakingly crafted the body of a peacock out of silver and a dozen emeralds, sapphires, and amethysts. The colors of the stones danced and melted into each other with every dip and turn of the brooch and shift in the light. At the center of the body sat a small, delicate watch face surrounded in small white diamonds. It didn't tick, but Ronni felt sure that if she reached for the fob on the side and gave it a few turns, the gears would start to turn again.

Realization came as she brushed a finger along one of the sculpted feathers. She was wrong; she had seen it before. She snapped her fingers to help drag the information up from the foggy bottom of her memory. "The Westfeld heist."

"The what?" Julia asked.

"The Westfeld jewelry heist. We studied it at the academy. Senator Joe Westfeld was a big-shot Senator here during Prohibition. He liked to publicly rail against the evils of alcohol, but rumor had it he spent his off hours frequenting speakeasies and tying one on at the penthouse at the Jayhawk Tower with the other city bigwigs." Ronni looked up from the peacock in her palm. It felt so much heavier than its size, and she knew that was just her own excitement. "His wife had an infamously over-the-top collection of jewelry that she liked to show off whenever they went out. Not that he took her to speakeasies or the Jayhawk. He had a collection of good-time girls he took to those places. Anyway, one night while he was out painting the town, someone broke into his house and cleaned out his wife's entire collection. Including ..." She held up the peacock.

"Oh, my." Julia clutched a hand over her heart. She didn't look pale or on the verge of fainting, so Ronni didn't call out for the nurse, but she did lay a hand on the older woman's shoulder.

"The case was never solved, and the jewels were never found." Ronni laid the peacock back amongst the other jewels and watched the light play over the stones one last time. When she looked back up, Julia was studying the ring in her hand, looking at it like she'd never seen it before. Likely hasn't, not in this light, she thought.

"Was anyone hurt?" she asked, without looking up.

"A neighbor that heard a commotion got a knock on the head, but the Senator was gone, and Mrs. Westfeld was visiting family in Lawrence. Nobody was home."

Julia nodded. The answer must have reassured some worry of hers, because the deep lines around her eyes softened, and she let out a shaky breath.

Ronni stood and went to the kitchen. She came back with a glass of water and handed it to Julia, who took it with a soft smile. "Julia, can I ask you how you ended up with them?" she asked as she retook her seat.

"A few days after ... after I found him ..." She paused to take a drink from the glass and then clasped it tightly in both of her hands. "I went to the rail yard to think. His Model A was there. It looked like someone had torn it to pieces – not that you could tell the difference in some respects, wreck that it was. Whoever'd done it didn't know Billy so well, though, because they missed a compartment he built in to hide a pistol he kept, in case someone decided to get in his business. Bootlegging was rough business, you know." She nodded at the collection of jewelry. "I found that all there, just like that. Didn't know quite what else to do with it, so I gathered it up, took it back to Mike's, and hid it."

"You never thought about turning it in? Or fencing it? That is a lot of hot ice – pardon the crime novel parlance – and it could've softened life for you."

The notion was dismissed with a brisk shake of Julia's head. "I wouldn't get Billy in that kind of trouble. Even dead, I wouldn't turn him in." She took another drink from her glass, then sighed. "So you think Billy was involved in the robbery?"

"Looks like it. Either directly, or as an accomplice after the fact. It might even be why someone decided to kill him." Her phone took that second to decide to ring. She didn't recognize the number, but something told her to answer it anyway. At least it wasn't Charles. "Hello?"

"Tell me you adore me," the voice on the other end said. It said "adore" the same way it said "lovely" and "jazz," in that way that made her smile despite herself.

"Why do I adore you exactly, Pete?"

"Because have I got a story for you. I've been doing a little research, and I think I found Julia's Billy the Bootlegger."

Ronni chuckled. "You aren't the only one with a story, but I need a few more details. Could you do a little digging for me? Then you could bring that and your story by Lakeview, and we'll spring Julia for a bite somewhere and compare grand discoveries?"

"Think I can manage that. What've you got?"

Ronni rattled off the topics she wanted researched. She heard the scratch of pen over paper and wanted to roll her eyes. Of course. Mr. Throwback would still use a pen and paper. It was almost cute.

"All right," Pete said. "I'll poke around here, and then I'll swing by to pick you up at three?"

"You think you can manage all that and get here from Kansas City that fast?"

A warm laugh rolled down the line. "Of course I can. I'm Super Librarian. My fingers are faster than a speeding bullet, and I can leap tall microfiche readers in a single bound. See you in a bit."

True to his word, Pete pulled up in front of the manor at precisely three o'clock. It had taken Ronni almost that long, and a call to next-of-kin Deb, to get Julia checked out for an afternoon field trip. Pete met them at the door and went through the mannerly process of guiding Julia into the front seat under the watchful eye of three nurses.

"We're still not entirely sure about this," one of the nurses kept saying as Ronni watched as well.

"We'll have her back, unharmed, before bed check. Promise." She adjusted the coat hanging over her arm to better hide the green crocodile case. She didn't feel right leaving it there, despite the fact, to her knowledge, nobody else knew of its existence. Something, some bit of instinct, made her grab it on the way out the door.

As he shut Julia's door, Pete waved her over. Ronni smiled to the nurses and offered her farewells and then met Pete at the passenger-side door. He opened it with a flourish and bowed. "Your chariot awaits." Out of the side of his mouth, mid-bow, he asked, "They going to call the cops on us?"

Ronni decided not to chuckle at the irony. "No, we're good."

"Fantastic. No reason to take off at a dead run and show off my 'Smokey and the Bandit' skills."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he actually possessed the aforementioned skills, but Ronni decided to keep that to herself, too. To be on the safe side, though, she fastened her seatbelt and made sure it was snug and secure before Pete slid back behind the wheel.

"All right then. We're going to ..."

"Weller's. Just hit Topeka Boulevard and head north over the bridge."

Ronni took the opportunity of the drive to catch Pete up. He took the news that she was an undercover cop with less-than-encouraging silence, but she didn't have time to worry much about that, not when her attention was split between the conversation and a dark sedan she kept spotting out the back window that seemed to make every turn and lane change they did. It stayed three cars back at all times, and while Ronni tried to tell herself she was just being paranoid, that same feeling that made her grab the case on the way out the door made her suspicious of the dark sedan. So suspicious, that when they approached the stale yellow light at Sixth and Topeka she leaned across the seat and said, "Run it."

"Excuse me? You want me to ..."

"Run the light. Right now."

"You're going to get this ticket taken care of for me, right?" he said, but jammed his foot on the gas all the same and sent the car careening through the intersection just shy of the traffic heading east on Sixth. Ronni looked out the back window and let out a sigh when she saw the sedan stuck behind the light.

"Turn right on Fifth. We're taking a slight detour."

Just shy of four o'clock on a weekday, Weller's Bar and Grill was not the bustling, noisy sports bar it sometimes resembled on game days or after five on Fridays. The bar was nearly empty, and the tables off to the left and back held only scattered parties, clustered around appetizers and sweating glasses. Ronni nodded to a server she knew, who held up a bottle of Bud Light and pointed to it in question. She shook her head, mouthed "water" and held up three fingers. The server rolled her eyes but nodded. Initial order received.

With Pete at one elbow and Ronni at the other, they got Julia situated up into a chair at the high table in the far corner, beneath a flat screen playing Sports Center on mute. The server brought over the water and three menus, and while Julia perused the latter, Ronni set the case in the empty fourth seat and unearthed the bottom compartment's contents for Pete's examination.

"Shut the door!" At Ronni's sharp "shush," he gave a sheepish smile and leaned closer. "Are those puppies real?" he asked in a whisper.

"I'm no gemologist, but I'd hazard a guess they are." She closed the case and folded her coat over it, carefully eyeing the other patrons to make sure none of them were paying their table too much attention. "Someone thinks they're real enough to kill over, anyway, if nurse Lydia's 'accident' is anything to go by."

"So we're definitely thinking non-accidental accident, then?"

Ronni nodded.

Pete reached for his water with one hand and dug a collection of folded sheets of paper out of his pocket with the other. "Okay. Well, if what you had me look up is any indication, it's probably not just a case of job-related paranoia." He gave her a wink that earned him an eyeroll and inspired a chuckle from the seemingly otherwise focused Julia. Ronni sighed. Great, she thought. I'm outnumbered. "Anyway, I did some research on your jewel heist. You had the basic details right. The house was empty, neighbors heard a commotion around midnight, one decided to investigate since he knew the occupants weren't home. Apparently, he thought it was likely just the senator coming home too soused to get himself to bed, which was a common enough occurrence. He found the robbers instead and took a blackjack to the back of the head for his trouble."

Julia tensed and looked up from the menu. Ronni thought the word "blackjack" had inspired the reaction, but couldn't be sure. Julia asked, "He was all right, though? The neighbor?" She seemed anxious.

Pete reached across the table and patted one of the older woman's pale, thin hands. "By all accounts, he lived to a ripe old age."

Ronni expected her to relax at the reassurance, but she didn't, which just reinforced something about her initial suspicion. "So there were three men on the job?" she asked, turning her attention back to Pete.

"The neighbor swore up and down he saw three men in the house. Other neighbors claimed to have spotted a beat-up truck parked in front of the house with its engine idling and a woman behind the wheel about the same time." Pete smoothed out the folds in one of the printouts and laid it in the middle of the table. It was an article from The Topeka Daily Capital about the robbery. "It was dark, but they gave a basic description of a young woman in her early 20′s with dark, curly hair."

"That could have been Rosie," Julia said. In the next breath, she smiled and set her menu aside. "I think I'd like the loaded baked potato, please."

Ronni watched her for a moment before letting her eyes move back to the article. "It says here that the witness thought one of the men was 'colored' and another was 'a big stocky mule of a thing.' Could this be your Billy and that bouncer, Hal?" That bouncer, Ronni thought, who might make proficient use of a blackjack in his day to day activities keeping the peace at a speakeasy. Julia looked down at the table like a small child caught telling their parent half of a story.

"It's possible. They were tight, Billy and Hal. Thick as thieves in the days right before I found him." She laughed, though it wasn't the most amused of sounds. "Guess that's an apt enough description there. Since they were thieving."

The server stopped by to ask for orders. Ronni grabbed the article and folded it in half before putting in Julia's request for the baked potato and her own for burger and fries. Pete ordered the same, and they sent the girl off before all three leaned over the article once more.

"What about the third guy?" Ronni asked in a low whisper. "The neighbor didn't see him too well, and there's not much about him in the article."

"Billy had so many friends," Julia said with a sad sigh. "It could have been anybody. Or somebody I didn't know at all, who got him and Hal both involved in this craziness."

The comment made Pete jump in his seat and dig out a second piece of folded paper. He unfolded it with care and slid it across the table to Julia. "Mrs. Stanford, is this your Billy?"

The photo was old and grainy even before it had been photocopied. Age had left cracks in the paper and made it curl at the edges. Four men stood in front of a brick facade with the sort of free, careless smiles typical to young men assured of their own immortality. Two of the three were African-American. A tear on one corner had obliterated part of a sign in the background, but most of the letters in "Mike's" still remained. As she stared at the photo, Julia's cloudy eyes began to fill with tears. She reached out and tapped a shaking finger just above the tallest of the two black men.

"That's him," she said with a small, unsteady voice. "That's my Billy."

"Billy Thompson, according to the writing on the back of the photo." Pete smiled. "We had it in the archives. Somebody had donated it to the collection.

"Can I ...?" Julia looked up from the photocopy with a watery smile. Pete nodded.

"It's all yours. I can even make you a better copy if you want."

Ronni wasn't immune to the emotion of the situation, but she was more focused on the other men in the photo and whether one of them was the mysterious third man. She was still pondering that notion when her phone rang. She recognized Lakeview Manor's number and frowned as she answered.

"I promise, Mrs. Stanford will be back in just a ..."

"There's a situation here that Mrs. Stanford should be aware of," the crisp voice of the nurse said, interrupting Ronni's lament. "Her room has been vandalized."

CHAPTER 11 by Dennis E. Smirl

"Vandalized?" Ronni asked. "Are you sure that's the right term?"

The woman on the other end of the line stammered for a moment. "I ... I ... I don't think I understand. What else could it—"

"Have you called the police?"

"N ... No. I really didn't know what to do without talking with Mrs. Stanford."

"Who else has been in the room?" Ronni insisted.

"No one," the woman said. "Other than myself." She was gathering herself, and the stutter had disappeared.

"Good. Now close and lock the door to Mrs. Stanford's room. Do NOT let anyone else inside, and call the police. Tell them you suspect a burglary."

"How dreadful. Do you mean to tell me that you think a common criminal ... a burglar ... was walking around in our facility where he could have harmed one of our residents?"

"Why did you say 'he'?" Ronni asked.

"I ... I just assumed ..." The stammer had returned.

"Did you see anyone in your facility who didn't belong there? More specifically, did you see a man in your facility who was unfamiliar to the staff, or who looked as if he didn't belong?"

"I ... I may have," the woman admitted. "But he was well-dressed and seemed to know exactly where he was going, so I didn't intercept him. I ... guess I should have."

"It's just as well you didn't," Ronni said. "Now, please do as I ask you. Lock the room and call the police. I'll return with Mrs. Stanford shortly." She hung up without waiting for a response.

"From this end, that sounded pretty serious," Pete said. He glanced nervously at Julia and then back at Ronni. "What's going on?"

"Yes, dear, what's going on?" Julia asked.

Ronni gazed at both of them as calmly as she could. She'd already made up her mind to downplay the event as much as possible, as spooking them would just make things worse. "Someone went through your room and your things, Julia. There may have been some damage. I'm sorry." The word vandalism had a specific meaning, and Ronni feared that Julia's few possessions had been damaged or even destroyed.

"Shouldn't we get right back and take a look at what was done to my room?" Julia asked.

Ronni shook her head. "No, the police will show up shortly. They'll look for evidence, and our presence there wouldn't help them in any way. Let's just – "

"But what if they have questions?" Pete interrupted. "If no one's there to answer them ..."

"Yes, Ronni," Julia said. "I think Pete's right."

Ronni thought about the car that had followed them earlier. Or had that been a bit of healthy paranoia? She didn't like the idea of what might be waiting for them, once they were back on the streets of Topeka. Hopefully, she tried to assure herself, the worst we'll face is some unfilled potholes.

"Should I be frightened?" Julia asked. "First someone follows us like in a gangster movie, and then I find out that someone has been in my room, damaging my possessions." Color rose in her cheeks, and she dabbed at her forehead with a hankie.

"I'll be right back," Ronni said. She left the table and found the manager. A solid, well-dressed-guy in his late twenties or early thirties, he negated the positives with a badly-fitted hairpiece.

"How can I help you?" His voice was a resonant baritone. Ronni mentally erased some of the deductions for the bad toupee.

"Do you have a back door? Does it lead to an alley? Is the alley open at both ends?" She asked, almost in a single sentence.

The manager smiled. "Yes, yes, and yes. Do you have a problem I can help with?"

She shook her head. "No. Everything's fine. Thanks for your concern." On the way back to the table, she stopped at the half-way point and dialed a number she hadn't used for far too long.

"Ronni," a bass voice answered. "What's up?"

"I need a ride. I thought of you."

"Where are you?"

"Weller's"

"Last I heard, Topeka had taxis."

"It's been a while since I called you," Ronni said.

"You might say that."

"Are you angry with me?"

"No. But I do miss seeing you or hearing from you."

"Well, I don't need a taxi. I need you," Ronni said.

"Are you that jammed up?"

"Maybe. I'm involved in something. Someone was following us earlier. We managed to lose them."

"Us?"

"I'll explain when you get here. What are you driving?"

"Same green Crown Vic." He laughed. "They'll probably bury me in it."

"Meet us in the alley behind Weller's?"

"Not a problem. I'll be there in five."

Click.

Ronni finished her journey to the table. She sat for a moment and then said, "We're going out the back. I have a ride that's going to pick us up."

"Who?" Pete asked.

"I'll introduce you when he gets here in..." She glanced at her watch. "Just about four-and-a-half minutes from now."

"Your friend must be very punctual," Julia said.

Ronni shook her head. "Not my friend, my uncle. Actually, I think he's my great-uncle, or maybe great-great-uncle. I can never keep those things straight."

"Oh great," Pete muttered. "A ride in a geezermobile."

Ronni left cash on the table to cover the food they didn't have time to eat.

Exactly on time, a late-model, dark-green Crown Victoria pulled into the alley behind Weller's. Ronni had been watching through a door opened only an inch or so. When the car stopped, she said, "He's here. Let's move."

She led the way down a half-flight of stairs while Pete helped Julia, one slow step at a time. The two of them got in the back, and Ronni got in the passenger side of the front seat. "Hi," she said, trying to put on a brave front.

"Where are we headed?" her uncle asked. A large, white-haired, ruddy-complexioned man looking to be in his late sixties or early seventies, he had the car in motion the moment the doors closed. Then he added, "Buckle up, everyone. State law, don't you know."

Ronni clicked her seat belt catch and turned to him. "Thanks for coming to our rescue."

"Not a problem. Who are your friends?"

"Pete and Julia. I figure you can tell which is which." She turned to look at the two in the back seat. "Oh, this is my uncle Dallas. But most people call him 'Dal'."

Dallas pointed a thumb — and a smile — at Pete. "You can call me 'Mister Dal."

"Funny," Pete said. "Especially coming from a guy who drives antiques."

"Round one for Pete," Ronni said. "But Pete, this is certainly not a geezermobile."

"That's what he called my car?" Dallas asked with a slight edge to his voice.

"Sometimes he kids with people," Ronni said. "Don't pay him any mind. And even less attention."

"Didn't plan on it."

Ronni leaned far enough to her left so she could see the speedometer. He was slightly over the limit, and she could see that his eyes moved to his rear-view mirrors ever few seconds. He was keeping track of everything surrounding his car.

Finally he looked at Ronni. "So what have you gotten yourself into now?"

"Hopefully, nothing that's going to cause a problem. I'm doing research on the 1920s. Julia lived through them. She's a primary source."

"That's good," Dallas said. "And is there supposed to be someone following us?"

"No!" Ronni and Pete said simultaneously.

"How interesting. Because someone in a black Lexus is following us. And they're being rather obvious and clumsy about it."

"Can we lose them in this clunker?" Pete leaned forward as he asked the question. Dallas floored the accelerator, the Crown Vic shot forward, and Pete was slammed back against the seat cushion.

"Does that answer your question?" Dallas asked, lifting his foot and letting the car slow back to the speed limit.

Pete waited to catch the breath he'd lost before answering, "Yeah. No problem."

"Good," Ronni said, unhappy with the testosterone games. "Now what are we going to do about the people following us?"

"Do you want to lose them?" Dallas asked. "Or do you want to know why they're following us?"

"I know why they're following us," Ronni said. "And it has to do with Julia and some precious antiques and jewelry."

"Do I want to know any more than that?" he asked.

"Do you?"

"Not really." Dallas looked at Julia in the rear-view mirror. "Then maybe we should just lose them."

Julia brightened. "Yes. Let's lose them. Let's have some fun."

Dallas grinned. Ronni tried to tighten her belt. Dallas had been driving a random pattern since he noticed the tail, and they were northbound on Kansas. He turned left at 4th, then right on Topeka, and continued northbound.

"What are you doing?" Ronni asked.

"Letting them follow us. For a while," Dallas said. "They haven't tried anything really stupid — yet — so I'm just going to drive the speed limit, stop at red lights, and hopefully, set them up for a surprise."

"What kind of surprise?" Pete asked.

Dallas chuckled, "Hide and learn, little brother. Hide and learn." He pulled his cell phone out of a pocket in his jacket, speed-dialed a number, and talked quietly for almost a minute. Then, nodding and smiling, he put the phone back in his pocket.

"I've got a question," Dallas said, as they passed The Pad restaurant.

"Um ... okay. What?" Ronni said.

"You changed cars. And it didn't fool them. Why not?"

Ronni's surprise showed on her face. "I ... I have no idea."

"Isn't your phone GPS-Enabled?" Dallas asked.

"Yeah, but ..."

"No buts about it," he said. "As long as your phone's on, they know where you are."

"But these guys are thugs. You can't tell me ..." She stopped. "But I guess you don't have to be NASA to track a phone these days."

"I think you mean NSA," Dallas said, still driving sanely. "But what's in a name? The onion would smell just as sweet."

"What are you people talking about?" Julia asked. "And why aren't we having fun yet?"

Dallas looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Soon, ma'am, soon."

Detour signs blocked their way to Highway 24. Dallas turned a smooth right just past a Dairy Queen, then turned left on Kansas. A couple of blocks and he made a right-hand turn east onto Highway 24. Once the traffic began to clear, he said, "Okay, the fun's about to begin."

Ronni looked back. Traffic was almost nonexistent, and the black Lexus was now gaining on them. She mentioned it to Dallas. He nodded and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The Crown Vic surged forward, and in a few seconds, they were doing ninety.

"Won't this thing go any faster?" Pete asked. He was looking back at the Lexus. It wasn't more than two car lengths behind them, and closing as if to play 'bump and run.'

"I'll let them get a little closer," Dallas said, "and then move out from under them. I just don't want to spoil their surprise."

"What surprise?" Pete insisted.

"Look behind the Lexus. What do you see?"

"About four Highway Patrol cars, all with their flashers on."

"You set this up?" Ronni asked.

"Yeah," Dallas said. "Just called in a couple of favors."

A moment later, the Lexus whipped into the left lane, and then accelerated past the Crown Vic like a moon rocket on steroids. The Highway Patrol cars zipped by and continued the chase. Dallas slowed the Crown Vic back to the posted limit and looked for a place to turn around. As he did, he said, quietly, "Happy birthday, bad guys."

"What did you do in the real world?" Pete asked.

"I wore a uniform and a Smoky hat," Dallas answered. "Just like the guys who are chasing the idiots in the Lexus."

"That was so much fun," Julia said. "Now I think I'm going to take a nap." She rested her chin on her chest, and before Dallas could get the car turned around and headed westbound, she was snoring softly.

"How old is she?" Dallas asked, once he was sure Julia was asleep.

"Past a hundred," Ronni said. "She worked in a speakeasy during Prohibition."

"Worked?" Dallas asked, trying to be as discrete as possible while still satisfying his curiosity.

"All she did was play in a band. No hanky-panky."

"Good for her. And she's still alive. So what does she have that people want so badly?"

"Hang on a minute." As Dallas asked the question, Ronni's phone had rung. It was the woman who'd called her earlier.

"The police would like to talk with Mrs. Stanford. How soon can you be here?"

Ronni looked outside. They were almost back to Kansas Avenue. "Twenty minutes, maybe less. Why do the police want to talk with her?"

"I don't know. They went into her room, looked around, and I think they took fingerprints. But something bothered them. I don't know what it was."

"They didn't give you any hints?" Ronni ventured.

"No. They just looked very serious, and they seemed very secretive."

"We'll hurry. Good-bye." She clicked off and turned back to speak to Dallas. "Sorry for all the trouble, Uncle. I didn't figure things would get this complicated."

He shrugged and then smiled. "Ronni, things have always had a habit of getting complicated when you're around."

CHAPTER 12 by Crystal K. Green

Dallas pulled up to Lakeview Manor. Two police cars were parked out front. Pete gently nudged Julia to wake her. "We're home, Mrs. Stanford."

Julia stirred. "Oh, really? So soon?" She stretched her arms and looked out the window. "What do you think they're doing here?" she asked, pointing at the police cars.

Ronni grimaced. She hated to upset Julia and had hoped to avoid any kind of spectacle with the cops, but they couldn't dodge that now. Still, she chose to minimize the potential seriousness of what they found during their investigation. "Julia, the nurses called the police to document the damage to your things and make sure the Manor is safe from whoever committed the crime. The officers need to ask you a couple questions to complete their report."

"Are you sure that's all it is?" asked Julia.

Ronni deflected the question. "Pete, I need to ask my uncle something. Can you help Julia get inside okay?"

"I'll try," said Pete in his velvety voice, flashing a dimpled grin.

"Don't worry," Julia chuckled. "I'll take good care of him for you."

Ronni smiled and waved as the two walked slowly toward the building. A couple of nurses, one pushing a wheelchair, emerged to greet them as they neared the front door.

Ronni patted the coat on the seat next to her, which lay folded, neatly concealing Julia's jewelry box. "You have to keep that safe, Uncle."

"Must be a valuable coat," he replied, winking.

"Yes, it is. Very valuable!"

"You got it. Well, don't stay a stranger so long this time."

She pecked him on the cheek and slid out of the car. "I won't. I'll call you once things are handled here. Thanks for your help today."

He gave her a thumbs up as he squealed the tires and pulled away.

Ronni stood at the curb for a few moments. She scanned the area for any vehicles pursuing the Crown Victoria. Seeing none, she jaunted into the Manor and hurried toward Julia's room. At the nurses desk, a tallish woman in a dark business suit, perhaps in her 50s, intercepted her and blocked her path.

"Ms. Long, I presume?" said the woman authoritatively.

"Uh, yes." Ronni distractedly peered over the woman's shoulder. She saw Julia, Pete, and the police gathered just outside Julia's room. Pete stood next to Julia, who sat in a wheelchair. One of the officers crouched next to her, jotting on a notepad. Pete and Julia both seemed quite relaxed, which was directly opposite what Ronni felt at the moment. Not only was she worried about how Julia would handle whatever the police had to say, but there was something about this woman in front of her she immediately didn't like. She was pretty sure they'd never met before, but the woman almost seemed familiar.

"Good. I'd like a word with you please. In private," the woman said.

"Not yet. I need to check on my friend first."

The woman glanced behind her. "She's being well taken care of, Ms. Long, as you can see."

Ronni attempted to brush past, but the woman quickly cut her off.

Frustrated, Ronni glared at her. "Listen, I really need to make sure everything is all right first, and then we can go have a private chat somewhere."

"No, I'm certain you want to speak with me first, unless you want Mrs. Stanford to spend the night in jail."

"Jail?" Ronni gulped.

