“The bulls are outside!” Alice shouted.
“Bulls?” Shirley asked. “Cattle? A stampede?”
“No! Police!” Alice shouted. “We have to run or be arrested!”
Shirley’s heart leaped into her throat. There were too many people to run. To get anywhere.
Alice grabbed her arm. “This way!”
Walter grabbed her other arm. “No! This way.”
“Only the customers can go out through the kitchen,” Alice said. “We have to go out through the back and get upstairs before the bulls see us.”
“No,” Walter said. “We have to go this way.”
“No! The bulls gotta arrest someone!” Alice shouted. “That will be anyone dressed like us going that way!”
Shirley felt as if she was being torn in two with the way they each tugged on her arm.
“Trust me,” Walter said. “This way.”
Shirley couldn’t say why, but she pulled her arm out of Alice’s hold and then grabbed the woman’s hand. “This way!”
“Hurry,” Walter said, pulling her forward.
“We are hurrying,” she said, pulling Alice behind her. “We just ain’t getting nowhere!”
“We will!”
She hoped he was right. For all their sakes.
The next thing she knew, they were in the men’s restroom. Others were in there, too, rushing through another door on the far wall. Walter hurried them through that door, then up a flight of stairs that led outside. To the side of the building.
“Rosie!” he shouted. “Take these two with you!”
The woman in the red-and-white polka-dot dress was climbing in a car, and waved frantically at them. “Hurry! Hurry!”
Sirens filled the air. Walter pushed her forward. “Go. Run.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Come on, Shirley! Run,” Alice said, pulling her toward the car. “Run.”
Shirley ran, and as she climbed in the car, she twisted, scanning the crowd. He was gone. Gone. She sat down, and was shutting the door, while still searching the crowd, when she noticed Rita, who was a foot taller than even some of the men, running out of the door along with others.
“Rita!” Shirley shouted out the window. “Here!”
As Rita elbowed her way through the crowd and ran toward them, Shirley told the redheaded woman, “We can’t leave her behind. Just can’t.”
Rita climbed in the back seat with her and Alice and then the redheaded woman leaped in the front seat and closed the door. The driver, another woman, shouted, “Duck down. Don’t let anyone see you. All of you!”
They all complied, bending over and putting their head between their knees. The sirens were louder and the shine of flashing red lights filled the car as they drove away.
* * *
Walter watched the car drive away. That hadn’t been part of his plan. Running into Rosie, a waitress from Julia’s café, had been pure luck, and something that had worked out perfectly.
He walked to his car and climbed in, waiting as the police barreled down on the Cartwright building. The raid wasn’t for the speakeasy; it was for the secretive opium room on the third floor. He’d heard rumors about that room, and had spent some time investigating it this morning, learning they weren’t just rumors. This afternoon, he’d contacted a city council member. One he knew disliked the drug dens as much as he did.
Busts of joints like that happened daily. Speakeasies were overlooked for the most part, unless someone got riled or annoyed, someone with power. But very few agreed with the operating of opium dens. Other than those who were operating them, and those they dragged down into the bowels of hell with them.
Anger filled him, came from nowhere, as it did sometimes. Lucy had been dragged down into that world. Where very little mattered other than the next high. It’s what had killed her in the end.
He glanced at the building again, at the police cars with red lights flashing. Whether Blondie appreciated it or not, he wasn’t going to let what happened to Lucy happen to her.
He’d investigated her, too, earlier, learned her name was Shirley, but he still thought of her as Blondie. His plan had been to be at CB’s when the raid happened and pull her aside. Show her the dangers she was in by working in the basement and then convince her to get on the next train heading east.
That would happen—he’d get her on a train—but sending her home with Rosie was better than what he’d planned. Mainly because it meant he hadn’t had to haul her out of the basement kicking and screaming. He’d have done that. Carried her out. Had considered it when the first siren went off, before they’d gotten shoved up against the wall.
Walter took a deep breath, a struggle because his chest was growing tight again, like it had when he’d been pressed up against her. He hadn’t been that close to a woman in a long time, hadn’t wanted to kiss—
He spun around, gave his head a clearing, cleansing shake.
The crowd had dispersed; the customers who’d been at CB’s had driven or walked away without so much as a glance from any of the officers. The police cars were still there, lights flashing. He doubted the real people behind the opium den on the third floor would be arrested. Those there, smoking, hooked on the euphoric effects that made them forget their real lives, would have their wrists slapped, and by this time next week, they’d have already found another place. He’d seen it often enough and wished it was different. Wished he could have done something, anything, that might have saved Lucy.
She hadn’t wanted to be saved, just like she hadn’t wanted him in her life. Blondie didn’t, either, but this time he was going to fight harder. Maybe, just maybe, if he could save her, the demons of regret that lived inside him would go find someone else to haunt.
Demons. He had enough of them. Not only from Lucy, but from Theodore. There, too, he hadn’t done enough. Hadn’t acted quickly enough.
That wasn’t going to happen this time.
He started his car and pulled into the street, wondering if he should drive out to Julia’s Diner, make sure that was where Blondie was at, but instantly knew that would be a bad idea. He’d be better off going there tomorrow morning, after she’d had a chance to get to know a couple of good people. So far, she’d only met the bad Los Angeles had to offer. There were good folks here, too. Julia Shaw was one of them. She’d taken in plenty of women who had arrived in town with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and stars in their eyes. She’d fed them, clothed them, given them a job and a place to live, and then, once they’d gotten their heads on straight, she’d let them go back out into the world. No longer wearing rose-colored glasses.
Years ago, Julia had come to him, asked him to look into how the Broadbent brothers had paid little more than pennies on the dollar for her family’s property. The transaction hadn’t been illegal, so all he’d been able to do was secure the last twenty acres for her.
Julia had understood, and held on to her small chunk of land with an iron fist. She was making it pay off for her. Her café was one of the most popular places to eat in the north end of the city.
He drove home, and after parking the car in the garage and closing the door, he walked into the dark and quiet house.
Mrs. McCaffrey had long ago gone to bed.
Once again, his long-lost dream of having a family fill the house