Songbird Under a German Moon (20 page)

“I really don't know her, Betty. I can't say where she'd go.”

Betty pulled back from his grasp and turned her back to him. “I just can't think of a good explanation.”

“I can head to town and spread the word to keep an eye out for Kat,” Howard suggested again. “From what I hear she didn't seem herself tonight—and as we all know, it's better to be safe than sorry.”

“Maybe we should talk this through first, Howard.” Frank stepped around Betty so he could face her again. “Listen, Betty. I imagine Kat was embarrassed for letting her emotions get out of control. She might have wanted to apologize to Mickey. Maybe she's over there now, talking to him. Maybe we missed her on the road—passed the jeep she was riding in.”

“Okay, maybe all that is true, but what if it's not?” She persisted with Howard. “Can you
please
go get my friends at the canteen and ask them to bring Mickey?”

Howard looked to Frank, who nodded. He felt bad getting Howard wrapped up in this, but it wouldn't hurt anything and would ease Betty's conscience. Betty was hiding something—something that made her more worried about Kat than he had reason to think she should be. Maybe she'd share the burden with him once Howard was gone. He needed to know these things. He was the one with secrets to keep, not the other way around.

Howard left, and a few seconds later, they heard the jeep driving away.

Betty paced for a minute, and then she sighed and plopped down on the stairs that led to the second story. Her face was contorted with worry.

Frank approached and squatted down in front of her. “There's something you're not telling me.”

“I don't know why you're saying that.” Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes wide, but she refused to look at him.

“I can see it all over your face.”

“Maybe when Mickey comes…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked to her lap.

Frank paced while they waited. He made a large loop, walking from the front door to the walled-up area that used to lead to the main part of the house, to the back door, which was also boarded up, and then he passed the stairs and the hallway, which led to the annex with the rooms, finding himself back at the front door.

He walked the same route fifty times at least, not knowing what else to do. Not knowing what else to say. He wanted to press Betty to tell him the truth. He needed to know what was happening. Then again, if he pressed too much, he might push her away. Frank couldn't let that happen, so he stayed quiet.

Betty yawned, and then leaned back against the stair behind her. Her eyes were closed, and at first Frank thought she'd fallen asleep, but then he saw her lips moving. Frank paused his pacing and approached Betty, sitting down beside her. And as he sat, a strange sensation came over him. He realized that he wanted to be here for
her.
Not only for his job.

“Betty,” he whispered.

Softly her eyelashes lifted, and she glanced up at him.

“Are you praying?”

Betty nodded.

“Can I pray with you?”

Betty nodded again.

Frank took her hands in his. Earlier today, such a gesture would have made his heart pound with her closeness. But now—now he just wanted to protect her. To give her peace. To ease the worries that mounted in her heart.

“Dear God, I know Betty is worried about Kat,” he started.

The sound of a jeep motor revved up the driveway. Betty must have heard it too because she stirred. Frank quickly wrapped up his prayer, and as soon as they both whispered “Amen,” they rose and hurried to the door. Betty opened it, and Frank saw Mickey mounting the steps, followed by several of the singers and Howard.

“Betty!” He opened his arms to her, and she hurried into his embrace, like a little girl turning to her father for comfort.

“Mickey, do you know where Kat is? She's not here.”

“You checked the room?” Irene rushed down the hall.

“Did you look upstairs?” Dolly hurried up the stairs.

“Did anyone check the trail?” Shirlee asked. “We've told her more than once that she didn't need to be walking alone.”

“Checking the trail is a good idea,” Mickey said. “There's no reason Kat shouldn't be here. No reason at all.”

Irene came out of Kat's room with a yellow piece of paper in her hands. Frank recognized it as a telegram, and he wondered what was on it.

The dark-haired singer moved to Mickey. “This is here, and her things are just as she left them. She hasn't even packed for her flight tomorrow. She'd never take off like this and not tell anybody. I mean,
even if she wanted to be alone she'd do it here—she'd just kick us all out of her room, that's all. She's done it before.”

Dolly came back down the stairs. “She's not upstairs, either. Where could she be?”

Everyone quietly exchanged glances. Frank couldn't help but notice how each one glanced at him, as if uncomfortable with his presence.
They know more than they're letting on. There's something in that telegram they don't want to tell me about.
Again, a war erupted inside Frank. He could stay and pester them for the truth, or he could go. He decided that the latter would be the wisest thing to do. He didn't want to get on their bad side after only one day. He needed these performers to trust him. To allow him into their lives. Who knew what was at stake if they didn't?

Frank cleared his throat. “I'm sorry Kat's missing, but I'm not sure if I can be of any more help.” He stepped to the door.

“Howard, are you coming?”

“Actually,” Mickey said, “I think we'd like Howard to stay here. But thank you, Frank, for all your help.” Mickey walked forward and shook Frank's hand.