"Yes, jail. Believe me, I'm not afraid to bring her crimes up to the police, no matter how long ago they were committed."

Ronni opened her mouth to reply but shut it again when she saw the steel cold eyes of the woman, which practically commanded her to be silent and comply with her request.

Something inside her stirred, the same repulsion that arose when she had to comply with Charles' inane ideas so often as part of her cover. No, thought Ronni, I can't give in to her that easily. Time for some diversionary tactics. She hoped to sway the woman to back off, at least for a while. "I'm sorry," said Ronni in her most polite, even-toned voice, "have we met before? I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it. You can call me Ms. Banning."

"Ah, thank you Ms. Banning. What's your association with Lakeview Manor?"

"That's not important," she hissed.

"I see. If the answer to my question isn't important enough for you to divulge that information, then whatever you have to say to me can probably wait a few minutes. In which case, you won't mind if I check in with Julia briefly before you and I chat. Right?"

The woman scowled at Ronni, but acquiesced and let her pass. Ronni walked confidently toward Julia, Pete and the cops. She didn't feel confident. Instead, she felt relieved that Ms. Banning backed down. That woman definitely got under her skin!

Pete waved as she approached. The officer who had been crouching and taking notes stood up and shook Julia's and then Pete's hands. "Thank you. I think that covers it for now. We'll be on our way." He nodded politely at Ronni as he and the others walked by.

"I missed everything? What did they say?"

"Nothing much, really," replied Pete. "Standard follow-up questions. Who's that woman?"

Ronni looked behind her. Ms. Banning still hovered near the nurses' desk. At the moment, she had her cell phone pressed to her ear and a foul look on her face.

"I don't know exactly," Ronni said, "Let's get Julia home. And I want to hear all about what the police told you about the break-in." They wheeled Julia into her room and helped her settle into her blue chair.

Once nestled comfortably, Julia spoke up. "I'm chilled. Would one of you fetch a blanket from the bedroom for me?"

"I'll get it," volunteered Pete.

"Would you like some tea, Julia?" Ronni asked.

"No, thank you."

Pete came back with the blanket. "I didn't see much of a mess in there. It won't take long to tidy up. The cops told us there wasn't much damage. They were surprised because the nurse who called them sounded hysterical and they were expecting a difficult scene. So what did that woman at the nurses' station want with you anyway? She was intense!"

Ronni was confused. "Wait. So the police didn't say anything to you about there being something odd about the vandalism?"

"No."

"Huh. Weird." Had the nurse who called her lied about something bothering the police? Ronni decided to call the officers and find out more. "Did they leave a phone number to contact them?"

"Yes, here." Pete handed her a business card. "So about that woman ..."

"Thanks. As for the woman, she really wanted to speak with me about something, but I don't know what. I'll follow up on that tomorrow, too."

"Who are you two discussing?" asked Julia.

"She said her name is Ms. Banning."

"Bah! That evil witch. Don't ever tell her anything."

Ronni raised her eyebrows. "Do you know her? Who is she?"

"She's in charge of this place. Always digging around in people's personal affairs and wrecking their lives. I've never liked her. She gets under my skin!"

Ronni chuckled. "I know what you mean. I feel the same way. Does she know anything about Billy or the jewelry?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"She implied she knew about some crimes you committed long ago."

"You two are the only people I've ever spoken to about Billy. Oh dear. What if she does know something?"

"Don't worry, Julia. I'll see what I can discover."

"You're not actually going to talk to her, are you?" asked Pete.

"Why not? She invited me to. It's an opportunity to find out what she knows, especially if I make her think she's got the upper hand in the conversation."

"How are you going to manage that?" he asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but I'll figure something out."

"Please be careful," said Julia, wringing her hands. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"What's the matter, Julia?"

"I was so relieved to finally share my secret with someone. You two have been so kind. But now things are a disaster. I don't want any more trouble for anybody."

Ronni gently grasped the older woman's hands to reassure her. "I'll be fine, Julia. I promise. We'll all be fine."

"We should probably go and let you get some rest," added Pete. "We'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Julia. See you soon."

Nobody even glanced at them as they exited. The foul woman was nowhere to be seen. Ronni and Pete said goodbye to each other at the front door after agreeing to touch base via phone that evening.

As she entered the turnpike, something still bothered Ronni. Something about Ms. Banning. She hadn't pinpointed what, but things had a way of sorting themselves out in her brain when she drove. She hoped the trip back to Lawrence was long enough for that. She looked forward to sharing whatever it was with Pete because he was such a contrast to that nasty Charles. Something else she looked forward to — the end of her undercover assignment and thus the need to pretend she was head over heels with Charles. She didn't even want to think about him. Charles and his study group. Charles and his "twenty moves ahead" nonsense. Charles and his mysterious phone calls. Charles and his mother.

Ronni slapped the wheel. "His mother! That's it."

She immediately dialed Pete.

"Hello, Lovely. I thought we were supposed to touch base later."

"Yes, we were, but ..."

"Are you home already?"

"No. But it just now hit me. Ms. Banning is Charles' mother."

"What?"

"I said Ms. Banning is Charles' mother. My boyfriend."

"Yes, I heard you, and I know who your boyfriend is. I thought you already knew his family or at least their names. Charlie Banning, huh."

"Actually, I don't. Wait. What?"

"What what?"

"What did you call him?"

"Charlie Banning."

"That name sounds familiar."

"Yes, I know. That's your boyfriend's name, right? It'd better sound familiar."

"No, I mean from somewhere else. And no, it isn't. Oh, what is it?"

Pete laughed. "Okay, I'm Super Librarian, but I'm not that good. You lost me there, Ronni. I truly have no idea what you're talking about. What's your boyfriend's name?"

"What?"

"Do we have a bad connection?" Pete asked.

"No. I was distracted by trying to remember where I've heard that name before. What did you say?"

"What's your boyfriend's name?"

"Charles."

"I mean his last name. Why didn't you know that Ms. Banning was Charles' mother right away? Don't he and his parents share the same surname?"

"I don't know."

"Seriously?" He sounded annoyed. "Well, how long have you been dating this dud-muffin? You're not honestly telling me you don't even know his last name or anything about his family. That's ridiculous. He's not really much of a boyfriend, is he?"

Ronni bit her lip. She wanted to blurt out her entire story to him right this second. "Not now, Pete. This is important."

"I agree. This is important. You don't know his last name. You ..."

"That's not true," she interrupted. "His last name is Christopher. He said he legally changed his name a few years ago. Something to do with his family's history. But I don't know what surname his parents go by because I never asked. "

"That proves my point."

"What point?"

"You don't seem to really care about him or his family. I'd think you'd want to know his parents' names. And you've apparently never met either of them before today. You and he don't click. You're not compatible. Plus, he treats you like crap! What do you see in this guy anyway? Why are you with him? It's certainly not that you adore his mother."

"Well, you're right about that. She was horrible and ... Oh, yuck!"

"Oh yuck, what?"

"I just remembered. He mentioned we were having lunch with his mother this Sunday."

"Well, won't that be special?"

"Pete, stop it. Why are you so weird suddenly? This is hard enough. I don't need you being weird."

"Me? Why are you so weird? You seem like such a common-sense gal, Ronni. But you keep hanging around with that loser. So either you're actually crazy or there's a darn good reason for it."

Ronni didn't answer him.

"Are you there? Ronni?"

"Yes, Pete. I'm still here."

"So are you going to tell me what's really going on or not?"

"I can't ... I can't give you any satisfactory answers, Pete. Things are as they are right now, okay?"

She heard Pete sigh. He mumbled, "I'd better hang up. Traffic's getting heavy."

"Okay. Bye."

She hung up. At least she was almost home. When she pulled up to her apartment and parked, the tears flowed. She couldn't help it. She liked Pete but couldn't date him, and loathed Charles but had to date him. Both of them were pressuring her to give them things she couldn't give. She didn't wish to hurt Pete, but she couldn't simply walk away from Charles. It was her job to be with Charles. What a complicated mess!

Once inside, Ronni made a beeline for her bed. She decided a call to Uncle Dallas and everything else she was supposed to pursue could wait until tomorrow. A good night's sleep might help un-complicate matters.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Ronni rolled over and stared at the door. The sun streamed through her window.

"Who is it?"

"Your gorgeous roommate Donna," came the singsongy reply.

"Unh. Come in."

"Hey," Donna said.

"Hi, Donna. What's up?"

"Nothing. I haven't seen you the last couple days. I'm about to head out for class again so thought I'd at least say hello before I left. Anything interesting going on?"

"Mmmm. Yeah, but if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"You're funny when you're half awake, Ronni. Did you know that?"

"Mmmm. Yeah, I guess."

"By the way, this came for you yesterday afternoon. It looks important." Donna handed her an envelope.

Ronni tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents. Then the room began to spin and fade. She blacked out.

CHAPTER 13 by D. L. Rose

Ronni came to with Donna crouched above her, worry creasing her forehead. She started to sit up, but Donna held her down.

"Whoa. Are you okay? Maybe you shouldn't be rushing to get back up so fast. Do you need food? Juice?"

Ronni waved her concerns away and tried again to sit up. She hadn't realized Donna could worry like that. But the last thing she needed was to end up bundled in bed with chicken soup.

"I'm fine," she said. and it was only partly a lie. Physically, she probably was fine. Mentally and emotionally? Not so much.

"Are you sure? I can call Pete. I don't want to leave you alone and have something terrible happen while I'm in class." Something terrible already had happened, but Ronni wasn't about to say that to Donna. Especially not while she looked so worried.

"Sure. Call Pete so you can feel better and get to class. I don't want you failing because I had a little spill." Donna looked as though maybe she wanted to refute the "little spill" part of her statement, but thankfully she said nothing. Instead she moved into the other room to call her brother, leaving Ronni alone.

Ronni let out a sigh of relief and reached over to retrieve the picture from where it had drifted. She turned it over and forced herself to comb it for details. Everything depended on the details.

Plain wall in the background. Thick rope around her, probably something you could pick up at any hardware store. Basic bandanna in her mouth.

She shied away from examining her mother's eyes in the picture. If anything was reflected in them other than terror, she probably wouldn't have been able to make it out without some computer assistance anyway. Taking a deep breath, Ronni slipped the picture back into the envelope and closed her bedroom door. Climbing underneath her bed, she retrieved the phone that she kept taped to the back side of her headboard and crawled back out before turning it on to dial the only number in the phone's contacts.

"Ronni?" came the answer from the other end. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you until next week. Is something wrong?"

"Yes," she hissed, trying to keep her voice low enough that Donna wouldn't hear. "Everything is wrong! What have you gotten me into? I'm being followed, people are dying, and now my mother has been kidnapped."

"Your mother?" he asked. "By who? Who even knows about your mother?"

"At this point, I don't know. Not Charles." She ran a hand through her hair and let out a breath. "I don't know where this goes, but he is the tip of the iceberg. And the cheating ring isn't what they're after. People don't kill over test scores."

"Are you sure?" he asked with a snort. "People get pretty competitive."

"Please don't make jokes right now."

"Fine," he said. "I've got your report. You know we can't go in right now without blowing the whole investigation. But I'll send you a special pizza. If they call for ransom, get it recorded and send it to me as soon as you can. We'll worry about finding your mom. You worry about protecting Julia."

Ronni shook her head but agreed out loud. She wanted to be finding her mom and letting someone else protect Julia. Especially since she still hadn't figured out how her cheating ring investigation could have led to the elderly woman in the first place. There was a knock on her bedroom door and she jumped.

"Gotta go," she whispered into the phone. Hanging up, she hid the phone behind her back and moved to her door. Opening it a crack, she smiled at Donna.

"Pete's coming over. I have to go to class, but I should be back not long after he gets here. He was at work, so it'll be a bit of a drive. You sit. Okay? Don't do anything dangerous while I'm gone."

Ronni held back a laugh. Breathing felt pretty dangerous at the moment.

"I promise. Nothing dangerous. Go to class." Donna nodded, and Ronni was left alone. Moving to the computer she shared with Donna, Ronni rushed to scan the picture of her mother. She emailed it to her contact, then erased it from the drive. By the time she'd finished that, she'd received her "pizza" delivery and added the tiny attachment to her phone. She'd barely sat down after that when there was a knock on the front door. With just a glance out the peephole, she swung the door open wide.

"Geez, Pete. How fast did you drive? I wasn't expecting you for at least another 10 minutes."

"Why? You gonna write me a ticket?" Rolling her eyes, she pulled Pete into the apartment and shut the door behind her. Clearly he was still upset about her being a cop.

"Nice of you to tell the whole neighborhood. Thanks." His sheepish expression nearly made her apologize for her sarcasm, but she couldn't afford to get too friendly with him. Not now.
"Donna said you passed out. Are you okay?" he asked. She allowed him to change the subject only because she didn't want the awkward silence to last any longer.

"I'm fine. I just got some bad news. Really bad news."

"Bad enough that you passed out?" He sounded skeptical, and she didn't blame him. Rather than answer his questions, she found the envelope and passed it to him. She sat on the couch as he opened it, staring at her phone and willing it to ring.

"Whoa," he breathed, looking at the picture. "Who is this?"

"My mother," she said, rubbing her face. "My real one."

"What do you mean, your real one?" he asked. She sighed and leaned back on the couch.

"I'm undercover. I can't exactly be dragging my mother to dinner dates. I had a fake mother to go with the rest of my fake life. But that's my real mother. And I have no idea how anyone could have found her." It was quiet for a moment as the enormity of her situation sunk in. This time, Ronni didn't mind the silence.

"So, which mom was having the blood pressure problems?" Pete asked. All the blood drained from her face at his words. Ronni knew Pete didn't need to hear her response. He simply moved to sit next to her on the couch, wrapping his arms around her. "She's going to be fine," he reassured her. "But maybe you need to call the police." She couldn't help but laugh.

"I am the police, remember? I'm just waiting for the phone to ring. Whoever sent me that picture has to call me with their demands at some point, right?" He pulled away, and she missed his closeness.

"What does it mean if they don't call?" he asked. It was a question she didn't want to answer. Thankfully, her phone chose that moment to ring, saving her from having to. She'd never answered a call so quickly in her life, and it was pressed to her ear before the first ring was over.

"Hello?"

"You've received our message," a woman's voice said. She sounded familiar, but Ronni couldn't figure out who she was.

"Yes," she said, though the woman hadn't asked a question.

"We'd be willing to let bygones be bygones if you hand over the jewels," the woman said. "And the jewel thief."

"Julia isn't a thief," Ronni said. She couldn't outright refuse their demands. It would mean choosing Julia over her own mother, and she couldn't even contemplate that. "I want to talk to my mother," she added. The woman on the other end laughed.

"She's fine. She's resting now. Kidnapping is hard on the blood pressure." Ronni could feel tears building, and she turned around, not wanting Pete to see her cry. A hysterical breakdown might be fine for Ronni the anthropology student, but she was Ronni the undercover agent now, and if he saw her cry she wasn't sure he'd ever trust her instincts again.

"No point in negotiating with you if I don't have assurance that she's alive," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. Another laugh from the other end.

"If you plan to negotiate at all, you'll have to keep your boss out of things. I think we both know his policy in that regard." There was a pause, and Ronni had to literally bite her tongue to keep from breaking the silence. Too much talking would interfere with any background noises from the other end.

"Fine, Veronica," the voice said with a sigh. "I'll have your mother call you in five minutes. After that, you'd better be ready to make a deal." The call ended before Ronni could reply.

An hour later, Ronni paced the floor while Pete watched, an amused smile on his face. She wasn't sure how he could be so calm, but someone had to be. The short phone call with her mother had done little to settle her nerves.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked. He shrugged.

"I just thought of something. Why did you need a fake mom?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. There was no guarantee that he was taking their conversation anywhere useful, but she supposed she'd have to go along with it for now.

"Charles and I had been dating long enough that it was about time to meet the parents. I couldn't very well introduce him to my real mother. I couldn't be sure she wouldn't accidentally mention my real job." Pete leaned back with a satisfied smile. Ronni raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're dating Charles for your job," he said.

"So?"

"So I just wanted to hear that. Despite my misgivings about your job, I am still interested."

Rubbing at her forehead, she sighed again. Why did he have to push her on everything?

"By the time my investigation is over, you won't be nearly so interested."

"Why not?"

"I told you what I'm investigating, right?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. Some cheating ring."

"They're cheating on the bar exam," she said, hoping he'd get it without her having to say it out loud.

"So?" he said, but she could tell when he finally figured it out. He stood up and actually looked angry for the first time since she'd met him. "So Donna's a law student. You're friends with her because of your job." The accusation in his eyes twisted Ronni's stomach into knots.

"I'm roommates with Donna because of my job. I'm friends with her because I like her." He seemed unconvinced and Ronni couldn't really blame him. "It's not like it's easy to lie to everyone around you," she said.

"Yeah. I'm sure it gives you headaches." If she hadn't felt so terrible already, she might have commented on his sarcasm. As it was, she headed to the kitchen to get herself a drink. Her boss should be calling her any moment with an update on their search for her mother. If they didn't find her soon, Ronni might have to go looking for her alone. Pulling down a glass, she wondered if they still had any alcohol from their housewarming party. She climbed up on the counter and rummaged around in the tops of the cupboards.

"What are you doing?"

Ronni nearly fell off the counter when Pete spoke from behind her.

"Geez. Make some noise when you walk, will you?" She returned to rummaging through the cupboards.

"Okay." Pete stomped on the floor a couple times, then held his hands out. "Now, what are you doing?"

"I'm looking for something to drink."

"I think that's what a refrigerator is for." It suddenly annoyed her that he spoke so intelligently. Who actually said refrigerator anymore? It was a fridge.

"Look," she said, sticking her hand into the cranny at the back of a cupboard. "My mother's kidnapped, my fake boyfriend is probably a killer, there are people trying to steal from a sweet old lady I've recently befriended, and this guy won't stop hitting on me even though my life is just a little bit insane at the moment. I need a real drink." Her brow wrinkled in confusion as her fingers hit something that was definitely not alcohol, but wasn't supposed to be in the cupboard, either. Pulling it out, she stared at the prepaid cell phone in her hand. "What is this?" Flipping it open, she tried to figure out what it might have been doing hidden in the kitchen. But there was only one name in the contacts.

Mother.

CHAPTER 14 by Rae Kary Staab & Elizabeth Staab Van Deusen

"Weird place for your phone," said Pete, propping his elbow against the wooden door frame. "Has it been lost for a while?"

"It isn't mine!" Ronni protested. She waved the phone in Pete's face. "Look at it. One contact. And it says 'Mother,' just like on Charles' phone."

"You were snooping through his phone?" asked Pete.

"Of course I was, when I got half a chance. I'm an undercover police officer, for crying out loud. It's not like I'm just a jealous girlfriend."

A slight twist of a smile flitted across Pete's face. "Wow, you're really dedicated to your work."

"Anyway, I don't want to waste my time messing around with some jerk of a law student when my mother is being held prisoner. I'm glad he canceled our date for tonight."

This time the smile stayed on Pete's face for just an instant longer. "So that's why you didn't have other plans. Hey, I am really sorry about your mother." His smile melted into an expression of sympathy and concern. "I'm assuming you don't want to come to my gig tonight after all. I really wish I could help."

Ronni's phone rang, and she almost dropped it in her haste to answer. "Hello?"

"Hello," said Julia. "I'm afraid I can't make it to the performance tonight after all. The nurses say that I've already had too much excitement for the week and must rest a bit. I am dreadfully sorry."

"Oh," said Ronni, in a voice like a bowl of wilted salad. "I'm sorry, too."

"What happened now?" asked Pete, and Ronni handed him the phone.

"Oh, hi, Julia," she heard him saying. "Oh, that's terrible! It won't be the same without you, Julia. Don't worry, there will be another chance to hear our jazz ensemble. I'll make sure of it. You have a lovely afternoon, too, Julia. Goodbye." He handed Ronni's phone back to her. "Now what?"

"I don't know what," said Ronni. "Really, I don't. My boss wants me to keep doing my job and let someone else in the force find my mother. That would be the most practical thing to do. But I don't feel like being practical. I feel like I'm going insane." Ronni knew she was leaking sensitive information, but her nerves were at the breaking point, and she just didn't care. She sat down in a chair, flopped her head up over the back of it, and closed her eyes.

"Well, I've got a plan," said Pete, getting a glass out of the cupboard and filling it from the pitcher in the fridge. "Not about your mother – sorry. About Julia and the music. I bet I can get the guys to have a practice over in the Topeka nursing home so she can hear us rehearse. We don't have to be at our gig until nine in the evening. There's plenty of time to drive to Topeka and back." He handed the glass to Ronni and made a nudging movement with his head.

"That's a lot of extra gas," said Ronni absentmindedly, taking a sip of water.

"It's totally worth it," said Pete. "She's a hundred and eight. That makes anything she wants to listen to the coolest thing in Topeka." He gave a weird little wink, and Ronni suspected that he was trying to distract her from her worries. It wasn't working, of course; she couldn't just forget when a member of her family was in danger. One part of Ronni was annoyed at Pete for not realizing that, but another part of her appreciated that he had at least tried. She took a deep breath and drained the glass of water.

"I guess I'll go with you to see Julia," said Ronni, thinking that at least it would be something to do that didn't involve Charles. She briefly considered touching base with Uncle Dallas to see if he knew who had been caught in their impromptu speed trap, then decided not to because she would then have to tell him what had happened to her mother. At least she could put that off a little longer.

Ronni took a speedy shower and threw some things into her largest purse while Pete went out to tell the rest of the jazz band to get ready to go to Topeka. At the last moment, she put the strange cell phone into her purse with everything else, first switching off the power and then shoving it to the very bottom underneath her wallet and makeup kit. Then she climbed into the dark blue Chrysler van that Pete's trumpet-playing buddy Ernest had offered to drive everyone in. She politely refused the front passenger-side seat and squeezed into the very back, preferring to sit in a place where she could turn her head aside and hide her face.

Just as the van was about to pull out of the parking lot, Donna got home from class. Pete rolled down his window and told her where they were going.

"Hey, I want to go!" said Donna. "I haven't met Julia. She sounds like a sweet lady, and I've never talked to anyone older than a hundred before." She adjusted the strap on her backpack a little higher on her shoulder.

"Hop in," said one of the band members, opening a door for her.

"Great!" said Donna, as the guys moved aside to let her slip past and sit next to Ronni in the back of the van. The backpack got shoved under the seat in front of Donna, since a saxophone, clarinet, drum set, keyboard, trumpet, and bass already filled most of the van.

"Hey, isn't this exciting? We've got a jazz band, a hundred-plus-year-old lady, and a couple of cute girls. Sounds like a party to me!" Donna said. Recalling that Donna had no idea her mother had been kidnapped, Ronni gritted her teeth and forgave her cheerfulness.

"Hey, who's the driver?" said Donna, after they'd gone a few miles down the road. "I know all the rest of the guys, but I think he's new."

"New at least two years ago, Sis," said Pete. "This is Ernest, trumpet player extraordinaire. You know I told you that Jake was moving away, right? Back when you were fussing about making it through your first year of law school. Anyway, that left us without a trumpet player, so we got hold of Ernest through Tyler's church."

"Yeah," said Tyler, turning his head so Ronni could see that he was wearing a loud orange and white hat that displayed I Love My Saxophone in big green letters. The word Love was replaced by a fluorescent pink cartoon heart. "Ernest played special music for the service a couple of times, so I knew he was good."

"Anyway, Tyler knew Ernest from church," Pete continued, "so we asked if he would play a few gigs with us to see how he fit with the group, and he's been with us ever since. I'm surprised you haven't met him, Donna."

"I guess I need to get out more and check on what my big brother is up to," said Donna. "My life needs a bit more jazz."

"Amen, sister," said Tyler, tipping his obnoxious hat to her.

"Hey, let's sing something fun," said Ernest, changing the subject.

At the east Topeka toll booth, the van slowed and rolled through without stopping because the van had a pre-paid K-Tag that was read electronically. In her distress, Ronni's thoughts suddenly turned to a comparison between toll gates and heavenly gates. Her mother had once said that knowing Jesus was like having someone else pay for a K-Tag to get through a toll gate for free; the difference was that the toll for the heavenly gates was so high that she could never have paid it on her own. Ronni hoped that her mother's faith was helping her in the current ordeal, and she prayed silently, for the first time in years, begging God for her mother's life and safety.

Ronni thought that it had to be the longest half-hour road trip of her life, with Donna and the boys providing a rousing chorus of "Yellow Submarine" as a background to her anxious thoughts. Eventually, though, Ernest pulled up in front of the nursing home, and the band started to unload their instruments while Pete went to the front desk to sign them all in. Ronni climbed out of the van as soon as the way was clear.

"Hey, Ronni," said Donna, poking her head out of the van. "Do you know where there's a ladies' room?"

"You know, I don't think I do," said Ronni. "I guess we could go and find one." She and Donna went into the nursing home ahead of the guys and went hunting for a public rest room.

"Oh, we're with the jazz band," said Donna airily, as she walked past the desk without signing in. "Just going to the powder room." The nurse furrowed her brow a little but didn't say anything, since she was still listening to Pete explain what they were all doing there. Ronni thought she must have walked past a restroom at some point, but she couldn't think of where. She was about to suggest that Donna politely ask Julia if she could use her bathroom when Donna suddenly stopped at the end of the fifth hallway they'd walked down.

"Hey, look," said Donna. "It's a stairwell. I thought nursing homes didn't usually have basements."

"I suspect it doesn't get a lot of use," said Ronni, shaking her head. "Maybe the building was converted from something else..." Ronni trailed off as she watched her roommate. "Donna, what are you doing?"

Donna had opened the door to the stairwell. "Oh, just looking around," she said.

"You're going to get us kicked out," said Ronni. And wouldn't that just round off her day perfectly.

"Well, there aren't any bathrooms on this floor," said Donna, stepping through.

"Donna, every room has its own bathroom," said Ronni. "Just ask to use Julia's."

