Chapter Nine Susie #2
My wire to Sam... I sent it about an hour ago. Who knows how long it’ll be before he gets it? The professor’s place sounds pretty isolated, and Sam mentioned he goes into town each day to the post office. What if he doesn’t go until noon? Or this evening?
“It’ll just be a minute, but it looks like Captain Silverman won’t be back until the end of the month!” I call out cheerfully, filling the pot while my heart pounds and my palms feel wet. “Where did you meet Sam?”
“France.”
“Oh! France! Have you ever been to Paris? I’ve always wanted to see it. They say it’s a romantic place, the most romantic in the world, right after Niagara Falls,” I babble. Secretaries aren’t supposed to make idle chit-chat. We’re supposed to make efficient, polite small talk, only when required.
I’m pulling the gift of gab that worked with Tilly, and letting it loose.
“Paris is very beautiful.”
“And those French girls! What I wouldn’t give to be a French mademoiselle,” I laugh, moving to Sam’s office and silently shutting the door.
“Let me get the key to the filing cabinet, Lt. Wayne, then we can lock those papers up nice and tight. They must be pretty special if you had to hand-deliver them.”
As I speak, I open Sam’s desk drawers, remembering what he told me about his nights of insomnia, and all the sleeping pills he had at his house.
He mentioned sleeping at the office, too.
It just makes me wonder... Are there any tablets in the office, too?
If so, Conrad Wayne is going to take a little nap.
Sure enough, there are bottles of tablets. Two big knives with fancy blades that shine brighter than steel.
Silver. Sam and his silver. It’s everywhere. In fact—a glint of brightness catches my eye from the closet in Sam’s office. We were in such a hurry to leave on Tuesday night that he left it open a little, I guess.
I know this isn’t the time, but I can’t resist. I shake out a few pills into my hand and close the drawer softly. Then, I peek into the closet, and swallow down a sharp gasp.
This place is lined with silver chains and symbols, too, but it’s the claw marks in the floor and the huge amount of thick brown fur that startles me. The blanket. No pillow. Like someone spread an old blanket on the floor to keep a dog a bit more comfortable.
But the fur is the identical shade of brown-black that matches Sam’s hair. But it isn’t his. It’s longer and thicker. Not even dogs would have fur this thick, would they? Not any dog I’ve ever seen.
“Can’t you find the key?” Wayne shouts out suddenly.
“Oh, yes, I remember!” I call back, shutting the door softly, mind spinning. “I think I know where it is!”
It’s on my desk, in my drawer, but I’ll have to pretend. I hurry back to Sam’s desk and open a second drawer and slam it open and shut to back up my story.
But not before I see three bullets made of silver, and some scribbled notes and a drawing. I don’t have time to read them, but I know the shape I just saw.
Werewolf.
“Found it,” I call, and swallow hard. “Cream and sugar?” I ask, bustling back into the main office, praying he says yes.
“Yes, thank you,” he answers impatiently.
I push the pot into place and pour in the pre-ground beans, not caring if they’re stale from a week ago.
I slip the tablets into the bottom of a cup, pour in a few spoonfuls of sugar, and crush the pills under the guise of patting it down.
“Oh, dear. I don’t have cream, as I’ve been out of town, too.
I can run down and get some from the bakery, just a—”
Conrad Wayne blocks my path. “I need to get these papers put away, Miss Spade. They were obtained at great risk.”
“My, that sounds exciting,” I say, fluttering my lashes, and wishing the coffee would perk at lightning speeds. “Let’s get those under lock and key—oh, and I have some receipts to file, too.” I give him a bright smile and open my own drawer, fishing out the right key under the cover of paper.
The file Wayne hands me is sealed with red tape and stamped with some official-looking insignia, but the words aren’t in English. The ink has been smudged, on purpose, I’d bet, but that doesn’t mean that any bookworm like me couldn’t tell the pattern of the smeary letters isn’t an English word.
I quickly lock it away, noting that the thick brown envelope feels thin and flimsy, even with its official appearance. Probably empty. All of this was just a ruse to get in this office.
To get what?
Or who?
And how did he know my name? I don’t believe I introduced myself... If he’s an army buddy of Sam’s and spoke to him, Sam might have mentioned my name. But this man couldn’t have served with Sam unless they were recruiting schoolboys!
I don’t know, but I know what works on the bad guys in the books. “Why don’t you tell me all about your adventures in France, Lieutenant?” I murmur in my most husky voice. “I’d love to hear about them while we wait for things to heat up.” I wink. “I mean the coffee, of course.”
The surprised, then angry look reappears on Wayne’s face, and it sticks this time. “Aren’t you a particular friend of Mr. Silverman’s?”
“Who gave you that idea?”
Another look of surprise, and he tips his head back. Sniffs.
Like a dog.
Animal. Wolf? Why am I seeing wolves everywhere?
Cold fear runs down my back.
“Anyone would think it who sees you two together.”
“Well, who wouldn’t see us together?” I titter like an empty-headed ditz. “We work in the same office.”
“You don’t have to drive with him late at night to fulfill your duties, do you? Or is that part of being an American secretary?” he asks with obvious disdain, an accent (and an attitude) emerging that’s clearly not American.
“You’d be surprised what girls in this profession get up to,” I grin, pouring the coffee as it finally bubbles to a steaming halt. “Here, Lieutenant, have a seat and a nice hot cuppa. Unless I can get you something else to warm you up?”
Wayne all but yanks the coffee from my hand, and he stares at me, nostrils so wide they’re going white at the edges. His shoulders heave. “I didn’t think it was possible to behave so,” he hisses.
“I guess you think I’m pretty outspoken?
I’m sorry, I’m not one of those good old-fashioned girls who wait around when something better comes along, like a big, strapping Adonis like you,” I purr, perching on my desk, legs crossed so that my skirt rides up over my knee.
I lean back, my hand on the fancy silver letter opener that came with the job, along with my pens, inkwell, and typewriter.
“You’re his mate. You haven’t even been properly marked, and I can smell it on you. I knew human women could be faithless, even the ones you think are so holy, so pure. Mothers.” He spits.
I blink, desperately confused. “Beg pardon?”
“Silverman’s scent already surrounds you.”
“Well, we are in his office, and he is a little liberal with the bay rum. He puts it on his hair.”
And the fur in the closet. Oh my God.
In a blinding flash, I realize that the closet smelled of bay rum, but not just because Sam was in that office a week ago. The piles of fur. The bay rum smell... Could it be coming from them?
Because...
My mind won’t make the final, impossible leap.
“Wolves mate for life. It was obvious he chose you. Obvious he would come to save you, and leave Llwellyn alone, if his mate was at risk. And yet, here you are... A faithless female, throwing yourself at me,” Conrad snarls, paces, and stares at me as if I’ve personally slaughtered his dog.
Wolves. Mate. “I don’t know what nonsense you’re spouting, but you’d better sit down and finish your coffee, or I’ll scream.
The boys in the bakery will be up here in seconds with rolling pins and loaf pans.
If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a hot sheet tray, you’ll know enough to sip your coffee and cool down,” I snap, hands on hips, sitting up straight.
Conrad seems to realize he’s said too much, and hastily drains his coffee, composing himself. “My apologies. The strain of duty.”