They want Howard to stay but not me?

Frank nodded good-bye, and then he glanced back at Betty. Her eyes met his. She offered him a sad smile, and then she turned her attention back to her friends.

It wasn't until Frank was outside and down the front steps that he realized he no longer had a ride. He buttoned his jacket, flipped the collar up, and then stared down the tree-lined lane. It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes to walk up the hill, past the Festspielhaus,
and then down the other side.
I'll keep an eye out for Kat. although it can't be good if she's on the trail after all this time. Maybe she twisted her ankle. That would explain things.
Frank didn't let his mind wander to what else could have happened to a beautiful girl in a dark, secluded place.

He grabbed his camera equipment from the jeep and patted his side where his pistol was, just for reassurance. Finally, fixing his flashlight beam down the driveway, he headed out.

It was cold, but it wasn't the walk that bothered him. It didn't even bother him that he and Betty didn't get a chance to talk. What bothered him most was the look in Betty's eyes. The look that said she was hiding something.

The look that said she didn't trust him with the truth.

Betty lifted her head, listening as the wind blew outside. She hated sending Frank away without an explanation, but she didn't have a choice. Kat had clearly stated her wishes, and Betty had to stick by that. Even though she trusted Frank, she knew the others didn't. She wished they would have let him stay though. Even with all the questions that hung over them, Frank's presence calmed her.

“Do you need a description of Kat?” Irene asked Howard. “They always ask for a description in the movies.”

The MP chuckled. “No offense, miss, but I don't think we'll need that. This is Katherine Wiseman we're talking about. We've seen her in the pictures. We've seen the shows. Why, I wouldn't be surprised
if half the guys here have her picture pinned up near their beds, right next to Betty Grable. But do any of you know where Kat went after leaving the Festspielhaus?”

“Dolly, Betty, and I didn't see her leave.” Irene twirled her finger in the air. “The three of us went on stage right after she left.”

“How about you, Mick? Did you see her leave?” Esther asked.

“No, I had to scramble to figure out what to do with the rest of the show.”

“Did she take any of her things? She'd laid out that large pile. Did anyone check?” Irene asked.

Betty noticed that the worry lines on the others' faces deepened.

Mickey ran his fingers through his hair. “Why didn't I follow her? What was I thinking?” He pointed to the window and the dark night. “There are so many crazies out there.”

Irene patted Mickey's shoulder. “It's not your fault, Mick. Kat's a big girl. She's the one that left. I'm sure someone saw where she went.”

“Yes, and there were MPs in the parking area by the jeeps.” Betty felt a small ray of hope. “They've had problems with people siphoning gas, you see, so they're posting guards. Surely someone saw her leave. We just have to trust that Kat is just doing what Kat does—pushing everyone away so she can work through some things on her own.”

Mickey sighed. “Yeah, kid, I'm sure there's a good explanation. Let's hope that she comes waltzing in that door soon. I'll even take her tears right now. I'll even cry with her if that helps.”

Frank walked up the hill with slow steps, his flashlight sweeping back and forth as he scanned the path. He supposed at one time, years ago, the trail had been well maintained. He could almost picture Wagner walking from his home to the opera house. He imagined fine, well-dressed women strolling in the park with parasols poised over their shoulders. He saw Wagner's children, innocent of how their father's music would impact the world, laughing and playing as they scurried around these woods.

His feet plodded through mud from the recent rainfall. His eyes searched for anything that looked out of the ordinary. His ears focused on the night sounds, the wind whispering through the trees. As he neared the pond area, Frank slowed and took an even closer look. By now, the moon had peeked out from the clouds, casting more light and reflecting off the surface of the pond. The breeze had died. The water was still. The forest quiet.

“Dear God,” he whispered, “I know You know where Kat is. Please take care of her. Please watch over her. I'm not sure—” A faint sound interrupted his prayer. His heart seemed to leap into his throat, and he turned his flashlight in the direction of the brush lining the pond. A small rabbit scurried into the dry branches. Nervous laughter spilled from his throat, and he could almost hear his sister's voice in his ear—her twelve-year-old voice, that is.

“Scaredy cat,” she'd told him more than once. “You'd be afraid of your own shadow, Frankie, if I wasn't around to protect you.”

Lily had always been the brave one, climbing to the top of the tree, running through the cemetery near their home at night, taking flying lessons and getting her pilot's license when most people believed girls needed to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground or—more accurately—firmly planted in the kitchen, where they could cook and clean and take care of their families.

“God, I know You're watching over Kat.” Frank continued his prayer. “There's been enough pain in this world lately, don't You think? Can You help us out with this one?”

Then he turned and continued up the hill. The night was dark, the trail was empty, and Frank's pistol remained in its holster where it belonged. Frank supposed he should be glad for that.