"I don't know Julia," said Donna. "Wouldn't that be a bit awkward? Hi, I'm more than eighty years younger than you, nice to meet you, can I use your bathroom? No way." She started to close the door between her and Ronni, but Ronni stuck her foot in it and followed her.

"You know, they probably have security cameras around here somewhere," she protested.

"I'm looking for the bathroom," said Donna, opening her eyes wide and biting her lips in a shocking display of false innocence.

"Donna!" said Ronni. "What are you really up to?"

"Oh, just curious," said Donna. "And keeping an eye out for anything odd. Outsiders don't just get in and vandalize nursing homes, you know; their security is too good, even if anybody bothered. Either they've got horrible security issues, or Julia's room getting messed up was an inside job. Maybe both. Either way..."

"I can't believe I didn't think of that," said Ronni, following Donna down the badly-lit stairwell. "But if we get caught and arrested for trespassing, it's on you."

Donna didn't answer that comment and kept walking. At the bottom of the steps was a partly finished basement hallway with a poured cement floor and a flowered carpet runner that was a bit frayed along the edges. It looked like a cheap, ancient hotel, with numbered doors along one side and blank cement-block walls on the other.

"Weird basement," said Donna. "I wonder what's behind those doors?"

"That one's pretty obvious," said Ronni, pointing at the door that was marked with a peeling black and yellow "Tornado Shelter" sticker instead of a number. "But they can't possibly use it for the residents, not without an elevator. They would have special safe rooms on the ground floor instead."

"Exactly," said Donna, moving toward that doorway. "Let's look in there first!"

"We can't just go around opening doors," said Ronni, but Donna had already pushed open the heavy door and peered inside. It was dark as, well, what it was — an underground room with no windows — so there was nothing visible until Donna had felt for and found the light switch next to the door frame. Ronni, who had stepped into the room as well, blinked away stars and looked around. The tornado shelter contained a five-gallon water cooler, several extra water bottles for it, and a stack of cardboard boxes.

"Wow, somebody really is ready for a disaster," said Donna, pursing her lips. "That's a lot of bottled water."

Just then, the girls heard footsteps coming down the stairway behind them. Not knowing what else to do, Ronni flipped off the lights and shoved Donna behind the boxes. She was pretty sure that Donna's excuse of looking for a bathroom was not going to hold up if challenged, and she had a feeling that they would discover something if they weren't discovered first.

Heavy yet confident footsteps approached the doorway to the shelter, and the light flicked on again. Ronni hoped she and Donna were well-hidden – they couldn't see any part of the doorway, so chances were good that they couldn't be seen, either. If their luck held, the man wouldn't need to get anything out of the boxes.

"Of all the inconvenient times to have to worry about a police investigation," muttered a familiar voice. "Well, this is as good a hiding place as any down here. They won't search too hard, not with the focus so much on Julia. Poor old fool," he added. "She can't possibly know as much as they think. I suspect that the Westfeld jewels will never be found." Ronni almost choked when she heard the man step closer to the boxes, but a rustling noise at the front of the pile announced that he hadn't bothered to bury whatever he wanted to hide very deeply. "Now to check on that ridiculous woman in room fourteen," he sighed a moment later, and then the girls were alone again in the dark.

"That sounded like Charles," said Donna. "Wow, your boyfriend really is a jerk."

"He's not really my boyfriend," said Ronni in exasperation. "It's a long story. But he definitely is a jerk."

"Let's see what he came down here to hide, then," said Donna, slipping out from behind the boxes and turning the light back on.

"I'm way ahead of you," said Ronni, who had already pulled open the first box in the area she'd heard the rustling noise. It was full of canned goods, mostly creamed corn and chicken noodle soup. Nothing looked suspicious, so Ronni opened the box next to it. This one at first seemed to be full of nothing but flashlights and rain ponchos, but Ronni noticed a lumpy-looking poncho at the back and unwrapped it to find a leather journal that had to be several decades old. "I bet this is it," she said.

"So let's take it," said Donna. "It'll fit just fine in that giant purse of yours. And if he comes back and can't find it, he'll probably just think he doesn't remember what box he put it in."

Ronni had her own reasons for appropriating anything Charles wanted to hide. The desire to finally get some information won out over the fear that taking the journal would put Charles on his guard and hurt her investigation, so she slipped it into her bag. "Let's get out of here before someone comes looking for us," she urged. "There's just no excuse if we're found here."

"Worst they'll probably do is kick us out," said Donna cheerfully. "I think."

"And you call yourself a law student," said Ronni, rolling her eyes. "Donna, you have no idea what we're dealing with. These people are deadly."

"It's just Charles," said Donna. "But don't worry, I can keep my mouth shut."

Deciding that Donna was more dangerous in her ignorance, Ronni determined to give her enough information to scare her into non-interference as soon as there was a chance. Helpful or not, Donna's tactics were just too risky.

Returning as discreetly as possible to the ground floor of the nursing home, the girls eventually found a restroom; the door was hidden behind two fake trees. "I guess it needs cleaning," said Donna, shrugging her shoulders. "Oh, well, I mostly just wanted to redo my hair, anyway." She pulled her curly auburn hair out of its elastic ponytail holder and shook it down around her shoulders. "Good enough. Where's the party?"

The music floating through all the hallways made it easy enough to find the jazz band, and they really did seem to be having a party. They had gotten permission to set up in the residents' dining room and were entertaining Julia and fifteen or twenty other elderly people who were obviously enjoying the performance immensely. Most of the more lucid-looking residents were smiling at the musicians and tapping their toes or nodding their heads.

"Ronni, darling, this is a lovely surprise!" said Julia when she saw the girls. "I was rather sad to miss out on the concert this evening, but this is really almost as nice. Young Pete has quite an accomplished group. Everyone is having so much fun."

"It certainly looks like everyone showed up to listen," Ronni observed.

"All except that woman in room fourteen," said Julia, shaking her head. "Poor dear never even comes out to meals. And so young to be in a place like this, too. I saw her once when I happened by as one of the nurses went into her room with medication. I believe she sleeps most of the time."

"That's really sad," said Ronni vaguely, then suddenly remembered that Charles had mentioned a "woman in room fourteen" while talking to himself in the basement. "Does the woman in room fourteen ever have any visitors?"

"I don't believe so," said Julia.

"Donna and I will go and pay her a visit," said Ronni decisively. "Julia, would you like to come along?" She really hoped that Charles had already come and gone; she certainly didn't want to run into him.

Julia's face lit up. "Of course! That's such a nice idea. I'll show you where she is." Julia began to amble down the hallway, followed by the two girls. The band was still playing, and even the nurses were listening so attentively that they didn't notice Ronni boldly opening the door to room fourteen.

When Ronni saw who was lying in the bed, she almost blacked out again.

"Mom!" she exclaimed, and she was at the side of the bed in a second, putting her hand on her mother's shoulder. But her mother did not respond. She was in a very deep sleep, obviously drugged. "Donna, Julia, this is my mother. She doesn't belong here. She was kidnapped this week. We've got to get her out of here!"

"How exciting!" said Julia. "An escape!" She rubbed her hands together happily. "Just like the old days of danger and intrigue. I have a wheelchair in my room," she added. "You can borrow it."

Julia told Donna where to find the wheelchair, and Donna slipped out to get it while Ronni stroked her mother's hair and felt her pulse and cried with relief. There was no telling what drugs were in her system, but she was sure that if they could only get her mother out of Lakeview Manor she would be all right before long. Ronni called up Uncle Dallas again for help.

"You need to break Virginia out of a nursing home?" said Uncle Dallas incredulously. "I'll be right there, Ronni. You get her to the back parking lot, and I'll get her out of Topeka and to somewhere safe."

Ronni gave him directions to Lakeview Manor, then thanked him and hung up. When Donna got back, she helped Ronni lift her mother out of the bed and prop her up in the wheelchair. "The band is on the last song," she announced. "We've got to move."

Ronni took several deep breaths and then pushed the wheelchair out into the hallway, trying to look as if she were not nervous. Assuming that her mother was not a properly registered patient and would not be recognized by the nurse on duty at the desk, she sauntered right by and smiled at the nurse, saying, "My mother fell asleep listening to all the beautiful music. Is it all right if I bring the wheelchair back after I help her into the car?" The nurse nodded absentmindedly, still listening to the last strains of thrilling jazz music and not looking very closely at either Ronni or her mother. Donna and Julia had slipped back into the crowd of listeners.

Out in the parking lot, Ronni tapped her foot anxiously while waiting for Uncle Dallas. It was really only about ten minutes, but it seemed like thirty before he pulled up in that same dark green Crown Victoria and hopped out to lend his still-strong shoulder to heave Ronni's mother into the back seat.

"Sorry for the delay," he said as he shut the car door. "I took five minutes to lay down some blankets. Any particular time and place you want to meet up again, after I get her checked by a doctor?"

"Gage Park," said Ronni suddenly. "If you think that's safe enough. Send me a text message about pancakes when Mom is awake and ready to see me. I hate to let her out of my sight, but I have to stay undercover — I still need to come back here and see Julia." It was one of the hardest things she could imagine doing not to get into the car herself, but Ronni knew that if she disappeared at the same time, it could make her family even more of a target. She watched reluctantly as Uncle Dallas drove away, then went back inside to return the wheelchair.

"Where were you girls for so long?" said Pete, as they drove away in the van after many compliments from both residents and staff. "It can't possibly have taken you the whole time to find a bathroom. Is everything all right?" He had traded seats with Tyler and was sitting directly in front of Ronni.

"Yes, everything is fine," said Ronni, sighing with relief. "I'll tell you all about it once we're back in Lawrence. I think I'll go to your gig after all."

Pete turned his head to look at her, raising his eyebrows and shrugging his shoulders. "I guess everything must really be fine," he said quietly, as the rest of the band continued to talk about the coming performance. "What happened?"

"I really will explain later," said Ronni, pulling the old journal out of her purse and handing it to Pete as secretly as she could manage. "But here, take this. You'll probably be able to read it quicker than I will. Let me know what you find out, Mr. Librarian."

A few days later, Ronni received a text message from Uncle Dallas reading "Hey, Ronni, we should spend more time together. Let's go out for pancakes."

Unfortunately, Ronni's car still hadn't had the starter fixed, so she decided to depend on Pete to give her a ride. She was eager to hear what he had found out, too, and she thought he could help her relax after a rather harrowing meeting with Charles' mother on Sunday. Between the woman's expensive clothes, onyx jewelry, and dismissive manners — when she wasn't on the phone with someone else — she made Ronni feel like yesterday's watermelon rinds. And she was indeed Ms. Banning, the same woman who had accosted her at the nursing home once, so Ronni had spent the whole visit being terribly careful not to say anything about Julia or Lakeview Manor, which didn't leave her much to talk about. Ronni found herself looking forward to a car ride with Pete as an interlude of peace and sanity.

The ride to Topeka was as productive as it was peaceful; not only had Pete read the old journal, he had discovered a most unusual contact list slipped into it as a bookmark. "Not only was there a man on there who's an examiner for the bar exam," Pete explained. "There's also the head of that scam charity that was in the news a couple of months ago. The one that still hasn't been shut down because they haven't proved that the elderly folks who donated to it didn't want their money to go toward buying modern art for hospitals from a woman who is also on the contact list. And there's a family tree on the back of the same sheet of paper. They're all related to your boyfriend Charles. The man who wrote the journal was an ancestor of the whole lot — crooked as a dog's hind leg, as my grandfather used to say. I think this John Markham Smith was from the same time period as Julia's Bill the Bootlegger ... He mentions a big job that was a total bust because one of his partners wanted to back out and 'return the goods,' but they fought and the 'goods' were never found. I looked up the dates. That entry was written just after the Westfeld heist — he could have been the third man that the witness saw. I don't know how he dared write some of that stuff down."

"It's plenty incriminating," said Ronni, shaking her head.

"It's just like my grandfather always said when I helped him around the farm when I was a kid," said Pete. "It's always easier to know what a man's about when you know whose kid he is and who his friends are. It's like a barbed wire fence — if you know how it's all connected, it's easy to not get pricked."

"I'll remember that," said Ronni, then startled as her phone rang. She was tempted not to answer it when she saw that the call was from Charles, but she decided it was safer not to ignore him.

"Veronica," said Charles, in his usual arrogant tone, "I need you to meet me at the Pyrenees restaurant as soon as you possibly can. It's of the utmost importance."

"I'm rather busy at the moment," said Ronni, annoyed at being interrupted in her conversation with Pete and also impatient to get to Gage Park and see her mother.

"I won't take no for an answer," said Charles. "I'll see you in twenty minutes. Goodbye." And he hung up.

"Wow, that's rude," said Pete, who had sharp ears and had heard most of the conversation. "Do you want me to turn around and take you there? I can't say I recommend it. Besides, I looked the guy up — he doesn't need to be in law school, he's already been admitted to the bar."

"I'd really better," said Ronni reluctantly. "Wait — already a lawyer? That doesn't make any sense — unless he's in on the cheating scandal, but I thought he was a random choice to get me closer to some law students. My boss must know more than he told me. Maybe I can see what Charles wants and then go on to Gage Park —hopefully it won't take very long."

Pete sighed and took the next exit where he could turn around. The ride to the Pyrenees was awkwardly silent, and Ronni was not in the best mood when Pete dropped her off. "Call me when you need a ride," said Pete, as Ronni stepped out and closed the car door. She slung her purse over her shoulder and walked inside the restaurant.

"Ah, there you are, Veronica," said Charles, who was dressed in a cream-colored suit with a red rose in the lapel. He ushered her to a table with a dozen more red roses in a vase, and then he stiffly got down on one knee. "Veronica, I'm a man who knows what he wants and wastes no time in getting it. And you are what I want, Veronica, darling — will you marry me?"

CHAPTER 15 by Romualdo R. Chavez

The Darkest Hour

Mike's Mirage was packed. Everywhere Julia looked, she could see movement. The hustle and bustle of patrons walking to and from the bar, laughing, stumbling, and simply having a good time was something she never thought she'd be so happy to see. A cloud of smoke, thick with the sweet and woody smells from men's Colorado Claros, settled over the tops of patrons' heads like a dense fog. Bursts of laughter from tables nearby caught her attention. Men were dressed in their two-button short jackets with whiskey glasses in one hand and their other arm wrapped around their dates' shoulders, their hands caressing possessively. Julia gawked at how radiant the women appeared. They sat in languid poses with bobbed hair, waist-length pearl necklaces, and knee-length dresses with dropped waists.

The flurry of activity was exactly like Julia remembered. A tall, burly beast of a man stood by the entrance. He appeared formidable and intimidating, but to her, he was simply Hal. He caught her eye and nodded in a slight greeting. She caught a glimpse of a familiar mane of jet black hair. It was Rosie, balancing her tray of drinks and greeting customers as she went. But nothing made her heart flutter more than when she saw Billy hauling coolers of ice to the back of the bar. He handed them off to Mike Ward, who was doing his best to keep pace with the demand for more liquor. The tinkling sound of ice being scooped up and dropped into glasses was like music to her ears. On his way back to the storage room, Billy stopped and turned his head back in her direction. She felt her eyes begin to well up and brought a hand up to shield her face from the crowd, but that's when she noticed something strange. Her rice-paper skin had been replaced with smooth and wrinkle free pink flesh. Upon a closer inspection of herself, she appeared to have de-aged. Even her hair had returned to its natural platinum blonde splendor.

"We're ready when you are, Julia," a voice from behind her said, startling her. She turned around and familiar faces smiled back at her as they fiddled with their instruments and awaited her cue. One player in particular seemed out of place. It was Pete, or someone that looked very similar to him. The lights suddenly dimmed, and at that moment all eyes focused up at the stage where she stood, several decades younger, hair bobbed, and wearing her favorite sheath with a sheer, beaded overdress.

"I'm ready," she said to the band behind her. The familiar bars of her favorite song burst from each instrument, making her sway to their hypnotic beat. She caught Billy's eye, and he gave her a big smile. It was all she needed to begin belting out the lyrics to "Get Happy". Everyone in the audience bobbed to the music. Women pulled on their dates' sleeves and beckoned them to dance. Julia couldn't help but notice that the men admired her beauty and natural charisma on stage and couldn't pull their gazes away from her. I'm home, she thought. All her worries seem to dissipate. She knew it wasn't real, of course. Had she really traveled back through time, they would not have been this noisy. They had to be mindful not to draw too many people to a club like this. After all, they were participating in illicit activities.

The danger of being caught was the fuel she needed to sing her heart out, to unleash the pent up emotions buried so deeply within herself that she often wondered whether they still existed at all. Tonight, however, she knew they did, and the crowd loved the results.

A knock at the door startled Julia awake from the dream still laced with the haunting sounds of trumpets and a teasing of strings on bass guitars. When her eyes opened, she swore she could still hear the piano playing in the background of Mike's Mirage. The familiar tune of Get Happy lingered on the cusp of her thoughts, beckoning her to return to the party. Julia realized she had fallen asleep in her rocker again and found herself back in her room at Lakeview Manor. She glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was 10:00. No one ever visited her room this late.

After Pete's surprise jazz show in the dining room, she, along with all the other residents, had been escorted back to their rooms for the night. The nurses usually went to all the rooms and assisted in getting them ready for bed. Julia often accepted their help, and then she would get up out of bed and return to her rocker, to either read or look at her photo albums. In this instance, she was still reeling from the nostalgia at watching Pete play, rekindling memories of Mike's Mirage and repairing fragmented ones.

"Come in," she said. A familiar figure entered the room dressed in a black pant suit. Her dark brown hair with specks of white had been pulled into a tight bun. She smiled coldly and started to speak, her voice sending chills up and down Julia's back and arms.

"Hello, Julia," Ms. Banning said. "Sorry for the late visit, but this was the only way I could get you alone."

Julia rubbed at her arms and pulled her hand-sewn shawl tighter, trying to make the goose flesh disappear.

"Is something wrong, dear?" she asked, curious as to why the owner of Lakewood Manor would be paying her a visit. Ms. Banning made a slight smile and closed the door behind her. She took a look around the room, then moved toward her burled walnut lady's desk and pulled out the leather-padded chair. Ms. Banning sat down across from Julia.

"Does the name John Markham Smith ring a bell?"

Julia thought about this for a moment. "The name is familiar, but I can't put a face to the name," she said truthfully. "My memory is not what it used to be, you know." She chuckled at this, but Ms. Banning remained emotionless. "Why?"

"I'm surprised you don't remember. After years of listening to numerous trips down memory lane, I'm a bit offended you didn't take the time to remember John." She looked down at her knee and rubbed an imaginary spot of dust away. Her posture remained rigid, and she kept her voice tone flat with no hint of warmth.

"I don't recall ever sitting down and sharing my stories with you."

She smiled. "Of course not, why would you? I bet even now you're already forgetting half of what I'm saying."

Julia was taken aback by her abrupt rudeness. "Ms. Banning, I'm going to have to ask you to leave my room. I don't appreciate your tone of voice, and frankly, it's too damn late in the evening for me to be putting up with it."

"Does the date January 29th, 1933, ring a bell?"

At the mention of the date, Julia grew still. She was unsure how the woman knew so much about a time period she wasn't even around for. Instantly she found herself transported back to the last time she spoke to Billy, just two days before she found him dead.

The club had been quiet on the morning of January 27th. Julia remembered a few patrons sitting at the bar, talking in hushed tones and gawking at her as she bent over to scoop up the dirt from the floor with a dust pan.

Rosie was busy cleaning their only bathroom, while Mike manned the bar. It was one of those rare occasions that he actually came in and helped out. Most of the time, he was out and left the day-to-day tasks of the bar in their hands. Julia and Rosie practically lived at the bar most days and took turns sleeping on a single mattress near the furnace. However, they'd managed to scrape up enough money to get them a small studio apartment a block away from the bar, which they rotated using on days when someone needed to be at the bar to help Billy with the shipments.

Julia had nearly completed most of her daily chores when she felt a presence behind her. She whipped around to find Billy standing there with a shipment of whiskey from Kansas City.

"Oh, Billy, you scared me," she said.

"I'm sorry, Jules," he said with a smile.

"What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you until tonight."

"This is a special shipment that Mr. Mike wanted brought in right away. He insisted on having it here before he set out for Kansas City, so I had to come all the way back to make sure he gets it."

"Oh, well, that's strange. He didn't mention anything about that to me."

"Mike wasn't at the bar, and so I didn't know where he wanted me to put this new shipment," he said. Julia was confused. She swore she saw Mike at the bar a few minutes ago.

"He was just there, Billy," she said, looking around behind him. The only people near the bar were the regulars, and they had suddenly watched their exchange with piqued interests. She knew what that look meant. They assumed Billy was bothering her. It had nothing to do with him being a strong, chiseled man, with a chest you could lay your head against. No, this was strictly about the color of his skin. She had to act fast before the men at the bar approached and caused a scene. Normally it didn't matter what your skin color was at a speakeasy. As long as you had money and you were willing to spend to your heart's content, Mike welcomed you with open arms. Unfortunately, not all people felt the same way, especially after they had a couple of drinks.

"What is it?" he asked, noticing the concern etched across her face. She placed a hand on his left shoulder so the men couldn't see.

"Mike wants those in the storage room," she said, loud enough for the men to hear. "Please, come with me, and I'll show you were they need to go." He nodded and followed behind her. She couldn't help but glance at his muscles bulging beneath his shirt. She pointed to the storage closet, cater-corner to the bar, and grabbed the keys from her pocket and unlocked it for him. She ushered him in and then quickly ran over to the restroom and got Rosie. She convinced her to entertain the guests for few minutes while she talked with Billy. Reluctant to go out there, Rosie agreed on the condition that Julia remain overnight for the next shipment in two days. Rosie alluded to the possibility that she might need to sneak away to take care of some business. Julia figured 'businesses' indirectly referred to a possible relationship between her and Mike Ward, but Rosie never admitted it.

Inside the storage room, Billy had already unloaded most of his shipment and was waiting for her. Once she was inside and the door closed shut behind her, he swept her off the ground in his massive arms and brought his lips down to meet hers. Despite his strength, he held her with the same delicacy as a pane of glass. She felt her face redden and her stomach flutter from their contact. He pulled away slowly and gazed deep into her cloudy blue eyes.

"I've missed you," he whispered. She put her hands on his face and kissed him again.

"We have to be careful during the day, hon. I didn't like the look of those guys at the bar. They would have tried to start a fight with you, under the false pretense that they were protecting my honor."

Billy laughed deeply. "They're scared of me, Jules. One look is all it would take." She loved his confidence but also felt that he was slightly naïve to think they wouldn't try other tactics.

"I can't stay in here long," she said, caressing his face and kissing his lips tenderly. "If Mike's back out there, he'll be wondering where I am." He sighed deeply.

"Then let's get out of here. Get a place out in the country away from all of this."

"Where would we go?" she asked. "No one would accept us — you know that." It pained her to see the look of disappointment on his face as she burst his bubble. "These are dangerous times, my love. It's bad enough we operate on the fear that at any moment the police will shut us down."

"I don't care,'" he hissed. Billy pulled away and rummaged in his overalls. He pulled out a little black box and placed it in her hands. She looked at it and then opened it, only to find the biggest surprise of her life. Inside was a ring, but not just any ring. She gasped as she gazed upon its size. A dark green emerald stone winked back at her under the low lighting of the storage room. It was flanked by two triangular emerald stones and surrounded by diamonds. She was speechless at its magnificence.

"Billy... it's beautiful." Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down the length of her cheek. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She closed her fingers around the ring and brought it up to her chest. She buried her face in his clothes, inhaling the scent of him. He caressed her back tenderly. She pulled away from the embrace and gazed into his eyes.

"How can you afford something like this?"

"Does it really matter?"

"It's just so gorgeous," she said, holding up the ring in front of them. The light reflected off the stones and made them sparkle like tiny stars. "'I don't know if I can —"

"You would do me a great honor, Ms. Stanford, if you accepted my proposal." He brought his fingers to her chin, prompting her attention back to him. She felt an overwhelming amount of joy and was practically bubbling over with giddiness. "Well?"

"Of course I accept, Billy Thompson," she said.

She looked up into his big brown eyes and he leaned down in for another kiss. They shared several more minutes of happiness before Mike started pounding on the door.

"I need more whiskey, Julia," he shouted, startling the both of them. She nearly dropped the ring.

"Okay, I'll be right out." She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. Billy kissed the top of her forehead.

"We can talk some more later on," Billy said. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"Of course! You know I'm always here. Rosie and I are staying here tonight and tomorrow. She mentioned something about possibly having to leave for an hour or two, depending on the crowd. She has to take care of some personal business, so it may just be me here when you return. Someone has to open the door and let the bootleggers in." She poked him in the side, making him smile.

"I'll bet Rosie has some personal business to attend to..." he started to continue, but broke off.

Julia looked up at him questioningly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head and tightened his lips. "Sorry, Jules, I can't say."

"We'll see about that." Julia pulled Billy in for one last kiss. It was deeper this time and she felt herself succumbing to the passion between them. She wanted him, despite what people thought. Another pounding at the door broke them apart. Julia shoved the ring in her pocket and walked over to a nearby crate filled with whiskey bottles and then hurried over to the door.

She glanced back at him. "When do you think you'll be back?"

"Two days. I'm hoping to be back here some time after midnight on the 29th. After I'm done unloading, I'll make sure to keep you company by the furnace," he said with a sly smile.

She giggled and shook her head playfully. "Be careful, Billy Thompson, I may not let you in." He laughed and watched her open the door with one hand carrying a crate with rattling glass bottles back out into the bar. She started shouting toward Mike's direction. "Sorry, Mike, I made a mess in the back room and Billy was helping me clean it up..."

Julia sighed. Had she known that would be the last night they were ever going to be together, she would have made Mike wait a little longer.

"Julia! Earth to Julia? Come back to us," a shrill voice said.

Julia blinked and realized she was back in the room with Ms. Banning again. Part of her wished she could delve back into the memory.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I must have gotten lost in my own thoughts. You were saying, dear?"

Her guest grunted out of irritation. "I asked you whether January 29th, 1933 meant anything."

