The Last Government Girl. Ellen Herbert

      “Turn off that durn light.” Pearl rolled across the bed and back to sleep.

      Eddie, in the smart beige suit she’d bought at Margolis Department Store, fixed her hair and makeup in front of the dressing table mirror.

      Rachel returned, dressed in a similar suit of navy gabardine, and put her hair in victory rolls. All the while she called to Pearl. She went to the bed and shook her. “Get up, Pearl. We need to catch the streetcar in half an hour.”

      Pearl pushed up against the headboard, the sheet held to her chest. “I need to tell ya’ll something.” She looked from Rachel to Eddie, her eyes shiny with tears. “I don’t have a job yet. But I’m fixing to get one today. I swear.”

      Rachel shot Eddie a look of apology then rounded on Pearl. “Why did you lie to us?”

      “Sorry, Rachel. More than anything, I want to be a government girl like you and Eddie.” Pearl snuffled. “See I run away from Saltville after Uncle Alton give my baby Billy to his married daughter who lives in Chilhowie.” Pearl covered her face and sobbed.

      She was good at turning on the waterworks, Eddie thought and regretted being hard-heartedness, but she would always be a skeptic.

      “You poor thing.” Rachel stroked her hair. “But Eddie and I have to go now or we’ll be late.” Rachel faced the mirror and applied lipstick.

      Eddie stuck a hatpin in the crown of her picture hat. Like proper young ladies, they were back in hats and short white cotton gloves for their first day.

      “Before ya’ll go, I need to ask a favor.” Pearl spoke in a calm voice, no more tears.

      They turned, impatient to leave.

      “Don’t tell anybody I’m here in Washington. If Uncle Alton finds out where I am, he’ll come hurt me bad.”

      “Why would he do that?” Rachel said.

      Pearl’s hand slid under her pillow and touched what was hidden there. “Because he’s the meanest bootlegger there is.”

      “That’s why you had the shade down on the train, isn’t it?” Eddie said. “You didn’t want anyone to see you leave Saltville.”

      Pearl gave her Cheshire cat grin.

      “I’m going to grab us some toast to eat on the way to the streetcar stop.” Rachel waved to Pearl and went downstairs.

      Holding the door handle, Eddie said, “I assure you, Pearl, someone at the depot saw you. You can’t keep a secret in Saltville. Your uncle will find out where you are.” With that she shut the door.

      What a mistake she had made insisting Pearl stay on Georgia Avenue. She had invited achtung, danger.

      “I’m not hungry,” she told Rachel downstairs.

      The knot in her stomach remained as she and Rachel crowded onto the streetcar. They made their way down the aisle and held onto straps that hung from the ceiling, crammed in with other government girls. Rachel was talking, but it was as if she was speaking underwater. Eddie heard only the roar of fear rising inside.

      She had wanted to leave Saltville behind, but instead she brought the worst of it with her, its lawlessness, its violence.

      She resolved to make Pearl move out this afternoon. She would help Pearl find somewhere else to live. Aunt Viola had been right. Better not get involved with bootleggers or their kin. Pearl had stolen a fortune from her uncle. He would come for his money and would hurt anyone in his way, including all those who lived with Pearl on Georgia Avenue. Achtung.

      Eddie bent to watch Washington slide past the streetcar’s windows, but her mind traveled three hundred miles southwest to Saltville, certain this city wasn’t far enough away from the evil reach of Alton Ballou.

      9

      Tuesday, June 6, 1944

      Washington, D.C.

      Vernon slipped down in the steamy water. What a luxury to take a bath anytime he wanted, even before five in the morning. And he needed a bath to wash away his dream of Doris. Every night she came to him, begging him to help her. But she was dead. What could he do about that?

      His Doris dreams were the only fly in the buttermilk his life had become.

      Even though his reflection was distorted in the shiny faucet, he could make out his wide pie-eating grin. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was staying on the top floor of a beautiful row house for free, and all because of the rain. Rain had pelted Washington since he arrived Friday night. May it rain and rain.

      When he showed up on G Street at District Construction Saturday morning, Red told him they had enough roofers for the tempos on the Mall right now.

      “Don’t give me that hangdog look, Vernon. I got a special friend whose roof is leaking. You’ll thank me for this one.” Red winked and handed him the address of a widow woman on 14th Street.

      Mrs. Frazier turned out to be a wasp-waisted buxom blonde, who opened the front door in a flowered dressing gown that wasn’t closed completely. Vernon feasted his eyes on her in the spacious foyer.

      “Most of our pots and pans are set out in the attic to collect leaks, Mr. Lanier.” She spoke in a honeyed Southern drawl. “But, I’m afraid the rain is winning this war.” She pressed her palm to his chest, sending a quiver through his body. “Please say you can help me.”

      Vernon strapped on his tool belt and went out an attic window onto Mrs. Frazier’s mansard roof. Even in rain, he loved walking a roof and looking over the city. He felt at home in the sky.

      A few tugs of his hammer’s claw, and he found the problem. He ended up sending Jeremiah, the elderly colored man who worked for Mrs. Frazier, to the hardware store for boards, while he got to work taking up the rotten ones.

      “You poor man,” Mrs. Frazier said to him at nightfall. She’d come up to the attic with a mug of tea for him. She and Vernon sat on wooden boxes and faced each other. Around them, rain pinged in pots and buckets.

      He accepted the tea and told her the extent of the damages. “It’s a big job, Ma’am.” Okay, he was exaggerating. It would be tough for a lone man, not that he wanted another roofer’s help here. “But I’ll get her done for you.” Holding his mug in his palm, he lifted the warm liquid to his lips and gulped. No sipping for him. Nothing ever tasted so sweet.

      “That’s great news, Vernon. Why don’t you just stay here?” she said. “I’ve got plenty of room on the third floor, and after the roof is fixed, there are lots of little jobs like doors that stick and kitchen cabinets that need painting. Jeremiah’s a dear, but he’s not handy like you.”

      Vernon didn’t need convincing. He almost ran to his boarding house in Georgetown to pick up the feed sack stuffed with his things and tell his landlady he wouldn’t be returning.

      Only on his way back, he remembered the silver captain’s bars, which he’d wrapped in a cloth scrap and tucked in the bottom of the sack. Thoughts of that pin made his load heavier. He carried the murdered girl’s memory wherever he went. Go away, Doris. Leave me please.

      Someone knocked at the bathroom door. Vernon stirred in the water.

      The door creaked open. “Hope you don’t mind, Vernon, but I thought you might like some lavender shampoo.” Mrs. Frazier entered, wearing that same dressing gown, barely closed now.

      Vernon drew his knees to his chest. She could see him naked through the water.

      “Oh relax, Vernon.” Her hands pressed on his shoulders. “Would you like for me to wash your hair?” Her voice came from behind him.

      “Yes, Ma’am. I’d appreciate it.” He sunk into the water and stretched his legs. Let her see what she’d done to him.

      She giggled, got a towel, positioned it on the floor behind his head, and knelt. Her fingers massaged his