The Last Government Girl. Ellen Herbert

Home on 16th Street. His dream was to get his funeral director license. Their grandfather had been an embalmer, so funerals were in their blood.

      Eddie noticed that Bert’s ankles looked swollen. She guessed this was from his hemophilia, not that he complained. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I hope you don’t have to work tonight.”

      “’Afraid, so, Cuz. Got to grab a sandwich before I head out.” He turned his gaze to the street. “Uh-oh, here comes trouble.”

      Pearl approached their gate, a large shopping bag in each hand.

      Pearl had promised to move out as soon as she got a job. The problem was she couldn’t get hired, even in Washington where employers were desperate for workers.

      “See you later, Eddie.” Bert went inside. He had avoided Pearl ever since she went to his room late one night and offered to rub his back. Shocked at how forward she was, he sent her away and told Eddie about it.

      Eddie went down the sidewalk and helped Pearl with her bags. What had she bought now? Pearl so enjoyed having money for the first time in her life.

      “Rachel introduced me to her date, Thad.” Pearl said. “He’s a real dreamboat.”

      “Uh-huh.” Eddie held the door. “How’s your job-hunting?”

      Tonight Eddie was going to give Pearl an ultimatum. Pearl either moved out or Eddie would tell Bert about the stolen money. He had a right to know since the money threatened everyone living here.

      “I got real good news, Eddie.” Pearl winked.

      Eddie didn’t get her hopes up. Pearl kept telling them she was close to getting hired at different government agencies, but when Eddie went through Pearl’s dresser drawer, she found copies of failed tests for typing, record-keeping, even filing. How could Pearl not know the alphabet?

      Okay, so Eddie was a snoop, but she had to be with Pearl, who seldom told the truth.

      Aunt Viola turned down the radio. “Hey, Pearl girl. Come in and show me what you bought.”

      As Pearl had transformed from ragged hillbilly to city girl with plenty of money, Aunt Viola had warmed to her. Eddie enjoyed observing people do an about-face, as her aunt had done about Pearl. Yet why didn’t Aunt Viola or Rachel wonder where Pearl’s money came from?

      Pearl went in the parlor and took out a cotton dress from a Hecht Company bag. “Rachel showed me colors partial to redheads like me. This here’s peach.”

      Yes, Pearl was a quick learner when it came to fashion and makeup. Rachel had an unerring sense of color and style, which she taught to Pearl and Eddie.

      Eddie sat at the telephone table and listened to Aunt Viola rhapsodize about the dress. Her aunt was such a faulpelz. She did nothing all day, except listen to radio soap operas, keeping the radio’s volume high to hear over the fan’s whir.

      Ruth trudged downstairs in her housekeeper’s apron, her forehead bunched. When she saw Eddie, her mask of indifference dropped, and she whispered, “Tomorrow.”

      “You’re ready.” Eddie squeezed Ruth’s hand before Ruth went down the hall to the kitchen.

      Last week Eddie ran into Ruth at the Mt. Pleasant Library, where Ruth had not been friendly. Why should she be? Ever since Ruth graduated from high school last year, she’d worked for Aunt Viola, which would turn anyone sour.

      After Eddie discovered Ruth was studying for the Civil Service test, Eddie found books for her. Since then, she and Ruth had met at the library to go over sample tests. Intelligent Ruth deserved better than cleaning and cooking here six days a week.

      In the parlor, Aunt Viola told Pearl, “Model it for me later, honey, once Bachelor’s Children is over.”

      Eddie helped take Pearl’s bags upstairs. Once she closed the door behind them, she said, “Pearl, you promised to move out as soon as you found a job, but…”

      “You hit the nail on the head.” Pearl perched on the dressing table’s bench. “I’m about to get hired as a switchboard operator trainee for the War Department.”

      Eddie sat on her bed, her back against the wall and studied Pearl’s watery blue eyes that looked straight at Eddie. She had read that when people tell a lie their gazes shift, which must be where the adjective shifty came from.

      But at the moment Pearl held Eddie’s gaze.

      “So you’ll be working at the Pentagon?” The Pentagon was in Virginia, which would make a great excuse for Pearl to move out in order to live closer to her job.

      “Not so fast. To get the job, I need your help.” She sauntered over to Eddie. “Since you was my high school English teacher, I put your name and our telephone number on the paper. You have to give me a real good reference.”

      Eddie scooted forward on the bed. “But you got Ds in my class before you dropped out. How can I give you a good reference?”

      “You want me to move out, don’t you?” Pearl grabbed the scarf around Eddie’s neck and yanked her forward. “I’m not going anywhere unless you…”

      Eddie shoved Pearl back and stood. “How dare you threaten me.” If Pearl had been a man instead of a pipsqueak woman, she might have been as violent as her uncle.

      “Sorry Eddie.” Pearl reached up and straightened Eddie’s scarf.

      “Don’t touch me.” Eddie swatted her hands away.

      Pearl said, “I want to be a government girl so bad…”

      So bad she refused to apply for jobs that weren’t with the government, which Eddie had suggested. Pearl said she hadn’t come all the way to Washington to work just anywhere.

      Downstairs the telephone rang.

      “That’s probably Mrs. Shelton, the switchboard supervisor. She told me she’d call around seven. Pretty please, Eddie. Give me a good reference.”

      Eddie went down the steps, not sure what she would say. She hated to lie, but Pearl needed to leave Georgia Avenue. Still, she had never believed the ends justified the means.

      She picked up the receiver, listened to the voice, and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. You must have the wrong number.” She set the receiver back in its cradle.

      “That was quick,” Pearl said when Eddie returned to the room. “What did you tell her?”

      “That wasn’t your supervisor, Pearl. That was a man with a mountain accent, who asked for you, Pearl Ballou.”

      12

      “Drink, please.” Jess nodded to the glass of water on the small table in front of this mountain of a man.

      He straightened in the chair, lifted the glass in big calloused hands, a working man’s hands, and sipped. His coarse hair streaked with gray was combed straight back from his forehead, and he was deeply tanned from working outside. A wedding band width of pale skin encircled his ring finger. Why he had stopped wearing his ring?

      Wafting from him was the smell of sweat and lavender, huge purple fields of it. Not that it was easy to smell anything in here with the sink area cordoned off for Alonso’s dark room. The almond-like smell from the potassium cyanide’s fixing bath permeated. Jess had become so used to the smell, it barely registered.

      “What happened to me?” the man asked Jess, who sat opposite.

      “Fainted. Keep your eyes straight ahead, so you don’t do it again.”

      Jess hated for him to see their case map, but they couldn’t take him to their bungalow, it being so close to the house. “What’s your name, and why were you following us?”

      “Vernon, Vernon Lanier.” Vernon crossed one leg over the other, hunched, and brought his hands to the back of his head as if to protect it. He showed them his ID card from District