"Yes, it means something to me. I found Billy dead outside Mike's Mirage around 3:00 AM that morning." Her wrinkled eyes welled up. She couldn't believe what this woman was putting her through. "After that whole ordeal, my feelings for the club changed. A new bootlegger took Billy's place, and soon he was pretty much forgotten. Those of us managing the bar helped Mike continue the party up until October 29th, even though my heart wasn't in it on most days. Every time I studied the ring or glanced over at Topeka High, Billy was all I could think about. He didn't deserve to die the way he did."

Ms. Banning stood up suddenly.

"Wrong, Julia," she hissed. "Justice was served that day. Billy had to pay for his sins."

Julia was outraged and tried to stand, her body shaking profusely. She extended her arm and pointed at Ms. Banning. "Speak easy, now, darling. Those events were way before your time. You have no idea what actually happened." Ms. Banning's right eyebrow raised, her curiosity now piqued at Julia's statement.

"And you do?" she asked. Julia stopped speaking for a moment and slowly worked her way back down into the seat. The strength it took to stand so abruptly took more out of her than she'd intended. She knew she had to be careful. Another fall could easily do more harm than good.

The fact that Ms. Banning was harassing her so late in the evening and completely out of the blue was infuriating. What did she know about Billy? Did she know about the Westfeld Heist Ronni mentioned several days ago? Where was Ms. Banning getting all her information? The more Julia reflected on this, the more it became apparent that her room being ransacked was an inside job.

"One hundred and eight years ... that's a long time to be on this earth," Ms. Banning said, "I would think after a hundred years, you'd start questioning God as to why He has forsaken you."

"You should count me lucky to live that long, Ms. Banning. I've seen many things in my lifetime and I'm thankful for that every day. So leave God out of this." Ms. Banning sneered at the lecture and dismissed her with a wave of the hand.

Julia rocked back and forth in the rocker, feeling her heart pounding a little faster. The blood was pumping through her old blue veins quicker than it had in the last three years. To Julia, it felt nice to be able to feel the intensity of emotions again. All too often, even before Ronni entered her life, she spent many days and nights confined to her room. She felt like a prisoner in her own home, waiting for someone to come and rescue her. It was something that she couldn't escape, and it only got progressively worse the older she became. Ms. Banning, despite her tenacity, had a point – but now wasn't the time for Julia to linger on such thoughts, not when her pride was at stake.

"So what exactly happened, Julia?" Ms. Banning asked. She circled the room, gazing down upon Julia's taste in furniture and knickknacks with a critical eye. "You seemed to know more than you're saying."

"First, tell me why you broke into my room and went through my personal items."

Her guest put a fist to her heart and sighed heavily, her mouth agape. The mockery was not making Julia any more inclined to tell her about anything. "Why would you assume I had something to do with it?" Ms. Banning asked.

"Despite what the authorities found or what the nurses say happened, clearly this was an inside job. I may be old, but I'm by no means a fool. Despite what young people may think."

Ms. Banning laughed. "Oh, Julia, I haven't been called young in years." She grew serious. "Unfortunately, flattery will get you nowhere with me. It certainly didn't work with Nurse Lydia. Oops!"

Julia gasped. "Get out, murderer!" Her heart thumped loudly, and she started to feel a shortness of breath.

"I'm sorry, Julia," she said. "I'm not finished with you yet."

"Well, I'm done! I'm calling Deborah, and I'm going to tell her to find me a new place to live."

Ms. Banning approached Julia without wavering. She encircled the rocking chair and placed an icy-cold hand upon her shoulder. Julia cringed at the contact.

"This conversation is far from over, Julia. In fact, I agree with you about a change in scenery. I think that's exactly what we need. This room has become a little stuffy, anyway."

Julia felt a slight sting in her neck and caught a glimpse of a syringe. The room started to blur, and she felt her eyes getting heavy. The last thing she saw before slumping over unconscious was Nurse Paula opening the door and bringing in a wheel chair.

The assignment was simple. Get close to Charles Christopher, Administrative Law student and supposed head of the underground cheating ring. Simple enough – or so Ronni thought.

Ronni's first impression of Charles was that he couldn't be smart enough to organize something so complex, despite being prone to narcissism. She found evidence of his cheating, kept tabs on his activities, and made notes. She kept in contact with the boss and thought this was an open and shut case. She even joked that she would have Charles confessing to the crime within two weeks after being assigned.

Unfortunately, two weeks quickly became two months and soon she found herself weaving lie upon lie to keep her undercover position a secret. She was not prepared for the layers of crap that would accompany this case.

It started shortly after a week of meeting Charles and establishing herself as Veronica Long, Cultural Anthropology major extraordinaire — student by day and bartender by night. She didn't bother focusing on a lot of the specifics because she was confident in her abilities to solve the case. When she realized it was going to take Charles longer to warm up to her, she was forced to reexamine her motives. She placed a call one evening to her boss, Chief Richard.

"Has he confessed yet?" he asked. The tone of his voice sounded almost giddy to her.

"Not yet," she said, with reluctance.

"Really?"

"He's close, though, I can feel it." '

Richard wasn't buying it. Ronni could sense the disappointment in the sound of his voice. "What's taking so long?" he asked. "I thought you said you could handle the case."

"Chief, I can do this. It's just that he's... " She had to make up something. The truth was, she was nowhere close to solving the case as she thought she would be.

"Well?" he demanded.

"I need to delve deeper into the life of Veronica Long. He's suspicious of me not attending classes. My roommate, Donna, keeps feeding him information about me. So he's interested, but not enough." The fib sounded good to her and had some truth in it.

"Do we need to step in?"

"No," she hissed. "Donna's not the problem. My disguise isn't good enough. I need more."

"Dammit, Long, why didn't you just say that in the first place? I'll see what I can do. In the mean time, keep working on Charles."

"Yes, sir," she said, hanging up shortly after.

It wasn't too long after that she became more involved in her studies, burying herself in the role of student and drawing less suspicion from those around her. She got so into it, there was a brief moment where she actually started believing she was a Cultural Anthropology major. Before long, she was starting her thesis project and got lost in the thrill of it, nearly forgetting her main objective. That is, until she met Julia Stanford. Now it seemed her boyfriend had taken an interest in her primary source, especially at the mention of jewels. She eventually put two and two together and realized that Julia was connected to history in more ways than one.

The Westfeld Heist was an unsolved case she studied years ago out of one of her text books at the Academy. She hadn't paid too much attention to it, which she regretted now, because she never dreamed would come back to bite her in the butt.

All of a sudden, it became clear to Ronni what was happening. She had become too involved in unraveling the mystery that she completely lost sight of her main objective. In turn, the eighty-year-old case went far deeper than she could have ever imagined – and the cheating ring, kidnappers, and Westfeld Heist were all connected. Perhaps, the true villain was someone she completely underestimated.

Ronni watched Charles very closely. He was awaiting her reaction to his proposal. She knew her cover had been blown the moment he uttered the phrase "Will you marry me?" It was a set up. The events of the past several days had put her through the wringer, and he knew it.

"How long have you known?" she asked. Her eyes did a quick scan of the room, observing the amount of people in the restaurant, searching for exits, and keeping an eye out for any lackeys he may have stashed in the restaurant posing as harmless patrons.

"Since you began making idiotic mistakes left and right."

"Well, you can't blame a girl for trying."

Charles gave a big smile. "Enjoying all the fun, yet?"

"You've been planning this for some time, haven't you?"

"You have no idea."

The waiter appeared and brought two long-stemmed glasses and an expensive bottle of red wine. He set them on the table and asked if they wanted to order. Ronni declined, but Charles insisted. His eyes grew dark when she didn't cooperate. He briefly opened his suit jacket so she could see the small 9mm in its holster. She quickly ordered something so that the waiter would leave. When he left, she leaned in across from Charles and started speaking.

"There are too many innocent people in here," she whispered. "Don't be a fool."

"I didn't want you to be rude. I obviously wanted you to be here for a reason, and it's only natural you accept my gracious hospitality."

"It's a little hard to be gracious to someone who kidnapped my mother."

Charles fidgeted with his plate and silverware in front of him. "Yet you managed to get her out safely," he said.

"Another part of your little scheme, I assume?"

"Of course, just like I planted that phone in your cupboard, so you would think your roommate was involved, too."

"I knew it was suspicious the moment I found it."

"I'm sure," he said with a smile. "It's funny how you've been running around playing undercover cop these past few months, and you're no closer to solving the case than you were when you first started."

Ronni was peeved. She glanced over at the butter knife and then up at Charles. He shook his head.

"So you have the advantage. What is it that you want?" she asked.

"Did you read the journal?"

"The one you so cleverly stashed in the basement?" He nodded. "No."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Of course I read it. I get it. You want the jewels."

"But do you know the connection?"

"Yes. The author is your ancestor, you want revenge for stolen merchandise, and Julia is the key to getting the jewels back."

"If only it were that simple."

The waiter appeared with their food and then left. Charles dug hungrily into his meal like a lion on a zebra's hide. Ronni felt nauseous, and the idea of eating was not on the top of her list. She thought about her mother and how she had hoped she was all right. Her uncle would take care of her, which wasn't an issue. Ronni's concern was whether Charles would attempt to use them as collateral again.

Charles watched her like a hawk, insisting that she eat. She took a couple of bites, and her stomach churned. She was tired of this game and wanted to end it. The only problem was — how? When both of them finished their meals, Charles requested the check.

"So what happens now?"

"You're going to call your contact and have them drop off the jewels to you, and then we're going on a little field trip."

"And where are we going?"

"Back to where it all started."

She swallowed hard. There was no doubt he meant Mike's Mirage. "If I don't cooperate, what happens? You can't use my mother against me again. She's safe."

Charles finished paying the bill and stood up. He walked over to Ronni and extended a hand, helping her up out of her seat. He bent close to her ear until his lips grazed her skin. To Ronni, his touch felt like snake skin and made her own skin crawl.

"We have Julia. Her life is now in your hands."

CHAPTER 16 by B. R. Knight

"Nothing to say, Veronica dear?" asked Charles with a sneer. "I believe your line should be something like 'you'll never get away with this.' At least that's what the damsel in distress always says in those cheesy movies you love so much."

"Why be redundant, Charles dear?" Ronni frowned out the window, watching the scenery pass by all too quickly. Her mind raced through scenario after scenario, but none of them ended the way she wanted.

"Who would expect such big words from my bimbo girlfriend? When you blow your cover, you really do it with flair."

Ronni considered telling Charles what she really thought of him, but decided it just wasn't worth the effort. She went back to contemplating escape plans. Unfortunately it wasn't just her own safety she had to worry about. She had to take Julia's well-being into consideration as well.

"I couldn't believe my luck when I bumped into you that day in the library. You were the perfect accessory to my own cover story. You were so blonde and cheap in your tight clothes and short skirts. You provided me just the right amount of believability as a privileged student with a decided air of narcissism. And you were the unsuspecting roommate of my target. I couldn't have done better if I'd planned it myself. Of course, when I figured out your true game I almost laughed my ass off."

Ronni's heart beat raced a little more as what Charles' words meant hit home. "Wait, your cover story?"

Charles chuckled and hit the turn signal before making a left onto Huntoon. She knew she was running out of time and he was in no hurry to give up toying with her.

"I know you've discovered that I've already passed the bar. My handler informed me when the records were accessed."

"Handler?" Ronni asked. Now she was even more confused.

"Under other circumstances we could have worked this case together and blown it out of the water. An undercover lawyer and policewoman investigating the nefarious cheating ring at one of the state's most prestigious law schools. It could have been legendary. Then you stumbled onto the key to the state's greatest unsolved jewelry heist and threatened to expose everything about my past I've worked so hard to erase."

Ronni mulled over Charles' words. He had been investigating the cheating ring, too? And his target had been her roommate? He thought Donna was involved in the cheating ring?

"Donna?" she blurted. "Donna is the head of the cheating ring?"

"Took you long enough to put that together. I can't believe your superiors thought you could handle this job. You've been so focused on me as your target you didn't even bother to look for other possibilities. Once I figured out your strategy it was easy to string you along. It kept you from interfering with my own investigation."

Charles eased to a stop at a light and glanced over at his passenger. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell, tossing it into Ronni's lap. "Time to call your contact and get me those jewels."

Ronni fingered the sleek cell. She wished she could use her own phone, but Charles had taken her purse when he hustled her into the car. It was now in the trunk and out of reach. She slid her finger over the screen to unlock it and punched in her uncle's number. She hesitated before pressing send, but when Charles patted the 9 mm he wore under his jacket, she jabbed her finger against the button and held the phone to her ear.

"Speaker, if you please," Charles said with a grin. "I wouldn't want to miss this."

Ronni sighed and thumbed the speaker button. The car filled with the sound of her uncle's phone ringing on the other end of the line. For a moment she wondered if he would even answer. There was no way he would know it was her calling and he wouldn't recognize the number. After what seemed like an eternity he picked up.

"Yes?" His voice was brusque.

"It's me. Meet me at the Holliday Café on 12th. Bring the item I gave you for safekeeping."

She could hear a whispered conversation in the background and thought she recognized Pete's voice as well as her mother's. She couldn't hear what was being said. Then her uncle's voice flowed from the phone's speaker.

"Are you all right?"

She took a deep breath and glanced at Charles out of the corner of her eye. This was the tricky part. "Everything but my pride, Uncle Edgar. See you in a few minutes."

She hit the end button and tossed the phone back into Charles' lap. "He'll meet us at the café. You've won."

Charles' smile grew wider. "You have no idea how much this means to my family. I cannot believe how lucky I was to pick you."

Ronni leaned back against the leather seat and let her eyes close. She was just beginning to realize how tiring her mission was and how the pressure had slowly been building up. She would be glad when it was over for better or worse. She felt the car roll to a stop and almost groaned when Charles shut the engine off.

"Let's go see Mother. She deserves to be there in the end as well."

"What took you so long?" Charles' mother asked. "You called nearly two hours ago."

"Relax, Mother. It took time to get things arranged. The jewels are on their way. We'll be able to close this chapter of the family drama once and for all. After we take care of a few loose ends, that is."

Ronni used the pairs' distraction to study her surroundings. She had half expected Charles to take her into the café proper, and was surprised when he simply nodded to the hostess and hustled her up a staircase tucked behind the bathrooms. His mother was waiting for them in one of three converted apartments above the bustling eatery. She wondered how many people knew they were even there. The front room was small but neat with a love seat and overstuffed reading chair arranged around a low, cherry wood coffee table where a silver tea set held court. A short breakfast bar separated the living area from the small but efficient kitchen. Two doors on the right led to what she assumed were a bedroom and a bathroom. Julia was most likely hidden behind one of those doors.

Ms. Banning caught her glance and gave her a thin-lipped smile. "Yes, my dear, your friend is tied up in the other room. Don't worry; you'll be seeing her quite soon."

"I want to see her now if you don't mind." Ronni squared her shoulders and met the other woman's gaze straight on.

"Fine. Charles, why don't you give our guest the full tour?"

Ronni followed on Charles' heels as he headed to the second door on the right and shoved it open. Inside the small bedroom was a full-sized four poster bed with a matching dresser. Squeezed in between the two large pieces of furniture was a wooden straight-backed kitchen chair. Julia was tied to the chair with her arms stretched behind her and her in what had to be an uncomfortable position for the elderly woman. She smiled when she saw Ronni.

"I knew you'd come for me. I told them," she said in a cheery tone. "Are we leaving now?"

"Not just yet," Ronni said as she hurried to Julia's side and checked the tightness of the rope binding her to the chair. To Charles' she snapped, "Is this necessary? She's 108 years old. You don't seriously expect her to escape, do you?"

"We're not taking any chances. Untie her if you like, but know I won't hesitate to shoot her if you become troublesome. I'm not going to screw this up like my grandfather did. If he'd taken care of things like he should have, none of this would be necessary."

"You talk too much, Charles."

"Why does it matter? They're not going to be telling anyone. Once we have the goods, we'll tie up these loose ends. Something both of your parents failed to do."

"Shut up, Charles. You don't have to spill your guts like some clichéd TV villain."

Ms. Banning stepped into the bedroom, a small, snub-nosed handgun pointed at Julia. Ronni stepped between the elderly woman and Charles' mother. "If you shoot her, you won't get the jewels. I will make sure of that."

"She right, Mother. Until we have the goods in our hands, you need to be more patient. I'll handle it."

"Like you handled the problem in the closet?" the other woman asked with a frown.

Charles' laugh filled the room. "No longer a problem now, is he?"

He crossed to a door near the foot of the bed and yanked it open. Ronni gasped. It was Tyler from Pete's jazz band. He was slumped on the floor of the closet, his ridiculous hat against his chest where it barely covered a blood stain that soaked his entire shirt. She couldn't tell if he was breathing, but from the pallor of his skin she doubted it.

"A friend of yours, perhaps?" asked Charles. "His badge says KBI."

"What? He's just a jazz musician," Ronni mumbled.

"By night perhaps, but by day he's a G-man," said Charles and shut the door. "You really aren't all that observant, are you? How you made it undercover is beyond me."

"Don't underestimate her. I learned quite a bit about your dear Veronica while caring for her mother. The woman talked incessantly. The pills were supposed to keep her comatose, but she simply would not shut up. And she was full of interesting information."

Ms. Banning crossed to sit on the foot of the four-poster, the revolver resting against her knee. "Her real target wasn't the head of the cheating ring. That was just something her boss tossed in on the side. She was really looking for the group bilking the elderly out of their life savings. It seems poor Granny fell victim to this nefarious scheme and ended up in a sub-par care facility where she died from neglect. Veronica here, it seems, was hell-bent on putting a stop to it, but in order to get the okay from her boss, she had to take on the cheating ring at KU first. Too bad you'll never get the opportunity to take those awful con artists down."

Charles and his mother were both smirking, and Ronni felt a sinking sensation in her chest. Anger flared as her heart raced.

"You're the con artists," she said in a tight voice.

"Yes, we had to have some way to survive after my grandparents botched a simple jewel heist. It should have been so simple. Then one of the thugs they hired to help them got cold feet. He hid the jewels and wouldn't tell them where they were. He died rather than give them up, the fool."

"Your grandparents were Rosie and John Markham Smith. That means Julia is your great-aunt. You would kill your own family?" Ronni was horrified.

Ms. Banning sniffed and waved the gun in the air. "Sometimes things happen. People die so others can live a better life. Those jewels will make up for a great deal of hardship. My poor Charles was forced to change his name just so he could get into law school and pass the bar. No one would give the grandson of John Markham Smith, notorious gangster, a chance. It's time Charles gets what he deserves. And you, my dear, are about to make it happen."

Charles glanced at his watch. "We should get downstairs and wait for the delivery. Veronica is well aware of what will happen to her friend here if she doesn't cooperate. Let's go."

He gestured for her to precede him out of the bedroom. Ronni had only reached the edge of the sofa when the apartment door flew open. She stumbled to a stop and Charles grabbed her upper arm in a tight grip she was sure would leave a bruise. She knew he was reaching for his gun. To her horror her uncle, followed by Pete, crowded through the door, followed by Deborah, holding a gun. Both men caught her expression and gave her sheepish shrugs.

"What have we here, sister dear?" asked Charles.

Deborah tossed the green crocodile case onto the coffee table. "It seems your bimbo had backup. They weren't very subtle when they arrived. It was a simple thing to get the drop on them."

"Oh, Pete," Ronni said. "I'm so sorry you got caught up in this."

"Don't worry. You'll have a little bit of time to get caught up. Why don't the three of you join the old lady in the bedroom?" Charles suggested.

Ms. Banning's gaze was locked on the case on the coffee table. "The jewels?" she asked.

Deborah shrugged. "I presume so. I didn't take the time to check."

Charles' mother scurried over to the table and opened the case, dumping everything out onto the cherry wood finish. She pried the false bottom open and dumped out the rest of the loot with a squeal of glee. Ronni only caught a quick flash of the cache as she was hustled into the bedroom by Charles. Her uncle and Pete were right behind her. Charles waved jauntily and closed the door. They could hear a lock being engaged.

"How on earth did you let her get the drop on you?" Ronni asked, whirling on her uncle. "I used the code. You should have known to be careful."

"How do you know we let her get the drop on us?" asked Pete from near the window.

There were wrought iron bars covering it, so it would not make for an easy escape. Besides, they would have little chance of getting Julia down the fire escape quickly enough to make a clean getaway.

"You meant to get caught?" Ronni gasped.

Pete turned back around, studying the room. "Where have they got Tyler stashed?"

Ronni's mind whirred so fast she wondered if there was smoke coming out of her ears. "Tyler? You know he's KBI?"

"Of course," Pete said. "So's Ernest. They're partners. He's downstairs listening in right now."

Ronni pivoted to stare at her uncle who was busy cutting the ropes binding Julia's hands. "Did you know about this?"

"I may have my finger in a few pies still."

Ronni nodded toward the closet door. "Tyler's in there. I think he's dead."

Pete raced to the closet, flung open the door and knelt down to check Tyler's neck for a pulse. He rocked back on his heels. "He's still alive. Barely. He's going to need medical attention as soon as possible."

It took Ronni a second to realize he wasn't talking to any of them. She hurried to his side and pulled his shirt up to reveal a wire.

"Are you insane? If they find this they'll shoot all of us."

"This is so exciting," Julia exclaimed. "It reminds me of the night after I found Billy. There was a raid."

Julia closed her eyes, picturing that night in her mind's eye.

"It was one of those frantic nights, and Mike's Mirage was packed. Everyone was trying desperately to forget their reality. There was music and drink. I was on stage singing. Right before I went on I noticed Rosie, Hal, and a young man I think Rosie was seeing arguing near the front door. I overheard Hal tell them they were welcome to the prize if they could find it. He was finished with the whole deal.

"The other man grabbed Hal by the lapels and told him he would regret his decision if he lived long enough. I didn't have time to eavesdrop any further. I had to take the stage. I was in the middle of my third song when the police burst in and loaded everyone they could catch into their paddy wagons. Hal made it to me in the chaos and hustled me out the back door. We hid in an all night diner drinking watered-down coffee until dawn. I wish I knew whatever happened to old Hal. He was a good man, that one."

Pete moved closer to Julia and knelt down, patting her knee. "I'll tell you about him after we get out of here, Ms. Julia. My grandfather turned out to be a pretty decent fellow."

Julia clapped her hands against Pete's cheeks, her lips stretched into a wide smile. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere, young man."

"This is all well and good, ma'am," said Ronni's uncle. "I think we should start working on our escape plan now."

The bedroom door slammed open, banging against the wall with a hollow thud. Charles stood in the doorway, his eyes blazing. He clutched two handfuls of jewelry from Julia's crocodile case.

"Where are the real jewels?" he bellowed.

Behind him his mother and sister appeared, expression grim and guns clutched tightly in their hands.

CHAPTER 17 by Sarah Langley

"Ten seconds and she's dead." Ms. Banning settled her gun on Julia.

"The real jewels?" Pete said.

Ronni's clutch on reality was waning, and it took her a second to realize Pete wasn't really parroting in disbelief – he was sending a code to Ernest.

"No, we wanted fake ones all this time," Ms. Banning snapped. "Now where are they?"

Ronni's thoughts were tense and fast. What had she been trained to do in this situation? She squeezed her hands together until they hurt. Nothing. She couldn't think of anything except that she'd been fooled, and now they were all going to die. And there was nothing she could do about it.

No one spoke.

"Ten... nine... eight..." Charles started counting.

Man, he was annoying – narcissist law student or not. Ronni was about to shut him up when she gasped as Ernest filled the doorway, not a second before he let loose with his gun.

Ronni didn't need an invitation. She was off her feet and running the second Ms. Banning hit the floor. Running toward Charles, Ronni heard muted screaming – too much adrenaline pumping blood to her ears. Adrenaline shoved her foot into the crook of Charles' knee. He was down, an easy target for her heel to bolt down his back. Ronni seized his hair and fisted his head into the cheap carpet. She felt good.

Ronni remembered to gasp air and tried to focus her eyes. Uncle Dallas had disarmed Deborah and was grappling with her. "Get Tyler, get Tyler!" Ronni could hear Ernest yelling, but the words weren't registering in her brain.

WHAM. Ronni was on the carpet, head hitting first. Her air out so fast her insides felt like a fire pit. Charles still had his hand clenched around her ankle where he'd wrenched her down.

She could see him rising, coming toward her as she lay prone. Her fingernails dug into the carpet as she braced herself to kick. Charles dodged, and her foot glanced off his chest. He lunged and slammed his hands into her chest. Any air left was gone for good. Ronni's legs pedaled the air, nowhere near hitting Charles. He had her wrists now, and he was pinning her arms to the ground. Charles' head crashed down into her skull. Pain reverberated like a gun shot, and for a moment all she could focus on was Charles's spittle bubbling around his teeth in what resembled a death grimace.

Charles reared back to head-butt her again. Instinct jammed her knee into his stomach. She scrabbled her hands to loosen his grip, still honking air back into her lungs. Gravity was on Charles' side, and she flagged back down to the carpet. Desperation took over as her head lunged to bite Charles's hands. Out of reach.

Then she saw it. Like slow motion. Charles released his grip from her arm. The stalled blood surged back. His hand was going for his gun. Ronni knew it. But suddenly she wasn't scared. There was the opening she needed. Her knee chambered up. Charles's arm came forward. Ronni thrust her leg to drive her heel into his throat. It felt like crushing a honeycomb.

That was all she needed. She was up in a second. Her eyes were sharp, wits tense with eagerness. It only took her a second to assess the scene. Pete was pulling Tyler from the closet, draping him over his back. Ernest had grabbed Deborah and was fighting to haul her out prisoner. Uncle Dallas was rising to his feet, knees cracking. He held the gun out, and Ronni could see his eyes keen on their opponents. He backed towards the door, barking orders.

"Ronni, grab Julia. Pete, get behind me. Let's go, we're out."

Ronni whirled to Julia, but she was already up.

"Wait," Julia said, crossing to the opposite side of the room.

What was she doing? Ronni felt her blood crawling through her legs in impatience. Julia reached for the jewelry box just before Ronni yanked her away. Julia gasped in pain at her roughness, but Ronni didn't care. Their lives were on the line, and all Julia cared about was the jewelry box?

The fight was over, but none of them had the adrenaline kicked out of their systems yet. Feet were fast down the stairs.

"Let's move, let's move!" Ernest ordered. "Out the door, to the left, into the van!"

"There's a safehouse about ten minutes from here," Ernest said once they were all in the van. "But first we're getting Tyler to the emergency room."

It felt like hours before they arrived at the house, although it couldn't have taken more than an hour. But that had been plenty of time for Ronni to stew over her situation. She was angry with everyone who had deceived her and at herself for not seeing any of it coming, for not being in control, for being the biggest loser she had ever met.

Pete led Ronni and Julia into one of the house's bedrooms. "Just get some rest," he told Ronni.

"I don't need any rest," Ronni snapped.

Pete took Ronni by the arm. "Just relax. If you need anything, I'll be in the other room."

"And I don't need you either," Ronni said. "Apparently that's not how it went. You were the one that needed me. Needed me just so I would fit into your little agenda of helping Miss Jewel Hoarder over here." Ronni's face was hot. "All your gentlemanliness, all your Mr. Suave Let-Me-Help-You stuff. Well you know what? I don't need your help. I don't need help from someone who's just out to deceive me. Who uses my emotions to get what they want. You go ahead – do what you want. But leave me out of it." Ronni felt as if she was about to cry, but she was too angry.

"Ronni ..." Pete started.

Ronni didn't even want to hear it. No more of his smooth talk. "Pete, just go. Leave me alone."

To her relief, Pete turned around and left. Ronni put her hands to her face, trying to decide if now was the time to cry or not.

"He's not all that bad, Ronni," Julia said quietly behind her.

"Oh, and you would know?" Ronni whipped around, any sadness suddenly replaced with anger again. "You haven't been so honest with me either, have you? I don't recall you being the one to tell me the whole story from the start."

Julia said nothing. Ronni could hear Ernest and Deborah yelling in the makeshift interrogation room somewhere in the house. Ronni bet she could say a few things that would make her talk.

"And what about those jewels? You know who you are? You're a thief, that's who!" Ronni was spitting words fast. "Yes, you and Billy – both thieves. All along you've tried to get me to believe Billy was some sort of good guy, and that you were the innocent little lover."

Julia lowered her head.

"Oh yeah, you expect me to believe you just found them in Billy's truck? You really expect me to believe you didn't have anything more to do with it than that? Well, I don't!" Ronni was yelling now. "You've been the one to keep the jewels all the time – you never turned them in. You wanted them. You kept them. You told lies about them. For all I know, you could have even been the one to kill Billy!"

Julia's mouth snapped open, and Ronni heard a noise of pain she'd never heard a human make. "It was me," Julia whispered.

Ronni swallowed. "You?" She hadn't really meant that accusation.

"Oh Ronni," Julia said, crying, "I killed him – I was the one who killed Billy."

Ronni knew enough to keep her mouth shut and let Julia keep talking. But it took several moments for the words to come out.

"Hand me the jewelry box," Julia whispered.

Ronni was fast.

"Now your keys," Julia said.

Ronni watched as Julia turned the jewelry box to its backside. She fingered the hinges, and Ronni noticed a very large screw. Slowly, Julia turned the screw with the key, her shaky hands constantly slipping the key off the screw head. Ronni restrained herself from grabbing the jewelry box and doing it for herself.

Finally, the screw slid out. Holding it in one hand, Julia used her nails to pop off the head of the screw.

Ronni gasped. The inside was hollow, and she saw a closely curled paper inside. After some working, Julia had pulled out the paper and unfurled it. The paper was small, but Ronni couldn't believe it had fit inside the screw.

"Read it," Julia said.

Ronni found her own hands were shaking more than Julia's as she grasped the paper. It was old, creased, and torn, and somehow Ronni knew it was from Billy. His handwriting was poor, the spelling bad. Ronni was surprised he knew how to write at all.

Sweethart,

I knew you'd find this. I knew it because you love me, because you're the only person that knows all my secrits. And now I have one last secrit to share with you, because I want you to know the truth. Sure as what you said, Rosie fell like an egg from a tall chicken for that plan to rob the Senator of his jewls. Hal did too. They needed just one more, and that one was me, and I was in. Only, you know I wasn't in for none of the same reasons they was – I was in to do what the love of my life asked me to do, protect Rosie and the moral upbringing in all of us. Now I'm supposed to send these jewls to Rosie once she gits to France. So far, they don't know I'm planning on returning the jewls to whose they belong, leaving your Rosie out of the trouble for good. But if you're reading this, then you know I'm dead, and the jewls are now in your hands. If I could wish, I'd ask you to keep them for yourself. But you know the right thing to do with the jewls. Just don't let yourself git in any danger because of it. That's all I care about. And I'll keep on caring about you long after I'm gone.

Love, Billy

Ronni was speechless. She'd been wrong. Again.

She moved her thumb so she could keep reading. Billy had written something near where it had been torn.

P.S. There's one other thing. You need to know this, otherwise you will never -

"What?" Ronni cried. The tear in the paper cut directly through the rest of Billy's sentence. "What was the rest of it?"

Julia pounded her fists down on her knees. "I wish I knew! It's been driving me batty since the time I found it!"

Ronni sat, fidgeting in thought.

"If I hadn't gotten him into it, he would have never gotten killed," Julia said.

So she hadn't actually pulled the trigger on Billy. That was good news. "Just tell me what happened," Ronni said, taking Julia's hand in an attempt to squeeze strength into it.

Julia snagged a couple of breaths and wiped her nose. "Listen, honey, Rosie'd got herself into some sort of trouble, and I knew it." Julia sighed. "But I loved her. After all, she was my sister, and whether we knew it or not, there was something between us stronger than friendship. So I did what any concerned sister would have done – I tried to get her out of it.

"I shared everything with Billy back then, somehow managing to put it in the little time we had together. When I told Billy about Rosie acting suspicious, I suddenly had the plan to ask him to help get her out of it. Back then I thought Billy was invincible – with the bootleggings and all, he'd outsmarted the police and everyone else hundreds of times." Suddenly Julia started to cry again. "Until me."

"It wasn't you," Ronni said, but she knew her words were useless against the deep root of guilt. "Tell me the story. You'll see; it wasn't you." As much as she wanted to comfort Julia, Ronni just wanted to hear the whole story once and for all.

"I knew Rosie was loose with the men, especially the powerful or the rich. So of course, the Senator was on her list. But that wasn't the worst of my worries. I overheard a conversation that now I wish I'd never heard." Julia's nails dug into Ronni's hand. "Some girl came in – maybe a prostitute, definitely a jilted lover. She went and got herself drunk, tried to drown out the bitterness of betrayal, I guess. And then she started talking. She was one of the Senator's good-time girls – until the next one came along. The girl probably didn't even know Rosie was one of them." Julia shook her head. "That was the irony of it. Anyway, this girl wanted revenge, and she wanted it bad. How easy it would be to get to him, she said, how fun it would be to see him hurt. Soon she got Hal into it, and I knew Rosie was onboard too. And Rosie could do it – she was in the Senator's house frequently enough.

"At the time, I didn't know what exactly it was that they were planning to do – I never expected such a grand crime as a jewel heist. I found that out in Billy's letter." She sighed once again.

Ronni shook her head. This was a lot of information in one day. "But why did you keep the jewels?"

Julia took a few moments to answer. "At first it was because of Rosie. I just didn't want to see her hurt. And – and I was afraid for myself too." Julia turned her eyes away. "Who knows who would believe me – or Billy. I couldn't let his name get dragged through the mud. And after he'd been killed over them, I guess – well, I guess I just couldn't give them up. It was his last gift to me, the last thing I had to remember him by." She paused, then spoke up again. Her voice was quivering. "So maybe I was the real thief after all. Maybe what I did was wrong. I don't know. But I paid for it." Her words turned bitter. "Billy's dead, and it's all my fault."

"No – no. It wasn't your fault." Ronni said, but her mind wasn't with her words. It was one of those moments in life where the events, the meaning, and the purpose all came together into a message meant only for her.

CHAPTER 18 by Holly Mace

Ronni sat quietly in a chair in the bedroom at the safe house. Her mind was racing. All these years, Julia had been carrying the weight of the world on her now-frail shoulders, blaming herself for Billy the Bootlegger's death. Ronni empathized with the burden Julia was carrying, After all, somewhere in Topeka her mother was recovering from being drugged by Charles and his crazy mother. If anyone understood the guilt of harm coming to people you love, it was Ronni.

Ronni looked over at Julia. She seemed to be re-reading the letter from Billy, even though Ronni was sure Julia knew it by heart. How much had she understood during the confrontation between Ronni, Charles and Ms. Banning? If Rosie and John Markham Smith did kill Billy, how could they let Julia carry the blame all these years?

Ronni could hear the angry rise and fall of voices as Ernest continued to interrogate Deborah elsewhere in the safe house. Deborah. Ronni thought back to the day she met Deborah at Lakeview Manor. She said that Julia filled in as her grandmother when her real grandmother, Julia's best friend, passed away. Did that mean that, despite everything that happened with the jewel heist and Billy's death, Rosie continued on through the rest of her living years as Julia's close sister and best friend? Did Julia really have no idea what happened? Did no one in Charles' family really have any idea that Julia had the jewels until Ronni mentioned it?

"Julia ..." Ronni turned, poised to ask Julia the questions that were plaguing her, but she was greeted by the sight of Julia sound asleep in her chair, the letter still firmly grasped in her right hand.

The room was a bit chilly. Ronni pulled a blanket off the foot of the bed and wrapped it around Julia's thin shoulders. She let her hand rest on Julia's back a moment. Ronni surmised that Billy was so in love with Julia that he would have done anything for her, including whatever it took to get Rosie out of trouble. If Julia had any idea of the danger Billy would have been in, would she still have asked that of him?

The question brought Ronni's thoughts racing back to the current situation. How did things get so out of hand? Blowing her cover was a rookie mistake – where did she go wrong? What could she have done to prevent so many people she cared about from being right in the path of danger? She said a quick prayer that her mom was safe and recuperating. She needed to find Uncle Dallas somewhere in this house and ask him who was caring for her mom. And Uncle Dallas—he wasn't as young as he used to be. Even though he loved this kind of danger, was it taking its toll on him? Then there was Donna. What information did Charles have to prove that Donna was leading the cheating ring? What was he planning to do with that information? And Pete—well, Ronni wasn't ready to deal with him yet.

"Ronni?" The soft rapping at the door interrupted her thoughts. Pete.

Ronni opened the door and hated how, despite her determination to be angry with Pete and suspicious of his motives, her stomach fluttered at the sight of his concerned face and the melodic way he said her name.

"I thought I told you to go away, Pete. Besides, Julia's sleeping. She needs to get some rest."

"Can you come down the hall with me then? Please, Ronni? I really owe you an explanation."

"I'm not leaving Julia alone in a strange house, especially with everything that's happened today, and still could happen. What if she were to wake up and no one was around? No, Pete, if you insist on talking to me, you can do it here — just quietly." Ronni glanced over at Julia, who hadn't stirred, and then turned back to Pete, her arms crossed, daring him to speak.

"Ronni, I ..."

"Hal is your GRANDFATHER?" Ronni interrupted. "It's not until we're in immediate danger that you decide to share that piece of information? So what was the plan, Pete? What was your angle? Everyone seems to have one different from what I suspected. What's yours?"

Pete ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Ronni thought he almost looked a little scared to speak. She noticed she was standing with her fists clenched as though ready for a fight. She let herself relax and sat down so that Pete would start talking.

"I didn't have an angle — at first," Pete began. "Up until the day you needed a ride to Topeka, I just knew you as my sister's roommate who seemed to be pretending to be something she wasn't, but I couldn't put my finger on the what or why. Then you called Donna that day needing a ride and my involvement just started out as a random act of chivalry. I couldn't believe my ears, though, when you mentioned you were going to meet this 108-year-old woman named Julia and why. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but I hoped that this short journey of ours would help me find some long-awaited answers to events in my own family history."

"So you knew who Julia was?" Ronni asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"No, I didn't know Julia. Not personally. I knew of a Julia in my family's past, but the odds of it being the same Julia seemed too great..."

"Go on," pressed Ronni.

"My grandfather's name is Hal O'Neill," said Pete.

Ronni needed to hear the verification she already knew, "Hal the bouncer?"

Pete nodded. "I believe so. My grandfather has always been a gruff man — loving but gruff. He's never been very open about his past, never liked talking about himself. So imagine his dismay when his only grandson majors in library science and takes a keen interest in the era when he grew up."

Ronni smiled. Pete took that as encouragement to keep talking. "I knew he worked in Topeka during the Prohibition. He always told me that he made deliveries. He always loved to hear me play, so I'd visit him often and take my horn. One time he was so caught up in the music that he said it reminded him of a song Julia would perform at the tavern. I stopped and asked him who Julia was and what tavern. All he would say was that it was at a dangerous time, and he couldn't discuss it. He said everyone was better off not knowing ..."

Pete trailed off. Ronni leaned forward, needing to know more. "Better off not knowing what?"

"I didn't know or even have any logical guesses until I met Julia and started helping you," Pete said. "Then she mentioned Mike's Mirage and a bouncer named Hal, and all the pieces started coming together. I still didn't want to get my hopes up, or hers, so I stayed quiet."

"This 'innocent bystander' story is great and all, but you're telling me you knew nothing of his involvement in a jewel heist or burying his dead friend?" Ronni demanded, arms crossed again. She wanted to believe Pete was innocent, but she'd already let her emotions cloud her judgment too much up to this point.

"Not until you gave me that journal that Charles hid at the manor," Pete replied calmly. "John Markham Smith may have been smart enough to organize a pretty major jewelry heist, but he was pretty dumb to write it all down. However, it was later in his life, based on the dates of the entries, so perhaps it was guilt? A long-standing grudge? Whatever the case, he mentioned how he and Rosie, Hal and Billy had pulled off one of the greatest jewelry heists in history, and then Billy botched everything by getting cold feet and wanting to return the jewels. It was almost like he wanted someone to find this journal after his death so that he could be notorious for this crime but could avoid the punishment."

"Hey, who's the cop here?" Ronni asked, lightly, forgetting for a moment that she was determined to stay mad at Pete. "And wait, why would they kill Billy for wanting him to return the jewels? Why not let him return them and deny their involvement? It would have been the perfect cover-up to a botched heist — they were all white and Billy was colored. During that era, who would have believed him over them?"

"I think John Markham Smith may have been a bit of a glory-hog and didn't want to take the chance that Billy would be deemed a hero for returning the jewels," Pete said. "They probably did have him carry the jewels in case they got caught. That way he could be the scapegoat. However, what they didn't count on was Billy hiding the jewels with the intent of returning them. Once they discovered what he had done, they likely determined that it would have been easier to kill him and find the jewels themselves, rather than threatening him and trying to force him to hand them over."

"However," said Ronni, jumping up and pacing the room, "Maybe Rosie cared more about her sister than I gave her credit for."

"What do you mean?" asked Pete.

"Think about it — if they really wanted to get revenge on Billy, the perfect revenge was asleep on the floor at Mike's Mirage," said Ronni.

Ronni and Pete both glanced over at Julia, still asleep in her chair.

Pete snapped his fingers, "You're right! They easily could have used Julia as leverage, but Rosie actually cared about her sister — enough to want her alive..."

"But maybe with enough hard feelings to want to see Julia have someone she cared about taken from her, much like Rosie probably felt that Julia did by having their father around as a child," Ronni said.

"I never thought of that," said a soft voice from across the room. Julia wasn't asleep after all. "Do you think she really resented me because of our father?"

Ronni and Pete both moved across the room and crouched on either side of Julia.

"I think her intentions of coming to Kansas probably weren't admirable," Ronni said gently. "I think she probably came to wreak havoc on your life, but was torn because she actually started to care for you. Then she sees this man who is head over heels for you, as she moves from one man to another, clearly unsatisfied with her life, and the old jealousies raged again."

"But what about Hal?" Julia asked. "He and Billy were best friends. If he was there that night, he must have known what they did to Billy, but he didn't say a thing when I went to get him to help me."

Ronni looked at Pete, hoping he'd have the answer, or at least a logical guess to this one.

"Why don't I bring him in and we'll ask him?" suggested Pete.

Ronni gasped. Julia's hands flew to her chest.

"Hal's alive?" asked Julia. "My Billy's Hal? He's here?"

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" asked Ronni, the edge back in her voice.

Pete held up his hands in defense. "Because he's almost as old as Julia and I didn't want you talking to him like you've been talking to me," he said, with a slight protective edge now in his voice.

Ronni fell silent. Pete was right, so far everything on his part had been without some sort of malicious motive. She could back down — a little.

"I'm sorry, Pete," said Ronni. "If it's okay with you, I'd really like to meet your grandfather, and I think Julia would like to be reacquainted with an old friend."

Ronni looked over at Julia who smiled in delight, suddenly looking like a child at Christmas.

"Let me see if he's awake and get him in his wheelchair," said Pete.

"Wait!" said Ronni. "Why is he here?"

"Because this is his house," said Pete.

He left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Within ten minutes, the door opened and Pete backed into the room, pulling a wheelchair with him. As he turned the chair around, Ronni could see that the years had been hard on Hal — his hands were gnarled with arthritis, probably from years of fighting and manual labor. However, as he looked up at her, she saw signs of the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes that she often saw in his grandson's.

Pete wheeled Hal over to the chair where Julia was sitting, "Grandpa, I don't know if you remember this beautiful lady or not," he said, winking at Julia. "But she's pretty anxious to see you."

"Julia," was all Hal said, and he looked back down at his hands.

Ronni looked from Julia to Hal and when neither of them proceeded to say anything, jumped in to start conversation.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Hal. My name is Ronni, and I'm a friend of Julia's and of, um, your grandson's." Ronni glanced at Pete and couldn't help but notice the slight grin at her introduction.

"We've been talking to Julia a lot about her past, especially the jewelry heist and the night that Billy died," said Ronni, placing her hand on Hal's knee. "Can you tell us anything about that night?"

Hal played with the throw that was on his lap a minute before mumbling, "Don't imagine it much matters now."

"Have you and Julia ever discussed the night that you buried Billy?" asked Ronni.

"Never," said Julia. "After the raid, it wasn't safe to be at Mike's any longer, so we all went our separate ways. Rosie and I stayed close, of course."

Ronni turned to Hal again. "Hal, I know this is probably difficult, but did you know that it was Rosie and John Markham Smith who killed Billy that night that Julia came to you for help?"

Hal continued to fidget with his throw. "I knew. Wasn't nothing I could do about it though. Would've caused more trouble if I did."

"More trouble how?" asked Pete, stepping forward and putting his hand on his grandfather's shoulder.

Hal looked up and met their eyes, one by one, finally stopping with Julia.

"If I would've said something they would've hurt Miss Julia next," said Hal.

"Rosie would have hurt Julia?" asked Ronni.

"Miss Rosie didn't have much say after they killed Billy. She said it was a mistake, and that John fellow told her she better keep her mouth shut," said Hal.

"So you were looking out for your best friend's girl by not saying anything?" asked Pete, nodding at Julia.

"There was more to it than that," said Hal.

Before Hal could go any further, Ronni thought of the letter that Billy had written Julia.

"Julia, can we read Hal that letter from Billy? He may know what the missing line is."

"Can't hurt," said Julia, handing the letter over to Ronni.

Ronni read the letter out loud, finishing with the last, mystery line:

P.S. There's one other thing. You need to know this, otherwise you will never -

Ronni stopped reading and looked at Julia. Julia was looking at Hal, as was Pete.

"What did he mean, Hal?" asked Julia.

Hal's gnarled hands started shaking. "Billy knew he was gonna die, but he also knew that if he lived, the two of you would never be able to have any kind of life together. He said it was you who reminded him of what a hard world we were living in."

Julia nodded and lowered her head, but not before Ronni saw the tears in her eyes.

"Billy wanted you to have a life — a nice life — with someone he trusted." Hal took a breath so deep his whole body seemed to shudder. "He wanted me to take care of you, but after everything that happened, I couldn't do it. I couldn't look you in the eye every day knowing that I should have done something to stop it. Plus, I was sweet on you back then, and, even though I had permission, I felt like I would have been cheating with my best friend's girl."

"Oh my!" Julia's hands flew to her chest again and she chuckled. "Imagine, my Billy, a bootlegger and a matchmaker."

Ronni grinned. When she looked at Pete, he was grinning back.

"Guess we'll never know what happened to those jewels," muttered Hal. "Pete, be a good boy and take me back to my room. I'm tired."

The jewels! As Pete wheeled Hal out of the room, Ronni's mind was in overdrive again. If Pete and Uncle Dallas brought fake jewels, where were the real ones?

Pete returned to the room. "So am I cleared of all charges officer?"

Ronni, however, wasn't done with him yet.

"What are you doing with KBI agents in your band?"

"That also was purely coincidence," said Pete. "I knew they were KBI, but they're just a couple of guys who have a stressful job and turn to music to unwind. They're good too."

"So how did we get to the point where Tyler is in the hospital with a gunshot wound and Ernest is downstairs interrogating Deborah?" Ronni asked.

"Well, I went to them for help when things started happening to Julia and to your mom," said Pete, looking sheepish. "I know you're a cop and all, but it seemed like you were too attached to this. Once they went to a superior agent and mentioned the cold-case jewelry heist, they were assigned immediately since they already had an in."

"Maybe they can help with the case Charles was building against your sister," said Ronni, still testing Pete, wanting to see his reaction.

"Wait — what case against my sister? What does Donna have to do with any of this?"

"Charles told me that he was working undercover on the cheating ring and that Donna was the target. He started dating me to get closer to her, to keep an eye on her," Ronni explained, noticing that Pete appeared genuinely shocked and concerned at this revelation.

"Cheating ring? My sister? But now Charles is in deep water of his own, so where's that information going to go?" asked Pete. "Ronni?"

Ronni didn't answer. In order for her to be a good officer, the right thing to do would be to turn over the journal with all the information regarding the jewelry heist, expose Julia for hiding the jewels all these years, and expose Donna for whatever information Charles had found on the cheating ring. However, being a good officer meant being a horrible person to those she had grown to care about. And what would Pete think if she turned all that information over, along with Deborah, Charles and their mother. Wait — where WERE Charles and his mother?

"Pete, we need to ..."

POP, POP, POP! Something sounding like gunfire drowned out the rest of Ronni's words.

CHAPTER 19 by Paul Swearingen

"Pete – get Julia into the bathroom. She'll be safe in there – for a while, anyway."

Pete's mouth opened and closed, but he jumped behind Julia's wheelchair, looked around, and pushed it in the direction of one of two inside doors. He pulled it open, glanced inside, and pushed the chair inside the bathroom behind the door. "Lock the door," he told her. "Don't open it until you hear one of us."

"All right, dear." Julia's voice wafted through the door. Ronni listened with both ears for a commotion outside, but she could hear nothing but silence. In a moment, she heard a slide bolt click.

"Don't move, Pete. These old wooden floors are creaky, and we don't want someone shooting through the door at us." Ronni glanced down at the worn softwood floors. Why couldn't they at least have laid some rugs down? But the room was almost bare except for the old metal-frame bed, which had held only a thin mattress over sagging box springs. Plus there was a threadbare, almost colorless coverlet, a pair of wooden chairs stacked in one corner, and a tower of leaning cardboard boxes in another. Obviously the room was used only for storage. She could see a layer of dust on the windowsill, and the cotton café curtain was faded almost to pale beige.

"What about Hal?" Pete whispered.

"Let's hope he's safe in his room, too."

A strong tap on the door made her jump. "It's me, Ernest."

He pushed open the door and peered at them. "Better stay in there until we're sure that everything is secure. Charles and his mommy tried to pay an unannounced visit and shoot their way in, but they ran off when a black-and-white turned the corner and pulled up in front. I guess those idiots just couldn't stay away, thinking that we had the real jewels here." He held his hand to an earpiece and grinned. "Well, here's an update. Mother Banning is being cuffed right now as she lies in a muddy flower bed, and ..." He hesitated, listened to his earpiece, and smiled. "Charles is still on foot somewhere, and they're bringing in tracking dogs. He won't be running for long."

"Well, thank goodness." Ronni let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Julia."

Pete nodded and tapped on the bathroom door. "It's me – Pete. You can unlock the door, Julia." He waited. No response.

"Oh, jeez. I don't really want to intrude on a lady in a ... Julia? Can you hear me?"

A faint "Yes" floated to them, followed by "Just give me a minute."

Ernest shook his head. "I'll be in the dining room, chatting with Deborah. She's already told me some interesting stories. I'll tell you when you all can come out." The door closed behind him.

The slide bolt clicked, and the door opened inward. In a moment, Julia wheeled through the doorway."I'm sorry. But when you gotta go ..."

Ronni tried not to laugh at the sight of Pete's face. But why was he so embarrassed? Hadn't he grown up with his sister Donna in his house?

"What was all that commotion, dear?"

Ronni looked down at Julia. "That was Mommy Dearest and Charles trying to break in. But she's being hauled off to be booked, I suppose. Charles is still on the run, though, so we have to stay here for a while."

"Oh. That's good. I'm tired. I'd really like to go home now, as long as she's not going to be there." Julia's face seemed to sag a little.

"Soon. Very soon, I hope." Ronni pulled one of the chairs off the stack, inverted it, and sat. Rather hard, but better than standing. Pete sat in the other chair and leaned back in it until it creaked ominously, and then he abruptly plopped all four feet – six, with his own two feet, as one of her teachers was fond of reminding high school boys – onto the floor.

"So Hal went back to his room?" Julia asked.

"Yes, Julia. He's safe." Ronni returned to the hard chair and squirmed a little.

Julia looked down at her lap and twisted her hands as if she were washing them. Finally, she looked up at Pete, and then Ronni, and took a deep breath.

"I guess you know that I fib sometimes."

Pete chuckled, and Ronni nodded.

"I wasn't so glad to see Hal again as you might think. In fact, we've avoided each other for all these years, and actually, I figured he'd died long ago. I knew that he was sweet on me, but back then I loved only Billy. Even though I found out Billy was playing matchmaker because he knew that we'd never ..." She paused and dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Too bad it took so long for times to change," Pete murmured and looked at Ronni.

She caught his glance and turned to Julia. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Julia. I know it still hurts ..."

Julia sat up straight. "It does, and I'd buried all those memories for so many years. For so long ..."

"I'm sorry. And it's my fault. If I hadn't gotten a wild hair and decided to interview you, maybe you would have ... ah, gone on without being bothered."

A dry noise came from Julia, and Ronni realized that she was chuckling, or even laughing.

"You mean, I could have died happy, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, young lady. If I never learned anything else about life over these years, I'll be happy to have realized that unless you can be sad, you really never can be truly happy. If you're always on the go, and moving fast like we did in your uncle's car, you can't appreciate sitting still. If you don't have bad times, you can't appreciate the good."

Julia pointed at a picture on the wall, and both Ronni and Pete followed the direction of her finger. It was a scene of a storm, dark clouds juxtaposed with a section of white, sunlit clouds over a frantic sea below a flat beach under a cliff.

"Chiaroscuro. See it? It's just like life. Light and dark. If you didn't have the dark clouds against the lighter ones, and the water contrasted with the beach and the cliffs, you'd have a really boring painting, wouldn't you?"

Ronni stared at the painting and tried to imagine just a scene of only the sea, or the beach, or storm clouds. Julia was right. Boring.

"Just like life. You gotta have your dark times to allow you to appreciate the lighter ones. And I've had both."

Pete cleared his throat. "You've studied ..."

"Art. Life. People. Human nature. Nature. And I've had a lot of time to think about life. Lots of changes, too, over more than a hundred years. Some good, some bad. Well ..." The last word came out as a sigh.

Ronni couldn't think of anything to say, and she tried to catch Pete's eye with no success.

"Okay, about the fibbing. I didn't really like Hal. He was too involved in my Billy's death, and I didn't do enough to stop it. Billy wanted Hal and me to live comfortably from the jewels stolen from the Westfeld heist, but I guess he didn't stop to realize that we'd have a hard time selling them off. He was right to want to return them. What happened was that after we covered Billy up, Hal and I made a pact to get rid of the jewels, the peacock brooch, the diamond watch, all the pearls and diamonds and other valuables, so we scattered them here and there in the trenches after we buried poor Billy, just kicking a few rocks over them."

Ronni gasped and glanced at Pete, whose face was rigid. "You mean ..."

"They're somewhere below the concrete footings under the auditorium, and my Billy is guarding them. Any time someone gets too close to them, his ghost is likely to come out of hiding and push the poor soul away from them. I've heard many a story about ghosts around the auditorium, and the first time I heard the stories, I knew exactly what was going on." She nodded her head.

"But to throw away all those valuable jewels, just to bury them ... forever, when they could have provided you a comfortable living ..." Ronni shook her head. "I can't understand why you'd do that."

Julia fixed her with a look. "Oh, my. I guess that was another fib. Who says we threw them all away?" Again, Ronni could hear that same dry wheeze.

"I was young but not stupid. I managed to palm a handful of diamonds that I never told Hal about, and that's why I broke contact with him. Maybe I was a little selfish. I knew that the gaudy stuff like the peacock had to go because I could never sell them in this country, but loose diamonds wouldn't be a problem. Too many exact descriptions and photos of the jewelry existed. You've probably seen some of them yourself, Ronni."

She nodded. Yes, she'd seen various black-and-white photos of the jewels, evidently shot by a photographer with a large-format camera to provide the family with images for insurance purposes in case something happened to the jewelry.

Pete cleared his throat. "But the fake jewels. Where did they come from? And why did you bother with them?"

"Oh, Hal managed to filch some photos of the jewels while they were in the house. I guess he knew where to look. And then for some reason he left the photos with me, and years later, when I could still get around but knew that I'd have to go to assisted living, I sent them to a young fellow in San Francisco and told him to make me up some copies. All he knew was that I liked the looks of those jewels in the heist and wanted copies. Cost me enough for those, too. He was good and didn't come cheap."

"I still don't see ..." Ronni frowned and glanced at Pete. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Let's just say it was a little blackmail, or let's call it a little black fib. I wanted to be sure that I'd be taken care of, and I knew that my niece or whatever she is was managing that nursing home. I also knew all about her connections with John Markham Smith, so one day we had a little talk. I told her that after I died she'd get all the jewels, that I'd leave them to her in my will if she'd take extra-good care of me. I guess I didn't count on her getting a little anxious, did I?" Again that dry chuckle.

Ronni took a deep breath. "But the handful of diamonds?"

"All gone. Sold the last one about a year ago and closed out the safety deposit box. All I own now is what I'm wearing and what's back in my room at the nursing home. Oh, and you know what? The day after we had that fun ride in your uncle's car, I called my lawyer and had him write up a will leaving everything to you, Ronni. I probably need to burn this note from Billy, but I think I'll just trust you and Pete to take care of that for me. What do I care what happens now, anyway? If I have any relatives left – and I don't mean that two-faced Deborah, either – they'll just have to suck eggs."

"Left your ... to me?" Ronni had a hard time making herself look at Pete. Considering what Julia had done behind Pete's grandfather's back, it simply wasn't fair that she should get everything that was left. Or maybe Julia still had some papers left that she could use in her dissertation?

"Yes. Oh, by the way, the emerald ring is real. Take good care of that for me, will you?"

Ronni felt tears well up behind her eyelids, and she blinked rapidly until she could see clearly again.

Pete whistled and leaned back in his chair so far that it again creaked ominously. This time he didn't bother to bring the front legs back down. "You know, it's a good thing that I resolved myself to a vow of poverty when I went into library science."

"Poverty? I didn't know librarians had to be paupers," Ronni tossed at him.

"When was the last time you ever heard of a rich librarian? Okay, let's just say that I'm perfectly happy living my life as it is. I'm not rich, but I have a good job, and that ring will look good on you." His steady gaze towards Ronni didn't need to be interpreted. She blushed.

"But since we're into confession time here, I have one of my own. Donna's not my sister."

Ronni wrinkled her brow. "What?" She glanced at Julia, who didn't seem to be interested. In fact, she seemed to be taking a nap.

"She's my cousin. And guess what – she's involved in that cheating ring, all right. Only she's been helping the university to try to discover what's been going on, and I think now with Charles probably facing a beast with fangs and being ready to spill his guts to someone with a tape recorder, she'll be able to close out her part in the case."

"She's a cop, too?"

"Nope. Just a pre-law student who saw an opportunity to help out and learn something about investigation to give her some perspective on her way to becoming a crack prosecution lawyer. Talk about taking a vow of poverty for a few years – she's going to be stuck working for the state at a set salary for years, but she says that's what she wants to do with her life instead of overbilling clients who are defendants in tort or medical cases. She just wants to be on the side of the good guys and help give lawyers a good name."

"Touching," Ronni sighed. "And you didn't bother to tell me this why?"

"Oh, you know. I knew it would all come out eventually, and I didn't want to interfere with what was going on in what either of you were involved."

"Oh. Well. I guess that's all right." Ronni wasn't sure that anything was all right at this point. It was going to look a little odd that she was going to inherit whatever Julia still possessed. And the conversation that Donna and she would share would be a little awkward, as she didn't know just how much Donna knew about her activities.

And covering for Julia? Sure, the statue of limitations protected everything that Julia had done, plus most likely nothing of value except information that she could use in her dissertation remained in Julia's room at Lakeview Manor. And the emerald ring.

Okay. That was settled. All she needed now was a match, or a lighter, to turn the note from Billy into ashes in the bathroom. But no one in the room smoked, that she knew of. She'd have to risk a quick trip outside the room to see if Ernest carried a lighter. She stood.

"Julia? I'll be right back."

No response.

Ronni glanced at Pete and then reached for Julia's wrist.

"Julia?"

CHAPTER 20 by Lissa Staley

Ronni reached for Julia's wrist.

"Pete, I don't feel a pulse." Ronni's voice sounded calm to her own ears. She'd always been aware that Julia was very old. She'd even joked to herself about Julia dying before she could schedule the interviews. But that was before she knew Julia. That was before she considered Julia a friend. Just a few minutes earlier, Julia had been alive and chuckling about dying happy.

Pete knelt in front of Julia's wheelchair and slowly reached up to feel for a pulse at her neck.

"I'm sorry, Ronni," Pete said after a minute. "I think she's gone."

Ronni kissed Julia's forehead and whispered, "Go in peace, my friend."

Ronni looked at Pete. The muscles in his jaw were clenched, but otherwise his face was blank. Why didn't men show emotion? Ronni thought. She sniffed, and a tear ran down her cheek.

"Let's wait in the hallway." Pete said. He took Ronni's hand and pulled gently, and she followed him through the door. Ronni slid down the wall on the light hardwood floor, her knees collapsing beneath her. Pete closed the door quietly, and crouched down next to her. He smoothed a lock of hair back from her forehead and tried to meet her eyes. Ronni turned away to stare off into the distance, swallowing hard and fighting more tears.

Ronni's mind was crowded with all of the things they would have to do next. Getting a doctor to write a death certificate and calling an undertaker. Notifying relatives, some of whom were in police custody. The funeral! Julia's will, if Julia had been speaking the truth when she mentioned that earlier. Probate and lawyers and challenges from the disinherited criminal relatives. Clearing out Julia's apartment. Sorting through Julia's memories. Protecting Julia even in death.

Julia may have found peace, but Ronni's complicated life was only going to get more messy. Ronni tried to push all of that aside and clear her head. She tried to take a deep, cleansing breath, but she had to choke back a sob instead. She couldn't control her own emotions, so why did she think she could control anything else in her life?

"Julia wanted us to write the story, you know," Pete said softly, interrupting her thoughts.

"What story?" Ronni was distracted, her eyes darting to the closed door, then to the spot on the floor she had been studying, then to her fingers, knotted in her lap.

"The story." Pete nodded his head to the closed door. "The jewels. The heist. Billy. The nursing home."

Ronni turned to face Pete, focusing on what he was saying. "Like a seedy true crime novel?" she asked.

Pete shook his head. "I'm a librarian. You're an anthropologist." Pete flashed his quicksilver grin. "She wanted us to include how the depression and prohibition and racial tension and class issues and politics all played into it, and the ways the actions of the past affect the future generations. The whole story."

Ronni sighed, wistfully. "Like my dissertation."

Pete nodded. "Even though we are involved in this story, we have the skills to portray it fairly, to share it compellingly. People love learning about the past, as long as a good mystery plotline can draw them in."

"I'm not really an anthropologist, yet. In fact, it was all supposed to be part of my cover for these investigations," Ronni reminded him.

"Well, sure." Pete shrugged. "But you'll be one soon enough. Your criminal justice degree is a perfect background for making your fake anthropology degree a real career. All of the coursework you've had on observing and studying and researching makes this a logical choice."

"How do you make things seem so easy?" Ronni asked. The miasma of double dealing and lies had caught up with her. Ronni couldn't accept anyone else's motives at face value any more. The chances were too great that the person would be playing her, or trying to manipulate her, or subverting her own motives for their purposes. Ronni wanted to believe Pete. She really wanted to believe Pete. He was so charming.

"Nothing is ever as simple as it seems," Pete said. "Some things are obvious, or hidden in plain sight."

The way that Pete was looking at her so intently, Ronni entertained the idea that he was hinting about her. And him. She wanted to believe Pete was hinting, but every time she made an assumption lately, she was wrong. Where was Pete going with this?

"What do you mean?" she finally asked.

"Like Hal," Pete explained. "He's refused to discuss the past, and never been flamboyant with money. But he quietly paid my college tuition, has amassed quite a stock portfolio and that stormy painting in his spare bedroom is a late Monet called 'Thunder over Water Lilies.' Hal hasn't had a simple life, but by living simply, he hasn't drawn attention to himself either."

"Do you think he palmed his own handful of diamonds when Julia did?" Ronni asked. She wondered if Pete was trying to confess something else he knew. She wasn't sure if she could handle any more surprise revelations at this point. The secret wealth of Hal didn't exactly surprise her. She had training in observing details; she had noticed several pieces of furniture and equipment to make her suspect the inhabitant wasn't living in poverty despite the air of neglect and under-use of the rooms.

"I don't know where Hal's money came from originally," Pete admitted. "He's always been a closed book. I doubt all of his story will ever be told. Where Julia tells a little fib and keeps on talking, Hal has always stayed quiet."

"So is Hal going to be a part of Julia's story that you are writing, then?" Ronni asked.

"I don't know." Pete said. "I can't betray my own grandfather."

Ronni's anger was instant. "But you can betray Julia? And you can plan my life out for me, but when I ask you about your plans, I just get 'I don't know.' Everyone I've met lately has an agenda and a back pocket full of lies. In my coursework, I was prepared to apprehend criminals, but I didn't realize that everyone I encountered would be one."

Pete looked thoughtful, and he didn't speak for a minute. "Ronni, I think most of the people you have met lately are selfish. And their selfish motivations haven't served them, or anyone else, well."

Ronni sat in silence, running through her mind all of the people she met over the course of this assignment. Charles. Ms. Banning. Nurse Lydia. Deborah. Donna. Pete.

"Including you?" Ronni asked.

"My motivations have changed over time," Pete said. "At first I was interested in you, and then I was interested in Julia and her connection to my family. And then I wanted to protect both you and Julia. And then I wanted to help you with your research, and my own family research. And then I just wanted to save my friends, and Julia, and you from danger."

"And now Julia is gone and your friend Tyler is hurt and most everyone else is being arrested or will finally be safe," Ronni said. So much of the drama of the last few months was coming to a close. Why didn't she feel more relieved?

"I'm still interested in you," Pete said. No grin. "You're still so lovely to me."

"Isn't that pretty selfish to admit? We're sitting outside the room of a dead woman, and you want to confess your true feelings? That's not the confession I was anticipating," Ronni said. She wanted to be teasing him, but she was too close to tears to pull it off. She was hurt, and it showed more than she liked.

"It seemed timely." Pete shrugged, his expression rueful.

"Because this is the end of Julia's story, and that's our connection," Ronni said, flatly. After this there wouldn't really be a reason for her to call him, or for him to stop by. Her connection to him through Donna was mainly a sham. Their other connections were going to be closely investigated. Ronni wasn't sure what kind of trouble she was going to be in with her boss, but she knew this assignment had not gone as expected. Maybe going back to grad school would be the best option after all.

Pete cleared his throat. "Am I going to see you again?"

"Sure, at Julia's funeral. We'll both be called as witnesses when a suit is filed against Charles and Ms. Banning. I'd say we have some solid plans." Ronni spoke in her best official tone. She was done letting emotion influence her decisions. It was too risky.

"And if I wanted to see you outside of a funeral home or a courtroom?" Pete pressed.

"At the library. If Julia really left notes in her apartment, I'll need help fleshing out her history into a broader anthropological study..." Ronni trailed off, allowing herself to realize that Pete was asking a different question than the one she was answering. She was grateful when he helped her out, although she felt frustrated that she'd read a situation wrong yet again.

"And if I was famished and parched?" Pete asked, with his trademarked grin.

"Dinner? And drinks?" Ronni smiled, wryly. "You really are asking me out in the hallway."

"I just wanted something formalized, to state my intentions honestly, in this moment of calm before everything gets crazy again around us." Pete said.

"What would Julia say about this?" Ronni asked, nodding toward the closed door again.

"She recommended Blind Tiger."

"Wait, you two discussed this?" Ronni shouldn't have been surprised. Those two had bonded from the first meeting.

"A while ago. We were talking about the lack of a good speakeasy in Topeka these days, and the modern alternatives."

"And Julia recommended Blind Tiger?" Ronni was still skeptical.

"Julia recommended I take you on a date. I think her exact words were 'Stop following that poor girl around and finally treat her right.' But I'm choosing to remember her in my own way, so as not to speak poorly of the departed."

"People do that with the dead. Remember them differently. Sanitize things," Ronni sighed.

"Julia did, most likely. Her memories of Billy, of Rosie, of all of it, changed over time as she told the stories to herself in her head, pretended that certain parts never happened, or tried to protect herself and their memories."

"And so we're left with dinner plans but no clear facts about her past. And more questions than ever." Ronni sighed.

"It's a better legacy than most people leave." Pete said. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both watching the closed door, lost in their own thoughts.

"What do you want to do now?" Pete asked.

"How do I even know what I want?" The words came pouring out of Ronni as she tried to sort out her confusion. "My mom pushed the nursing home investigation on me because of my grandmother's mistreatment. My whole family pushed law enforcement. It's a tradition. And lately everybody's been a lot more open about using me to get what they want. How do I decide what I actually want? Anthropology was foisted on me by my supervisor at the police department, and it turns out he had his own motives for that too. And now you're pushing writing Julia's story. How do I know that's the right thing for me to do?"

"I meant, are you ready to report Julia's death?" Pete said."But those are all good questions too."

"Oh." Ronni blushed, embarrassed by her own emotional outburst.

"You should take some time to figure out what you want," Pete suggested.

"Really, take some time? Weren't you just asking me out?" Ronni countered.

"You know my intentions. I'm not going anywhere. When you're ready, my offer of dinner will still be waiting." Pete said.

EPILOGUE

Four months later

"Hey stranger, can I pour you a drink?" Ronni called out, as Pete came through the back door of the bar, lugging several instruments in cases.

"I'll come see you on a break between sets," Pete promised."And you know I'm a big tipper."

The bar was already crowded, and the band started their first set quickly. Pete's band had been playing more of the jazz standards of the twenties and thirties at these weekly gigs, and people were coming out to listen and to dance.

Ronni was kept busy with the drink specials – on jazz night, the bar promoted mint juleps, sidecars, martinis, and gin rickeys. People delighted in ordering the jazz-era drinks for ambiance. Ronni always enjoyed watching the guys play, especially as Tyler had made a full recovery from his gunshot wound. The young woman who sang with the band most weeks was a knock-out brunette with her own local fan following and a flirtatious style, although she was actually dating Ernest.

"So, are you ever going to let me take you out to dinner?" Pete asked, sliding onto an open bar stool across from Ronni.

"We see each other all the time!" Ronni protested. Besides the weekly jazz gig at the bar, they had met several times to sort out the details of Julia's personal affairs. The week of the funeral was intense, but legal bureaucracy had slowed down everything since then. Pete's music was their main connection now.

"Donna said to tell you hello, by the way." Pete said. "I saw her over the weekend." Without asking what he wanted to drink, Ronni pulled out gin, lemons, and simple syrup to mix Pete a French 75 cocktail, filling the flute with champagne to the top before passing it to him.

"I never run into her, even though we're both in Lawrence." Ronni had moved out of their shared housing months ago, into a small studio apartment over the bar. Sometimes she felt like Julia must have felt, living at Mike's Mirage and never escaping the sounds and smells, but Ronni liked it. She kept things simple these days.

"She's studying. All the time." Pete said. "Even though the cheating ring at the law school wasn't widespread, she thinks the professors are still cracking down on everyone anyway."

"Speaking of tough enforcers, my mom called last night with good news," Ronni offered.

"Did she go out and bust some heads?" Pete teased.

"Sort of. She accepted a job at the Bureau of Health Facilities doing inspections of nursing homes." Ronni was proud of her mother's new career path and glad her mother had found a way to channel her passion for protecting older adults from those who would take advantage.

"And she's not worried, after what happened to Lydia?" Pete asked.

"I don't think my mom expects she will be uncovering many more elaborately organized schemes for bilking the elderly and stealing historical treasures. Now that Charles and his family are out of the business, she can concentrate on normal protections for her clients."

"And what do you plan to concentrate on?" Pete asked. He reached for Ronni's hand, but she busied herself tidying up the bar and pretended not to notice.

"Well," she said, "I submitted my application to the anthropology department at KU, so I'll probably concentrate on being a student for a while."

Pete raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's great," he said. "Are you going to keep up with your day job?"

Ronni laughed. "I put in for a leave of absence, but I'll still be working here at the bar to pay the bills." She paused, then sighed. "I'm just not sure if I want to stay on that path anymore."

Pete waved to the guys who were reassembling on the small stage at the back of the bar and finished his drink. He smiled at Ronni as he stood to rejoin his band. He started to walk towards the stage, but then paused and turned back. "By the way," he said, "I heard that the last two years of drought have caused some wide cracks in Topeka High's foundation. They're going to have to jack it up and replace all of those concrete footings." Ronni's eyes widened.

"So," she said, "Julia's secrets will finally be unearthed."

Pete nodded. "Have you decided whether or not you'll tell her story?" he said.

Ronni looked down, chewing her lip thoughtfully. So much had happened, and she wasn't even sure that she'd sorted everything out in her mind. She knew that telling Julia's story was going to take a lot of work. Ronni closed her eyes and pictured Julia's sweet smile. She remembered Julia's reluctance to start telling about her life that first day at the nursing home, and her delight when Pete had played "Get Happy" on her clarinet. Her faded blue eyes had glowed. Ronni sighed. Julia had waited for so long to let her story out into the light of day. At that moment, Ronni felt her shoulders relax. Her tense muscles felt warm and easy, as if she had lowered herself into a hot bath. Ronni smiled as she looked up at Pete.

"I guess I'd better get ready," she said. Her smile widened to a grin, and Pete grinned back.

"Sounds like a request," he said. He reached for her hand and this time she let him take it. They held on for a moment before Pete turned and walked over to his band. Ronni stood behind the bar and watched him settle in with his clarinet and signal to the others. The familiar tune began to rise, and then the words flowed over her. "Forget your troubles, come on, get happy..." Ronni closed her eyes and let the memories come again, a slideshow of sounds and images. She heard Julia humming softly, the warmth in her voice when she spoke about Billy, and her stories of singing and playing at the speakeasy. "Get Happy" had still had the power to uplift and transport Julia, decades after she had performed for the customers of Mike's Mirage. Now, the lyrics of the song had become an anthem for Ronni's own life. She sang along softly as the song came near to the end. "You better chase all your cares away!"

Ronni knew that Pete was still waiting for that dinner, still waiting to treat her right as Julia had suggested. She still didn't know what the future held for her and Pete, or for Julia's story, but the weight of doubt and indecision that had weighed her down for the last four months had disappeared in that warm moment when she'd imagined Julia's faded blues eyes. She was ready to reach out and take her happiness into her own hands, and she would do her best to hold on to it.

In a moment of inspiration Ronni grabbed a bar napkin and a pen and scribbled out, "Julia felt blessed beyond words, and thanked God every day. The Great Depression had swept across the nation, and she had a job, a soft bed, and her own clarinet." Ronni smiled. It was a good start. She folded the napkin and put it into her pocket, then she looked over to the stage. Pete and the rest of the band were packing up, chatting and laughing as they put their instruments away. Ronni took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then walked across the room to ask him out to dinner.

###

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A community novel isn't possible without a community. The 2013 Community Novel Project, SpeakEasy, is about more than just the work of fiction that we are producing. Each contributor works individually and as part of the team, to plan, conceptualize, write, edit, narrate, publish, and promote the novel. The community of SpeakEasy would like to acknowledge these contributions to this project, among many others.

Aimee L. Gross proposed the scenario for this novel, and along with C R Kennedy, Miranda Ericsson Kendall and Elaine Greywalker helped write the premise. D. L. Rose came up with the title.

Nathan Pauley designed the website for the serialized book, set up the wiki for editing and set up our ebook publishing software. Richard Kobs created the graphics for the SpeakEasy logo. Lisa Coble-Krings wrote press releases and designed the cover. Thad Hartman edited and uploaded each chapter of the audiobook version. Sandi Savage narrated the audiobook, often recording each chapter in a single take. Carrie Cummings talked through the details. Stephanie Hall kept a cool head in a crisis, or two. Lissa Staley emailed requests and reminders and encouragement and appreciation at all times of the day and night for months on end; thank goodness for smartphones. Shamecha Simms, Ginger Park, and Michelle Morris brought their grammatical skills and attention to detail to the manuscript as editors, along with many of the authors including Miranda Ericsson Kendall, Aimee L. Gross, Sarah Langley and Paul Swearingen.

And then there are the authors. Each author was willing to take someone else's story and characters, make it their own for one week of writing, and then hand off their work to a stranger. As a writer, this project requires bravery, risk-taking, trust, kindness and a level of cooperation not often practiced by those of us engaged in the solitary creation of fictional worlds.

We won't forget to thank you, dear reader, for joining us on this adventure. We hope you enjoy the story, and if you are interested, the author interviews at the end of the book reveal much of the process behind the production.

AUTHOR INTERVIEWS

 Aimee L. Gross is a local author who relished the challenge of last year's community novel project, so volunteered for another round. She is currently editing/revising her four Young Adult novels, while also working on a western and an espionage tale. A life-long writer, many of her best days are spent accommodating all those characters who appear in her mind's eye with a story they want told. She can be reached at agross9999@yahoo.com.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I adore the writing community I have discovered in Topeka via the annual Nanowrimo event. I would have crossed paths with few, if any, of the people I've met who love to tell a great story while hearing about the tale you are spinning, as well. Participating in the first Community Novel Project was a means of challenging myself with something totally new, and it proved to be a blast! I'm back for more, having learned so much from the first experience besides just having fun with other authors. I hope the project continues to be an annual event for TSCPL.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy?

Ronni, Pete, Julia and Charles are, like many characters who come to my thoughts, fully realized with a back-story and personal agenda from their first appearance in my mind. The biggest challenge for me this year is letting go of my investment in their story, and settling back to see where each successive author takes them next.

What is your favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

Writing the opening chapter, I wanted to be sure and establish the characters' voice, Ronni's goal and what was preventing her from getting to it, plus introducing some conflict and potential plot lines for the authors to come. That is a lot to do in 2000 to 3000 words, but I think I did it! I am most proud of the pacing, and starting with the broken-down car (instead of another beginning I was considering with Ronni trying to justify her choice of Julia to a dubious professor. Too dull and talky.) My least favorite piece? I may have been unfair to Carl, using him expediently to step up the conflict. I know many very helpful guys who work at oil change places.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

As usual, I spent time exploring different beginnings in my mind, looking for a 'hook' before I sat down to type. I'm a 'pantser' (write by the seat of the pants- a Nanowrimo term) and find when I try to write with an outline, the characters just have no respect for my plan at all. They tell the story their own way; I just have to listen close and get it down.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

I have learned there are so many ways to take a story forward, all valid, and how many directions a plot can veer with each author's vision doing the steering. I don't know another way to learn about these aspects of fiction, except sharing in a Community Novel Project!

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

When I was about nine or ten, I wrote stories that usually involved mysteries kids would solve, or spooky tales in a fairy tale vein. My family often joked when I was seen bent over a tablet with pursed lips and a scribbling pencil, "Aimee's writing the Great American Novel again." As an adult, I have written YA fantasy primarily, but I have a particular love of SF, and am working on a western and an espionage novel. Both last year's and this year's Community Novel Project are different for me, due to a contemporary setting and an intended audience of adult readers.

 C R Kennedy is a graduate of Kansas State University where she majored in finance and accounting. Her passion for creativity and the Hollywood silver screen sparked her career drive to write vintage and modern-day romance and mystery stories. She lives in Topeka and is an active member of Kansas Writers Inc. and The Blackbird Writing Group. C R has several works in progress and available stories can be found at crkennedyink.com.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I love the idea of one writer putting their hard work and personal touch into a story and then letting go, hoping the next writer will pick up on those story visions and characters aspirations, but accepting that it might not happen. It's exciting to follow the path the story takes after it leaves your hands, and thrilling when someone down the line decides to nurture a seed that you planted, and you get to watch it grow in a way you never imagined.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

I write vintage stories so I was excited that part of the premise is based on historical happenings in Kansas during the early twentieth century. The time period of tolerance, prohibition, and the depression is ripe for mystery, excitement, and deep human conflict—all elements for a great story. Ronni Long is young and ambitious, and I'll be very excited to see how she grows and how the similarities and differences of her life compared to Julia Stanford's come to play. Julia has led such a full, rich life, and I can't wait to learn more about her secrets and adventures. But honestly, at the moment, my favorite character is Pete. I see in him so much energy, passion, and a zest for life. I see him as a catalyst for enlivening both Ronni and Julia.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I hope Ronni and Pete fall madly in love. I hope Julia has one last exciting adventure in her life, hopefully far from the confines of the retirement community. I hope Julia discovers the truth about how Billy the Bootlegger died, and is able to let go of any guilt that she's been burdened with for over seventy years.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

To tell the truth, I rarely outline anything. I guess I'm more of a "burst of inspiration" writer. I just take off with the characters and let them introduce themselves to me. I try to follow them closely and listen to who they really are as I put them in situations, or as they go there themselves. I tried writing an outline once—big waste of time. The characters had their own ideas about what they wanted to do, and their designs were much better than mine.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

That we're all so different, and our imaginations are unique. What a blessing! The world would be so dull if we all thought the same.

 Miranda Ericsson Kendall was born in the Ozarks of Missouri, but she has lived in Topeka, Kansas, for 20 years. She graduated from Highland Park High School, and earned her degree in English with an emphasis in creative writing at Washburn University. She is a joyful mom with two bright children and one pug-terrier mix, and loves to be outside enjoying the beauty of Kansas with them whenever possible. She is often caught reading science fiction, poetry, or children's picture books. Dogs, unicorns, and history are some of her favorite inspirations.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I really enjoyed reading last year's community novel, Capital City Capers, as it came to life week by week. I wanted to be a part of this year's project so that I could add my part to a collaborative work, and take part in the fun of watching it come together.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy?

I think that this year's premise is very intriguing! At this point in the writing, our characters still have a lot of developing to do, but I like Ronni, and her friend Pete, very much. Already Julia is my favorite character, and I can't wait to see what she reveals. The challenges of these characters are in trying to know them when we come from very different places. I understand Ronni's dedication to scholarship, but anthropology is a field that I have touched base with only in a survey course. Julia is coming to us from a long way in the past, no doubt with a very different perspective on life than a woman of our age. It will be interesting to see how these two women interact in order to shed light on a fascinating period in American history.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

The chapter before mine was written very strongly! My first reaction, to be honest, was something like: "What did I get myself into?"  
Of course, having a strong and interesting chapter to spring from was a lift for my own writing, and I was definitely grateful after my initial panic to have such a great lead to follow.

What is your favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

I am particularly happy to have turned Pete into a librarian! I think that there are a lot of great possibilities for his character, and the partnership that seems to be springing up between Ronni and Pete. I am also pleased to have taken the two into a local bar and grill, Speck's, which I hope will get all kinds of folks to try out those great burgers.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

Well, I do want Ronni to break it off with Charles, I admit it! I want Julia to really illuminate her history, and to help Ronni understand herself better, in the process. I want to see a bar scene set in Lawrence. And jazz. Much more jazz!

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

I think that after reading chapter 2, it seemed pretty obvious to me that Ronni and Pete's dinner break would be a great opportunity for character development. I wanted to use my chapter to share a little more information about Ronni's academic goals, and to hint at what drives her. I also wanted to get to know Pete a little better, and to let Ronni soften up towards him a bit more. That said, there were little bursts of inspiration that kept the writing exciting for me as I went. For instance, Ronni's enthusiasm about Carry Nation and Kansas women, and how that revealed a little about herself and her goals.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

I had the great experience with this project of sitting down to write with a deadline ahead of me. I learned that having a deadline is a great way to get motivated!

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I have been writing as long as I can remember, but for many years I focused exclusively on journaling and poetry. I also have a lot of experience with academic writing, because I was an English major and have worked as a writing tutor for many years. In the last couple of years I've really put a lot more time into fiction, but I have never written a collaborative work. It was very different for me to pick up someone else's thread and premise and just roll with it! It was, in some ways, amazingly freeing. I enjoyed the writing process itself very much, and found that I didn't overthink my writing as I often do when shaping up my own ideas.

What did you like best about being involved in the Community Novel Project?

Getting to know others who are passionate about writing in my community!

  Elaine Greywalker is a visual artist and writer. Her first published novel, "Uncle Tauber's Trunk", is available through Amazon.com. She writes SciFi/Fantasy novels with touches of time travel and mystery. She is an avid participant in National Novel Writing Month. Having multiple novel drafts has never prevented her from writing another. She sustains five blogs, one focused on creativity and the creative process. Sometimes she writes poetry and has published two chap books. She creates art in two categories: fantasy landscapes and abstract expressionism. Her published fine art is available through Fine Art America, Zazzle and Deviant Art. She tweets as "whooshing." You can find out more than you ever wanted to know by visiting heartwind.com.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I participated in a similar project once before and I like to make things up.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

I like Julia and am looking forward to learning more about her life. I'm curious about how things are going to fall out with Ronni and her two guys.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

All at once. I'm a pantser. I love to let everything fall out of my head and on to the page.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

When I hit 42,000 words while writing my first novel, I wrapped a silk scarf around my head and chanted "Swami Bawami" for about 10 minutes. I have no idea where that came from. Who knows what would happen if I won the lottery?

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

Mostly I'm self-trained. I usually write SciFi/Fantasy novels involving other planets and multiple space-time continuums. This project involves Kansas and linear time only. Intriguing.

 Nan Plum is the witty pseudonym of a Topeka author who supports the local writing community while writing and publishing  
great fiction.

 A. M. Coffee: Antonette Coffee has resided in Topeka for 23 years; married for 18 year to Don. Together they have six children and four grandchildren. Beginning her writing at the age of 14, inspired by her life experiences and faith, she won a poetry contest for "Heartbroken" at the age of 15 which gave her more inspiration. She has led teenage book reads at her local library; takes the opportunity to mentor to young people by volunteering at local community centers coaching volleyball; and teaches Youth Adult Sunday School at the church she attends. Antonette has participated in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) since 2005–winning in 2011 & 2012. Antonette also coauthored & participated in the 2012 Community Novel Project.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I so enjoyed the opportunity to participate in such a project with my fellow NaNoWriMoers for the first time in 2012. After working with them for so many years on our own individual novels every November, I felt it would be a great experience to put our heads together once again and create a new world of imaginative writing in unity. It was great to see how one author could elaborate on the previous chapters of other authors and write from their mind-field of imagination to bring about a completed novel.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

Actually when I first received the premise I snarled because of the unknown about Speakeasies and the Prohibition era but after researching (abundantly) I found it to be more interesting to attempt although it became my downfall because I became so interested in the research/resources that I struggled with time for writing my chapter. Every character sparked appeal with me whether they were positive or negative; they were well-written.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

My favorite addition was having the opportunity to begin telling Julia's story (begin her secrets) yet at the same time it was a challenge to search, divide, and conquer the many directions being explored that tangled in my head. My least favorite but achieved addition was writing in particular "Point of View" – since the novel is being written this year in the third person limited to Ronni's perspective.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

My hope is that Pete & Ronni fall in love in the most romantic way. Charles is literally, "kicked to the curb" and discovered to be the villain. Most of all I hope that the relationship between Julia & Ronni creates growth & increase in wisdom for Julia along with restoration from guilt on Julia's part somehow.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

Bursting all over the place is how I wrote this chapter. Outlines are challenges for me. Besides I enjoy letting my mind-field pop-up with variance which I'm allowed to do so without outlines.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

What will be memorable to me is the opportunity to co-write this chapter with my sister, Talisha Harden-Mallory who is a self-published author. I truly loved how we worked together to bring about this chapter. Because of my research, I had to incorporate her assistance. I read aloud the chapters prior in about 2 ½ – 3 hours while my sister and I wrote out our thoughts, which were many.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

Fiction is not always less challenging because it is creative writing. Although the writing is made up from your own imaginations you can come to some temporary critical stopping points to figure out your next step. I do love the battles in the mind of each character that steps forward and yells as if they want to be the center of attention...LOL!

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I started writing poetry at the age of 13. At age 15, my poem "Heartbroken" was published in a book after winning a contest. I then only wrote in my dairy and later journals about my life. They would be so detailed yet healing. It has been my dream to write and become a best-selling author since taking a creative writing class in early years of 2000 where I was informed by my instructor of my talent. I have made attempts at writing inspirational, spiritual/humorous, adventure, autobiographical/biographical, and dabbled in realistic fiction novel. In 2004 I then joined and attempted NaNoWriMo.org (50,000 words in 30 days) in 2005 where I have become a winner in 2011 & 2012.

  BlackRose Have you ever felt like you were born to accomplish at least one goal in your life...? Have you ever felt like life was taking you nowhere fast...? Well, I've felt that way time and time again but God blessed me with a gift and that gift was to create images with a pen. Some people do it on canvases, some do it with scrap metal but I have been blessed to do it by pen. I thank God for my gift daily. With my gift I have created masterpieces...*Deception*, *Deception: The Other Side*, *Lesbian: Come Walk With Me* and *Sextasies*. Now I bring to you a different side to things with *Thug's Intuition*. I enjoy writing because this is what I do best. I've even showcased some of my poetry in *The Poetic Lounge Volume 3* and just recently published *Looking For Love In All The Wrong Places* this one is brilliant I must say. *Friends Of A Feather* was released Dec. 25th of 2012. I spend all my leisure time either with my children and or spilling ink and when I'm not spilling ink I enjoy helping out family and friends. This is just a little something about me and if you wanna know more please visit my website at www.tmallory.webs.com.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

That answer is simple–I joined this year's Community Novel Project because my sister A.M. Coffee participated last year. It was fun working together, our first sister girl project.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

So, what is my writing background?So far I have published seven books under the BlackRose Presents: label. God is awesome if you ask me.

What do I usually write? That is a doozy because I started off writing poetry, of course, and then I slowly but surely moved on to short stories. Before you knew it, my friends and family were pushing me to complete a book. I had started years ago when I entered NaNoWriMo, I just never completed the book in those thirty days, so I sat on it. Some years later I pulled it out of the notebook and completed it. That was the first book I published. My genre is normally urban fiction but I also write erotica. One thing I learned how to do while writing that I found to be awesome and that was writing emotion.

How was this project different? This project for me was different in a way because I've never written anything as far back as the 1920's. With doing research and learning new things it was fun, plus I got to do it with my sister.

 Janet Jenkins Stotts got her MA in Curriculum and Instruction with emphasis in Teaching English as a Second Language from the University of Kansas. Until last year, most of her writing was work-related and included federal grant proposals and material published in the national GED Administrator's Training Manual. Thanks to TSCPL, she took part in the National Novel Writing Month last November and completed the 50,000 word challenge. She has since turned that novel into The Orchid Garden, a mystery based on the trip to China she made to assist in the adoption of her granddaughter, Ella. She hopes to have it published through Amazon print and Amazon kindle by the end of the summer. She and her husband live north of Topeka with five dogs, six goats and a goat that thinks it's a dog.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I had just completed the NaNoWriMo challenge and was looking for a reason to keep writing.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

The premise and characters give writers a lot of room to maneuver, to make changes and go in different directions. The premise has moved in a direction that is more appropriate to history than cultural anthropology because it is focusing on one woman and not her culture.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

I thought it gave a lot of background and depth to the character of Julia.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

My favorite is the cliff hanger at the end. My least favorite is all the groveling Ronni has to do.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I hope they continue to involve Ronni in meaningful and exciting ways, not just Julia.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

I wrote in several bursts; each followed by time to think and hope for inspiration.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

I learned that I am really all about strong female characters.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I have written small town news for small newspapers and articles for trade magazines. As an instructor, most of my writing is creating instructional materials. One lesson was included in the national training manual for GED examiners for a few years. The 2012 NaNoWriMo was my first foray into fiction.

When do you write? How many hours do you spend writing in a week?

I usually write in the morning after I have checked my online classes and done any necessary grading. I spend between 5 and 10 hours a week writing and/or editing fiction.

 Stacy Spilker has been making up stories since she was old enough to talk. As a child, she dreamed of becoming a published author, but became discouraged as a teenager. In college, she discovered she preferred editing as it appealed to her perfectionist nature. She earned an Associate degree in English, and joined NaNoWriMo in an attempt to fully understand the writing process (and to finally finish something) and fell back in love with telling stories. This is the first time she has allowed her fiction to be read by anyone else.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

Lissa seemed a little desperate, and I've never let anyone read my writing before, so it seemed like a safe way to start.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

I thought it was a fun idea and it had several directions it could go. It was my first attempt at writing contemporary fiction.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

I liked questioning whether or not Julia was telling the truth. It seemed like she was revealing too much to complete strangers and I questioned just why, exactly, would she be willing to do that. I was hoping to have Ronni and Julia talking by the end of the chapter, but it took too long to get there and I left it for the next author.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I want to see Julia be an actual character and not a plot device. She needs to be interviewed not constantly written out of the story.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

I began by outlining what had happened in the story and where it was going, but an inconsistency bothered me so much that I spent two weeks struggling with it before I wrote the entire chapter in one sitting.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

Besides taking two weeks to write three paragraphs only to churn out an entire new chapter in one evening? I was so close to the wire that I sent it off without any editing.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

I need to be more confident in my writing and more willing to share it with other people for feedback. I also need to stop editing my work to death and allow it to just be.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I usually write historical fiction and this was my first attempt at contemporary. It was also mainly dialogue which is something I usually struggle with.

 Marian Rakestraw is a relative newcomer to Topeka, having previously lived practically everywhere else. She joined NaNoWriMo and took up the isolating, nerve-fraying, confidence-rattling task of writing fiction as a fun way to meet new people. It worked wonderfully. She compulsively seeks education and has multiple academic degrees. Her husband is notably spectacular and together they have two charming children and a zaftig dog.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I joined NaNoWriMo for the first time last November and had a fabulous time, but after my novel was done I didn't let anyone read it. Zero people. Committing to writing a chapter for the Community Novel and knowing it would be published was a way to force myself to let other people read my work.

What do you like most about the premise and characters in this year's Community Novel Project?

I like that the setting of Julia's stories is right at the end of the Jazz Age when America was entering a dark time. That feeling of uncertainty suits her story. Julia is an intriguing character but it has been hard to get her to talk – she doesn't Speak Easy.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

Thrilled! It put the two characters I needed together and gave me the perfect opening for their conversation.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

After eight chapters a bunch of plot lines have emerged but authors haven't always had time to relate them to each other. My job was to tie them all together. To do that I had to let Ronni recap some events and reveal things to Julia that we, the readers, already knew. I worried about boring readers with too much backstory and repetition. My favorite addition is the method I picked for getting rid of Billy's body. I rejected several other plans as being too gruesome.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I hope Ronni and Pete get together. She is wound a little tight and I think his easy confidence would complement her. Since Julia's story is set in 1930 I would love to see the introduction of John R. Brinkley, the "Goat Gland Doctor", who ran for governor of Kansas that year. Just for fun.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

I tend to get the answers to plot problems when I am brushing my teeth or doing other mundane tasks. I also like visual cues. I spent a lot of time staring at pictures of an old scrap book on Etsy, Google Earth images of the Café Holliday (the site of Mike's Mirage), and watching film footage of the building of Topeka High on YouTube. If I stare long enough the story comes to me. I wrote the chapter in two sessions, everything up to Julia's story first and then the rest a day or two later.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

Nope, but I'm seriously considering taking up Elaine's habit of wrapping my head in a scarf and chanting "Swami Bawami" after 42,000 words. Sounds reasonable to me.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

Restraint. I tend to want to tell things right away – "Wow! You should hear what I did with Billy's body!" – but that doesn't always make the story fun to read.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I am new to fiction writing, last year's WriMo novel having been my first serious attempt. Is it wonderful or scary that the TSCPL would turn a chapter over to me? I am much more used to academic writing and can throw around words like "exegesis" and "hegemony" until readers beg for mercy. After years of writing nap-inducing doorstops it is fun to write for pleasure.

Are you crazy enough to do this again next year?

Yes.

 Diana Marsh spends her days as an administrative assistant with the State of Kansas, and her nights plotting the torment and agony of fictional characters. She has put the latter skill to use as a participant of National Novel Writing Month since 2003, an activity that has given her ten years of fun and five completed novels. If only that pesky first drafts from 2010 and 2012 would end.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I participated last year and thought it was such a fantastic, creatively energizing experience that I didn't have to even think twice about participating again. There's just something amazing about getting a group of people together, under the auspices of a shared project, a shared world, and seeing what they all do with the people that inhabit it.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

I am a tremendous history buff, and an avid researcher (I do it for fun!), so the idea of a story with a historical bent that allows me to put my yen for research and history to use? Is fantastic to me. The challenge, whenever you have characters with a past somewhat staked in the history of a specific time or location, is being as true to the real events and time period as possible while still maintaining the integrity of the characters and story.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

Joy, because Marian did such a fantastic job providing structure to the revelations that had come in the previous two chapters.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

I had to go with a jewelry heist angle as soon as Julia pulled out the ring Billy gave her. There was a fantastic jewelry heist in New York in the 70s that remains unsolved. I read about the case during a Criminology course at Washburn – the Pierre Hotel Robbery. I've been looking for a reason to play around with something like ever since and was just giddy at the chance. So I love the heist angle I brought in. I am maybe not as giddy about my thwarted car chase attempt, but Dennis more than makes up for my fumble there in Chapter 11.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I hope there are endless madcap adventures still to come for Ronni, Julia, and Pete, and I hope we find out that there is a spectacular, sinister side to Charles that plays directly into all of this. I also hope we find out more about Julia's sister, Rosie. There's more story there, I think!

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

When I write my own fiction, I am all about outlines and character profiles and pages of notes and grids and all manner of organizational tool. With both this chapter and with chapter two of last year's novel, my degree of preparation started with the previous authors' work, a review of the premise, and five notecards. I made a notecard for each of the principle characters, outlining what I knew about their story, their appearance, and their motivations. I used the last card to chart out any loose ends or interesting plot points I wanted to attend to/possibly nudge along. With those spread out in front of me, I tapped out "Chapter Ten" on an open Word document screen and set to work.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

Never to have too many preconceived notions about where a story will or should go. At the first meeting, when the story was discussed, the brief was for a slightly different tale than what I think we've come up with so far. And that's okay. You have to go where the story takes you and be willing to leave behind what you wanted it to be in favor of what it's chosen to become, because sometimes what it has chosen is amazing.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I typically write novel-length fiction and have a long-term infatuation with the mystery genre that has since bled into an affair with urban fantasy. This project was a return to my purer mystery days, and I was very glad for the change. Especially since I'm still plodding through one modern urban fantasy and an alternate history/steampunk novel that seem to be doing their best to drive me insane.

What one expectation did you have for this novel/story/experience/characters that was blown straight to hell?

I never expected Ronni to be revealed as anything but a simple, slightly nutty (as all grad students are) academic. That reveal threw all my thoughts on where I would take my chapter out the window!

 Dennis E. Smirl has been an Air Force officer, a salesman for a Fortune 500 company, a school psychologist, a computer science instructor at several community colleges, and a business owner. Married to his college sweetheart for almost half a century, he has spent time in Mexico, Japan, and South Vietnam, but prefers to take family vacations in the USA and Canada. A writer for as long as he can remember—he attempted a first novel at age ten—his first taste of national publication was a race report written and published in 1965. Beyond his interest in writing science fiction and mysteries, he has had a lifetime interest in horseback riding, auto racing (as a driver), golf, photography, computers and information processing. He has written nine novels and more than seventy short stories and novellas, and hopes to have all nine novels—and perhaps a couple more—available through Amazon print and Amazon Kindle within the next two years.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I was invited to do so, and considered the invitation an honor.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy?

I was particularly taken by the premise because my maternal grandparents had lived in Chicago during the Prohibition Era, and had seen and feared mob activities in real life.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

I thought it was well-written, very interesting, and saw a real opportunity for an action scene in my chapter that was foreshadowed in chapter 10.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

I can't really make that kind of judgment call this close to the experience. As me in a couple years.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I'd enjoy seeing the character I invented appear in the next chapter, but I tried to set my chapter up so that the next writer could use or not use him as he or she sees fit.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

I read earlier chapters, went out and mowed my lawn. In the time it took me, I had examined several story lines, and chose one. Then I came back into the house, sat down at my computer, and wrote the chapter.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

After considerable searching the Internet, I am convinced that there are only two Dennis Smirls in the English-speaking world. I live in Topeka, the other Dennis (Dennis P. Smirl) lives in Oregon. Both of us have books listed on Amazon. What are the odds?

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

Everyone has a different approach to the task. Some are fast, some are slow. Some write a single draft, self-edit, and call it good. Some will write, and re-write several times. I think each method is equally valid, depending on the writer.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I've been a writer most of my life. Once I retired, I had more time for it. I enjoy writing mysteries and science fiction. Just writing a chapter, rather than a short story or a novel, required a different type of writing discipline.

What is the greatest lesson you have learned about writing?

Write fast, write tight, and write lots of dialogue. Stories are propelled by the physical and verbal interactions of the characters, not by static descriptions of the scenery surrounding the characters... In other words, Show, don't Tell.

 Crystal K. Green enjoyed co-authoring Capital City Capers (the 2012 Community Novel) so much she volunteered to help create another unique local adventure in 2013. She loves to capture inspirational stories and reveal them through words and photos. Her life-long passion for writing takes her on many fictional journeys. Her appreciation of culture and languages motivates her to study German, S panish, and Russian (so far); host international students; and travel the world. She began actively participating in NaNoWriMo events in 2006, which has resulted in 9 novels and 3 scripts. She can be reached at crystalkgreen@gmail.com.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

In short: Because it's fun! I participated last year and wanted to do it again. I love to write and I like being part of a team and collective creative development. Participating again also offers a great opportunity to contribute toward improving the process for future Topeka novels as well as for any other community novelist groups that tap into the information we're publishing about our project. I'm glad I've been involved both years because the experience benefits my other writing.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

Along with many of my co-authors, the character of Julia intrigues me. Writing about a 108 year old character is a first for me. I like the balance of similarities and contrasts between Julia and Ronni. That provides a huge foundation for action as well as drama and inspiration. I think our premise is stronger this year than last year because it came from a larger collaborative effort of those involved in the project. In the midst of discussing the premise, I could already hear hints of the multiple story ideas formulating in people's minds so I'm fascinated to watch the story unfolding. I enjoy the characters better this year. They are more alive to me and I'm cheering for the ones I'd like to prevail. The steepest challenge remains the same: determining which character threads to pick up on and which to leave behind.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

I purposely waited to read any of the story until I had everything written prior to my chapter. Then I read it all in one sitting because I got caught up in the story. When I got to the end of chapter 11, I was disappointed that I couldn't just keep reading to find out what happened next. But I was also thrilled to have a solid story to build on with characters I had emotions about. It amazes me to see the nuances the various authors bring into their chapters. I learn a lot from reading their writing.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

I loved bringing a couple characters from background to foreground and assigning a couple characters names. I did this to mix things up as well as to advance some plot threads. I wanted to come up with a better ending but I was out of time and gumption by then so it is what it is.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I honestly wanted to know more about what happened to Julia's room after it was vandalized or robbed but the story didn't go in that direction during my own writing. Maybe we'll find out later. Maybe we won't. I also want to find out what happened to Rosie, who killed Billie, and what the connection between Charles and Julia is.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

In theory, I like to have a structure to base my writing on, not necessarily a detailed outline but a general structure. However, this doesn't usually happen in my fiction. For the community novel, I make notes about my questions as I read, think about what direction best advances the story, and then I just start writing. If I can get good dialogue and action rolling the story takes off. I try to answer at least one or two of my own questions and create a couple more unanswered ones for the next author to grapple with.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

After I stayed up all night writing my chapter for last year, I told myself the one thing I didn't want to do this year was that. Well, guess what? Yep, I stayed up all night again, except this time I finished around 4:30 a.m. instead of 6:00 or 7:00.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

I learned better what strong, three-dimensional characters look like. Character development hasn't been my strong suit but I discovered that the characters in my other writing aren't so far off the mark after all. I learned that for the stories that really matter to me, I'll create a better read for the audience by developing an underlying structure before I write. However, that structure doesn't have to be as elaborate or developed as I once thought to be a solid enough foundation from which to launch the story. I learned that I want to expand my vocabulary and keep honing my use of verbs during the editing process. I learned again that I can learn a lot just from reading other people's writing.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I usually write about real life in the form of personal letters, essays, inspirational literature and journaling. I also write fiction, focusing on science fiction, supernatural or fantasy. Most of my fiction writing the last several years occurs during Nanowrimo-related challenges throughout the year. I've written a couple movie scripts as well. One is the story of a stagecoach robber based on the true story of one of my ancestors from the 1800s. The other tells of a secret lab where mutant humans are created. I have a series of novels in progress, which I've been writing and editing since 2009, about a supernatural race called the Wisendren that I plan to publish.

I also help students (of all ages) with their writing homework from time to time. I particularly enjoy working with international students who need help with their English skills.

This project is different because more people actually get to read my writing. With other projects I'm working on, I don't have anything advanced enough beyond the initial draft yet to share with other readers except members of my small critique group. For the community novel, I have the privilege to swoop in, write my chapter, and be done. I'm not responsible for the outcome of the whole story and that is very freeing. My part of the project is shorter than a whole novel so editing takes less time and I can enjoy that sense of "finishing". It feels good!

 D. L. Rose has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pencil. The Community Novel Project is an exercise in writing without a plan, something she very rarely does otherwise. 30 Days of PreWriting, her ebook, is available on Amazon and her other writings can be found at maidenfine.com. When not writing, she is a homeschooling homemaker with two adorable minions and a cat. Photo by Morgan Chilson.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

The first reason is that I just love writing. Second, I specifically love collaborative writing. When it works, it can be so much more amazing than single-author writing. Third, I am a huge Lissa Staley fan and I'd pretty much support any project she came up with that could use a writer/editor/blogger/homeschooling mom. And fourth, I find that the publishing world is in an interesting place right now. It's still really hard for an author to get traditionally published. And even though it's easy to self-publish, it's also still hard to make a living doing that. I feel like this project is great experience for those considering self-publishing, and it's also very encouraging for those who are considering giving up because of how difficult things are in publishing right now. It provides a place to learn all the different parts of self-publishing. It provides a place for unpublished writers to get their name on the cover of a book. And it provides all of that with a nice support system to encourage and help through the trouble spots. Not to mention, after a few of them, I think Topeka will start to become a place known for its writers and art community that is so encouraging.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

I really liked that the premise this year was open-ended. It didn't even really set up a major conflict like the first year's did. Last year's premise had a built-in end point (the conference in LA) that then became difficult to work in after the process of writing led the plot to other places. This year was really just a starting point and some information about a couple characters and the major conflict was not directed from there. That's good and bad, since it also means that things can wander all over without something to pull back to. But I think we were given some very interesting characters and history to work with. I will say, I was somewhat nervous about the amount of research that I anticipated having to do. But by the time the novel made it to me, that ended up not being a problem.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

Both novels have had one chapter that ended with a mysterious envelope being opened. And I had hoped that I wouldn't be left with one of those, trying to figure out what was in the envelope. And then of course, I was. So I had a few moments of "Oh no. Now what am I going to do?" And then I thought of it like a word problem in a math class and I broke it down and thought through it and the answer pretty much came up with itself.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

Least favorite: The kidnapped mother. It seemed so exciting when I came up with it, but then I found that it was more difficult to write than I expected. A character being kidnapped is really exciting, if you get to write from that character's point of view. It is not so exciting if you're writing it from the view of someone who hasn't been kidnapped and is therefore mostly just waiting around for something to happen.  
Favorite: The phone at the end. I felt like my chapter was that space where things in a book get worse, but the characters don't know what to do next because they don't have enough information to go on. My hope is that the phone will lead the characters somewhere that will give them the information they need to tackle all the problems that have gotten jumbled together.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I answered some of that in the last question. But I also hope that Pete and Ronni at least make a plan for a future together. I don't need it to be all kissing and romance during the book. But I really hope that their connection continues and at the end of everything Pete will say "Well, now that we got all that taken care of, you want to go to a movie?" Or something like that. I also want things to turn out in a way that makes Julia thankful that Ronni came into her life.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

I am normally an outline person, but I outline at a larger level than a chapter. I usually have a general outline of a novel and then I let the smaller parts happen more organically. So I couldn't really outline for just a chapter. But I did think about my chapter for several days before I wrote anything. And I took lots of notes as I read the chapters before mine. I spent a lot of time making lists and little charts to come up with my thoughts on where things were headed.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

No matter how well-planned my chapter choice seemed when I made it in January, life had other plans. I ended up writing while moving. It was our longest, most ridiculously last minute and unplanned, disorganized move ever. So it was very difficult to get enough rest to think straight and then once my thoughts were straight to find my computer and enough time to get it all written.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

No two authors think alike. I think that's both the challenge and the beauty of collaborative writing. Two authors could look at the same premise and start it different ways. And each author would continue from what came before in a different way. It is definitely a practice in what it really means to let your writing stand on its own. If you have to explain to the next author what you were doing in your chapter, you probably weren't doing it right.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

When I was in elementary school, I wrote a little story that I showed to the school's librarian. She really encouraged me to keep writing and she helped me to illustrate it and write it really nicely. Then she published it in the school library. I didn't find out until years later that my brother had actually checked out my little book at one point. I think I was probably in second grade at the time. And there hasn't really been a time since then when I didn't feel like writing was something I was made for (even though I didn't contemplate it as a career until middle school). I normally write fantasy or light science fiction. I greatly enjoy taking normal people and just asking "What would (s)he do if they could see ghosts? Or fly? Or a werewolf was chasing them?"

 Rae Kary Staab participated in the community novel project last year and thoroughly enjoyed writing for it She has a B.S. in Geological Engineering and is a certified E.M.T. Rae stayed home to raise her family and now that they are grown she is looking forward to writing and working. She enjoys reading, rope spinning, and sewing. Rae and her husband live north of Topeka. Rae Kary Staab may be contacted at raekarystaab@yahoo.com

 Elizabeth Staab Van Deusen lived in Topeka as a small child and as a young adult, spending a year at Washburn University before transferring to Oral Roberts University and receiving a writing degree. She participated in and won her first two National Novel Writing Month events with the Topeka NaNoWriMo group, and she is particularly proud of having written her 2010 novel draft entirely on the Topeka area group dare–a red sock, which she lost on page one and spent 50,000 words finding again. Elizabeth is a substitute teacher and currently resides in Oklahoma with her husband and infant son. This is her first time co-writing with her mother.

 Romualdo R. Chavez is a graduate of Washburn University. He majored in Psychology and minored in Sociology. His love for the Urban Fantasy genre led him to write his debut novel El Vampiro and the Curse of the Feathered Serpent in 2009. Other works include various short stories. He has contributed chapters for the Topeka and Shawnee County Public Library's Community Novel projects: Capital City Capers (2012) and Speak Easy (2013). He has completed his second novel, tentatively titled The Mourning Sage, and is hard at work on the sequel to his first novel. Romualdo resides in Topeka, Kansas, where he is an active member of Kansas Writers Inc. and The Blackbirds Writing Group.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

When the project was first brought to my attention, I had no idea what to expect. I had never co-written a story, let alone an entire novel with other writers before. But the whole premise of last year's story intrigued me enough to take a risk, which I'm glad I did! I enjoyed the experience so much that it was a no-brainer for me to sign up again.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project?

I enjoyed the fact that the setting and characters originated in Topeka. It's great to be able to write about my home town and discuss Kansas History in the process. The characters were also intriguing. As a writer, I look for challenges when it comes to creating characters and the idea of writing about a 108 year old primary source was both interesting and a little intimidating. It was fun to be able to tackle Topeka's rich history and weave it through the story. The other characters presented their own challenges. I'm not used to writing about a female protagonist, so it was fun to be able to tackle both Julia and Ronni's characters. Charles, being one of the main antagonists, had evolved significantly throughout the course of the story thanks to great writers. When it was my turn to tackle the character, I tried to delve deeper into his narcissistic ways and show the reader how smart and dangerous he really could be.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

My first reaction to the previous chapter developed into more of a question: 'How do I top that?'

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

My favorite part about my chapter was being able to incorporate scenes within Mike's Mirage from Julia's point of view. It was a different direction altogether than previous chapters, but I felt it was necessary to truly deepen the character's likeability. Julia's very interesting and full of memories, so it was nice to explore those moments. I'm not sure what my least favorite addition would be. I truly liked everything that I did. My only qualm was not being able to make my chapter longer. I could have kept going!

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I hope to see more flashback sequences or perhaps further explanation of Billy the Bootleggers involvement in the Westfeld Heist.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

When it was my turn to tackle a chapter, I was a little nervous. There was so much going on in the story that I had no idea where to take it next. I re-read most of the chapters and took notes, trying to assess what questions needed to be answered. During the research phase, I started getting a vision of Julia on stage entertaining an audience with a song. From there it evolved into a dream/flashback sequence that was brought upon by the previous chapter's jazz performance. From there I was able to incorporate a scene between Julia and Ms. Banning that clearly shows the reader who the real villains of the story are. During that scene I was able to sprinkle bits of information about why they were so interested, leaving room for the next author to continue the story. At the end of chapter 14, Ronni, who's been through so much already, is put through the grinder once again and ends the scene with an unusual proposal. So I wanted to make sure I also had time to address that as well. In the end, I was quite proud of what I had accomplished and thought it gave new insight into the characters.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

A funny memory for me was looking back on my first suggestion of how I wanted to write the chapter. I think I might have given the coordinator of the Community Novel project a heart attack when I suggested killing off a major character. After all, my chapter was entitled The Darkest Hour, which needed to have something major happen. At the time it seemed like a good idea, but the final result worked out better than I could have expected.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

I learned to surrender to the story and see where it takes you. In order to create good fiction, you have to stop worrying about all the little details and just write. It's also a good way to hone in on your writing abilities and work collaboratively with other authors. Everyone has their own style and it's great to be able to see how different writers evolve the story.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I've always been an avid reader. I was the book nerd who enjoyed getting reading assignments, while everyone else cringed. This love for books carried over into my first attempts at writing short stories in middle school and high school. Several years later, my first novel, El Vampiro and the Cruse of the Feathered Serpent, was published in April 2009. The novel centered on three friends and their desperate attempts to fight off a coven of vampires. In September 2012, I participated in TSCPL's Community Novel Capital City Capers for the first time and enjoyed it, which is why I came back. During the initial waiting period to write my chapter this year, I managed to finish a second novel, tentatively titled The Mourning Sage, which I started in November 2011 with Nanowrimo.

I tend to write under the genre of Urban Fantasy, which is vastly different from the mystery genre that the Community Novel Project has evolved into. There are no vampires, werewolves, witches, or ghosts in the CN's world (at least not yet!). However, I didn't have any qualms with it. It was a great experience and taught me a lot about this genre and how it works. The research aspect was fun too. I was able to interview a family member familiar with Topeka's past and they gave me a lot of insight on the layout of speakeasy's and the people who frequented them.

Would you be interested in participating in the 2014 TSCPL Community Novel Project next year?

My answer to that would be—absolutely!

 B.R. Knight grew up in the Big Sky country of south eastern Montana and north central Wyoming. She loved telling stories even from an early age and completed her first short story at age 8 about milk stealing aliens invading local ranches. It's been a never-ending passion ever since. She attended Montana State University-Billings where she majored in English and Spanish education. She has published a Spanish-language short story entitled El espejo and a story collection called The Mistletoe Operation and Other Tales. She is currently working on an eight book series based on world mythology.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

Several of my friends from my writing group participated in last year's Project and had such a great time I wanted to try it. As a creative writing instructor, one of the students' favorite writing activities was the round robin, which is structured like the Project – one author begins the story and then it's passed around and each subsequent author adds to what has already been written. You never know where it's going to end up and the surprise of discovery is always one of the most exciting parts. It's also a challenge to have to deal with what's gone before and still stay true to the path the group has envisioned in the beginning.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

I was really drawn to the historical aspects of the premise and how it appeared as if most of the novel would revolve around Prohibition and women's roles. It's a period in history I haven't spent a great deal of time studying and reading about, so it gave me the excuse I needed to jump in to the research.

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

The chapter before mine was written by a former student of my creative writing classes who is now a member of my writing group and a good friend. I had great faith that what I was handed would leave me with a variety of options. With all the twists and turns in the first fourteen chapters I was getting really worried about what I would have to work with, but I was relieved to find a great cliff hanger at the end of the chapter. As soon as I read the last line I suddenly knew where I was going.

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

I think one of my favorite additions was fleshing out some of the characters from the previous chapters and bringing them back into the story line with a slightly different twist. The scene from a previous chapter where Pete's band mates were introduced kind of bounced around in my head and I kept thinking there needed to be something more to them, so I made Tyler and Ernest KBI agents. I also thought Hal needed to be connected to the present in some way, so it seemed natural to make him Pete's grandfather. I was a little dissatisfied with the way I handled the code word between Ronni and Uncle Dallas. After rereading that section I'm not sure it reads as clearly as I had hoped it would and that readers may think it's a continuity issue rather than a deliberate action by Ronni to communicate she needed help.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I really hope subsequent authors don't bring a live Hal into the story. The fact Julia is 108 is amazing, but I think it might stretch the bounds of believability if two characters from the past timeline suddenly crop up alive at such a ripe old age.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

I am partial to writing outlines, so I created about five possible outlines while waiting to be handed the chapter before mine. Of course, one of the reasons I wanted to work on this project was the spontaneity it engendered, so when it actually came time to write the chapter I found myself inspired by Chapter 15's final line and wrote my chapter in a burst of inspiration. I was amazed the actual first draft took me less than an hour to write from beginning to end.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experiences?

I have always loved telling stories as far back as I can remember. My mother would write them down for me before I learned to write well enough to start doing it myself. I remember my very first published story so clearly. I was so excited about it. It was a school project in 2nd grade. We were supposed to write a 1 page story about anything we wanted. Mine was ten pages long! I spent hours creating my storyline and illustrating it with crayons. I even created a cover for it out of pink construction paper. The story was about aliens who needed milk to survive, but for some unexplained reason had no cows of their own, so they came to earth each night and milked all the cows on local ranches to supply their needs. My teacher was so impressed she submitted it to a contest; it won, and was published. After that there was no stopping me.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

While writing is usually a solitary process there is a great deal to be said about sharing the actual writing process with others. I'm a consummate control freak, but during this project I had absolutely no control over what happened before the novel was passed to me. It was liberating while at the same time being more frustrating than I thought it would be. Every author's mind works in a different way and it was amazing to see how different authors processed the same information in such diverse ways.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I've already mentioned that I've been creating stories for as long as I can remember. I majored in English in college with a focus on British literature and creative writing. I usually write paranormal themed novel-length fiction with a touch of romance combined with suspense and mystery. I'm currently working on two projects. The first is an eight book series based on world mythology. I've completed rough drafts of the first two books and am getting ready to start book three. I am also working on an historical fiction novel, which started as a challenge thrown out by a good friend. I have been focusing on this all summer and have nearly completed the rough draft of that novel.

The community novel project was different in that I had little control over what I was going to end up working with where all my other projects are mine from the beginning. The genre was much different as well. Very little of my writing has ever taken place in a normal, present day setting.

 Sarah Langley, life-long lover of words, grew up finding rhyming words for every object she saw. She wrote numerous short stories, all of which were silly, but her young eyes saw them as masterpieces. Now she writes both poetry and novels because she loves the feel of a pen in her hand, the way a nib sinks into handmade paper, and because words (whether rhyming or not) are always stuck in her head like a favorite song. But most importantly, Sarah wants her writing to simplify the ideas of life and thereby inspire her readers to search out all the marvelous complexities and connections in life for themselves.

When not writing, Sarah dons her clown outfit and twists balloons so she can make children smile. She and her brother started their balloon-twisting business (Airheads) four years ago. But whether twisting balloons, helping children, or just living life, Sarah is always searching for inspiration to put those words in her head onto paper.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

Writing is a marvelous pursuit. And any opportunity for publishing is exciting!

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

It was important to me that our characters had moral intentions. I didn't want Julia and Billy the Bootlegger to end up being jewel thieves, especially in my chapter. It was a relief to get the chapter worked out so that they ended up having more honorable motives.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

With lots of help... LOTS of help. Lissa Staley could not be a better librarian. She not only made time to help with my plot outline, but she was also very supportive and reassuring. Dennis Smirl, a friend and author of a previous chapter, sorted out plot problems of the direst sort. When I called him up to ask for some help, his ideas were so instant and so perfect that I just had to laugh from joy (and relief.)

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

How intensely important an author's writing is to him. Although I only wrote one chapter, I suddenly realized how much the story affected me when I had one of the most interesting moments. Our neighborhood had a parade, and a jazz band performed in one of the yards. When I saw the band all getting in their van, I immediately wondered if that was the band Pete was part of. Of course, a second later, I felt silly for thinking that. But then I had that sudden shudder of delight that every writer gets when they know they've connected to their story and characters in a way that goes beyond any relationship with a living human.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I've been a writer all my life. I frequently find old papers with things I've written down throughout my short life... church sermon notes that were more like narratives, school notes that were more like inspirational quotes, and hundreds of poetry ideas. Writing poetry is one of my main hobbies, but I also love to write hand-written letters and journals (so far I've written over thirty!) One of my favorite projects is my Gratitude Journal, in which I write five or more things I'm thankful for at the end of each day. I hope one of the readers of this interview will try keeping a Gratitude Journal – it's even better than I could describe. As is true with any writing.

 Holly Mace grew up in a small town in Northeast Michigan, with the shores of Lake Huron literally in her backyard. She is a graduate of Central Michigan University where she majored in journalism. She was a staff writer for a newspaper for six years before moving to Topeka. She loves her Detroit Red Wings and her four-legged feline child, Toby. In her free time, in addition to writing, she enjoys photography, paper-crafting, being involved in various activities at her church and spending time with friends and family.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I read last year's novel and was interested in the concept. It reminded me of those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books from when I was a kid. Plus, when it comes to creative writing, I've never really put anything out there for anyone else to read. I decided this was a good first step.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

What I liked about the premise was that you could take different routes when writing. You could look at it from a historical angle if you're a history buff, or you could focus more on the present time if you were more comfortable with that. The challenge was that Ronni ended up being connected to multiple investigations/situations, and it was hard to determine which one to focus on. There was so much potential with all of them!

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

My first reaction was "What did I get myself into?" Every one of the authors before me really pulled you into the story with their writing. I was hoping I could do half as well as they did.

How did you write your chapter – in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

The day after I finished reading the chapter before mine, I started again from the very first chapter and listed every character and details that were revealed about them as the story progressed. When it came to the actual writing, I wanted to get Pete's side of things. I went to the library, listened to jazz and just started writing. A few hours later I had about 3,000 words. I was a little shocked. I was worried I wouldn't be able to come up with enough to say.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I majored in journalism in college and worked at a daily newspaper in Michigan, The Alpena News, for six years. While I did write feature stories on occasion, it was mostly news stories–school board meetings, city council meetings, criminal court proceedings, vehicle accidents, and so on. In news writing, you're limited to reporting the facts. In this project, you're only limited by the boundaries of your imagination.

 Paul Swearingen is a retired English/journalism/Spanish teacher who managed to survive 34+ years in public, private, and government schools. He also was a radio newsman and disk jockey, a newspaper editor and photographer, a personnel manager for a large retail store (now defunct), a long-time publisher of the National Radio Club's magazine, "DX News", and during a short, dark period was a telemarketer and sold cemetery lots. He lives in Topeka, Kansas, where his main current duty, besides writing, is to keep his garden under close control. Swearingen has e-published seven young adult novels via Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, and the usual e-book outlets.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I wanted to be a part of the joint community effort and to help out with editing as well as writing.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy? What challenges you about them?

The characters seem quite believable and at the same time vulnerable (except for the evil ones, of course, which are evil beyond evil).

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

Not so much a reaction, but I thought, "Wow. How am I going to be able to tie all this together?"

What is your favorite and least favorite addition that you contributed to this novel in your chapter?

Most favorite would be the fate of the jewels - both buried under Topeka High and palmed by Julia and Hal. Least favorite? Killing off Julia. Had to do it, though.

What do you hope happens or doesn't happen in the chapters that come after yours?

I hope the author doesn't have to close any gaping plot holes that I may have left?

How did you write your chapter - in a burst of inspiration or carefully outlined?

Both, sort of. I read through the entire novel, took notes, slept on it, and then in a burst of inspiration and confidence just started writing. A couple of hours later, I finished. And breathed a big sign of relief.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

Not about mine, in particular, but I was quite pleased to see how closely each author followed the previous author's plot line while still managing to toss in a few curves.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

To trust my instincts and not to over-analyze plot lines.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I have written ten YA novels, seven of which I have published (so far) as e-books, one of which I'm flogging around to agents, another which I'm letting "rest" for now, and another which I'm rewriting into first person, present tense – which is quite a challenge.

Has this experience convinced you never again to participate in a community novel project?

Heck, no! Bring on the next one!

 Lissa Staley served as the Project Manager for SpeakEasy, while everyone else did the hard work. She has written ten different first drafts as part of National Novel Writing Month, every November since 2003. The Community Novel Project is the most stressful and wonderful thing she has ever done, outside of parenting. In addition to serving as the NaNoWriMo Municipal Liaison for Topeka, she also works as a Book Evangelist and Librarian at the Topeka and Shawnee County Public Library. Contact her at estaley@tscpl.org.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

Technically I was the paid staff on this project. How awesome is my job? Working with writers in our community is one of my favorite things. I love bringing solitary writers together to learn from each other, giving people opportunities to shine, and creating something tangible to showcase their talents and efforts.

What do you like about the premise and characters of this year's Community Novel Project Speak Easy?

Taking Aimee's idea and working it through the first several chapters gave us a strong premise, but we knew that the real plot would develop in the middle chapters. It's hard to let go and give each writer space to create their own vision to advance the story. But it's worth it!

What was your first reaction when you saw the chapter before yours?

I panicked, trying to decide whether Julia was really dead, and what to do next. Paul had tied up most of the loose ends in Chapter 19 so that I could write a satisfying ending. And then he left me with a possibly dead main character! After several attempts to write a deathbed scene with Julia and Ronni and Pete talking, I decided that Julia has actually died in Chapter 19, and I focused on dealing with the consequences of that situation.

Any memorable stories to share about your writing experience?

When it came time to write, I struggled to immerse myself in the story, with the distractions of life and work and family. I had to intentionally create time and space to write, at the expense of everything else. I was reminded how crucial it is that efforts like NaNoWriMo or Community Novel Project give writers the purpose and the deadline to devote some of their precious time to writing. As I tried to wrap up the whole novel in Chapter 20, I asked everyone who had contributed to writing or editing for their ideas on a satisfying ending, including my Nana, Zennie Herring. The Epilogue in particular became a multi-author work, with Miranda contributing the perfect closing paragraphs to our novel.

What have you learned about writing fiction from participating in this project?

Whether it is a single-author work or a community novel, each chapter has a specific function in the broader story. While I am not usually big on outlining in advance, I acknowledge that sticking to a broad plot outline like the one we used in this project will help me to better structure my own novels in the future. Serving as project manager has given me invaluable experience on the interactions between writers and editors and publishers. Each has their role to play, and I hope that the library can continue to help writers find resources and connections to support their own projects.

What is your writing background? What do you usually write? How was this project different?

I've been writing first drafts of novels for Nanowrimo each November since 2003, but for me the joy is in the creating and I rarely reread and never revise what I've written. Each November, I try to write something new and different. I always want to experiment with a new genre or technique. And then I end up writing a romance. The editing and publishing aspects of this project are the most challenging for me, and I was grateful for those who collaborated on editing.

 Sandi Sauvage decided to be a teacher when she was seven years old. After graduating from Lawrence High School and the University of Kansas, she began teaching elementary school in 1971. In 2011, she retired. She spent thirty years in Onaga, KS, (with a t hree-year break to have three babies) and shorter stints in Blue Mound, Circleville, Berryton, and Peace Corps in Jordan. Now she reads and knits when she is not babysitting or hanging out with her six grandchildren. They always know what Grandma will get them for birthdays and Christmas – a book.

Why did you want to participate in the Community Novel Project?

I agreed to narrate because reading aloud was what I missed most about retirement from teaching. This time I had no wiggly audience to keep engaged with Winnie the Pooh or Harry Potter. I had never read a serial, waiting weeks to see what happens. It was fun.

  Shamecha Simms enjoys the freedom to experience and learn new things about life and herself.

 Ginger Park holds a bachelor's degree in communication studies from Washburn University and a master's degree in mass communications from Kansas State University. She has more than 15 years of experience in public relations in the Topeka area. Ginger is a big sister for Big Brothers Big Sisters of Topeka, immediate past president of Capital City NOW and is a member of the League of Women Voters of Topeka and Shawnee County. She lives in Topeka with her husband and three dogs.

PAST AND FUTURE PROJECTS

Are you intrigued?

A community novel is one that is collaboratively conceptualized, written, illustrated, narrated, edited and published by members of your community. The library invites writers to each contribute a chapter to advance the group's story. Community members willing to serve in roles as editors, narrators, graphic artists, marketing publicists, web publishers, ebook publishers and manuscript preparers are also welcome. Contact Lissa Staley at estaley@tscpl.org to express interest in future projects.

Start your own community novel

Want to do this in your community? We'll share our planning resources and experience to help you get started. Contact Lissa Staley at estaley@tscpl.org.

2013 Community Novel Project - SpeakEasy

Download the ebook or audiobook

Read the serialized manuscript online

2012 Community Novel Project – Capital City Capers

Read the serialized manuscript online

www.tscpl.org/community-novel

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