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Ty had no sooner shut off the engine when Scooter appeared next to his window. “Fill ’er up?” he asked, bending down to look in.
“Yes,” Ty answered.
Scooter must have heard, but he didn’t move, at least not toward the gas pump. Instead he leaned down farther to look past Ty. He stared at her with an unmistakably shocked expression on his face. “Norma Rose?”
“Hey, Scooter,” she answered, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
“Hey,” he repeated rather slowly, his tone questioning.
* * *
Ty rubbed a hand over his itching lips. He’d never had so much trouble keeping grins hidden. To say this man was surprised to see Norma Rose was the understatement of the year. “Go ahead and fill it up,” he said. “And wash the windshield if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Sure,” Scooter said, still staring at Norma Rose. Though he didn’t speak aloud, his lips formed her name again.
Cheeks rosy red, she fluttered her gloved fingers in a little wave. Ty pinched his lips again as Scooter, still looking like he’d seen a ghost, waved back.
“The gas,” Ty reminded him.
“Yeah, sure, right away,” Scooter said, inching away from the window, never pulling his eyes off Norma Rose.
Ty waited until the other man started cranking on the pump. Over the noise, he said, “You don’t leave the resort often, either, do you?”
She rubbed the end of her nose. “Not with someone.”
“Not with someone, or not with a man?” He couldn’t help but ask.
Her silence made him glance through the back window, where Scooter was still staring as if Norma Rose had grown two heads.
She glanced through the window, too, and let out a heavy sigh. “Fine, not with a man, or at least not a strange one.”
“You think I’m strange?”
“No, that’s not—” She stopped, noticing his grin.
She smiled, too, and let out a little giggle that told him she’d embarrassed herself.
A thud at the back of the truck said Scooter had heard her giggle, too.
Ty turned to look out the driver’s window, to make sure the attendant had the nozzle inside the gas tank. He seemed so fixated on Norma Rose he might be pumping gas all over the ground.
“Scooter, is it?” Ty asked when the man noticed him.
“Yeah, Scooter Wilson.”
“I’m Ty Bradshaw,” he offered. “I believe I saw you last night at the resort.”
“Scooter, Dac Lester and Jimmy Sonny were the last to leave,” Norma Rose whispered.
“Along with Dac Lester and Jimmy Sonny,” Ty added. “The three of you closed down the bar.”
Scooter’s brows, as dark as the black slicked-back hair on his head, knitted together.
Ty was well aware that no one said such things. Joints were called speakeasies because you had to talk softly to gain entrance, and because you never mentioned being in one, or who you’d seen there. Yet, he kept his eyes on the man, waiting for an answer.
“We did.” Shifting, Scooter slid his free hand into the pocket of his overalls. “I can’t say I recall seeing you.”
“It was dark,” Ty said.
The glass bubble atop the tall pump emptied, and with barely a nod, Scooter removed the nozzle and hooked it back on the side of the pump. Picking up a bucket of water, he said, “I’ll get your windshield now.”
“Appreciate it,” Ty said, trying to sound friendly. Instinct told him not to alienate this man, and that was enough. He never questioned his gut. “You didn’t by chance see Ginger last night, did you?”
“Sure,” Scooter answered.
Before Ty could respond, Norma Rose stretched across the front seat, planting herself between him and the steering wheel to stick her head out of his window. “You did?” she asked. “You saw Ginger?”
Ty tried to concentrate on the look of shock on Scooter’s face, but was rather distracted by one of Norma Rose’s knees planted in his thigh.
“Yeah,” Scooter said, holding a dripping rag in one hand. “She was at the top of the stairs, watching Brock play most of the night, like usual.”
Norma Rose deflated so quickly Ty barely had time to catch her before she landed on his lap. He helped her back onto the seat, where, squirming, she pulled her skirt back over her knees.
Ty tugged his gaze away from the silk stockings that made her knees glisten in the sunlight and leaned out the window. Scooter was washing the exact same spot while staring through the windshield. “You didn’t see Ginger after that, did you? After Brock’s performance?”
“No,” Scooter said. “After Brock was done performing, I helped him load up his instruments, and strapped his gas cans onto the back of his truck while he was in the resort talking with Norma Rose’s father.”
“Why onto the back?” Ty asked.
“Because the box was full of instruments. Every last one he owns.”
“That’s right,” Ty said, as if remembering. “Brock’s going to Chicago, to sing on the radio.”
“Yep,” Scooter said. “Left last night.”
“How much do I owe you?” Ty asked, digging cash out of his pocket.
Scooter rattled off an amount, and as Ty paid him, asked, “Why? What’s up with Ginger?”
“Nothing,” Ty answered. “We’re just curious about something.”
Scooter glanced curiously between Ty and Norma Rose. “I didn’t talk to Ginger at all last night.”
“Good enough,” Ty said, starting the engine.
“’Bye, Norma Rose,” Scooter said, once again bending down to look in the window.
“See you, Scooter,” she answered, her cheeks still rosy.
Ty bid farewell and waited until they were rolling down the highway before asking, “Would Ginger have left with Brock?”
“Brock?”
He nodded, but was more interested in the fact she was still speaking. She’d embarrassed herself completely by climbing across him and was obviously hoping he wouldn’t mention it. He considered it, but he knew staying on her good side was important right now. Besides, it would be best for him to forget it, too.
“Brock would never take Ginger anywhere, let alone Chicago,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“I know Brock.” Shifting in her seat, she leaned against the door to look at him. “His father was shot while delivering milk in St. Paul early one morning last year. There was a raid at a nearby speakeasy and he took a bullet in the back. The doctors didn’t give the family much hope, so my father sent Gloria over there, and she recommended a surgeon from Rochester. The family couldn’t afford to go to the Mayo Clinic to see this special surgeon, or to pay his fees, so my father paid for it, and Brock is determined to pay him back. Every cent.”
Ty had heard about Roger’s generosity to local families, but hadn’t heard this story, which was interesting. Someone wanted it kept secret.
“Brock doesn’t like owing my father money. He barely accepted payment for performing, wanting most of it to count against his debt. What little he did take, he gave to his family for food and other bills.” She shook her head. “Brock would never do anything to upset my father, and taking Ginger to Chicago would certainly upset him.”
“I see,” Ty answered. All he really saw was her. Keeping his eyes off her was growing more difficult. Close up, she was downright beautiful, and seeing her opening up to him, relaxed against the door like she was, had Ty’s pulse thumping a bit stronger than normal. Right now, she had a fascinating little secretive grin on her face, as if— “And I believe you’re right,” he said, realizing she’d been waiting for him to elaborate. Turning back to the road, and noting they were approaching White Bear Lake, he asked, “Where’s this amusement park?”
She huffed out a silly guffaw. “You know all there is to know about my family, and the resort, yet you don’t know where the amusement park is?”
He chuckled. She had him on that one. “I’ve momentarily forgotten,” he said. “Must be the company.” What was it about her that had his mind wandering, and not where it should be wandering?
There was that glare in her eye again, but this time it held a mocking glimmer. Norma Rose had marvelous eyes. It wasn’t just the deep blue color, but also the way they spoke volumes. He grinned and lifted a brow. “It’s over behind the Plantation.”
“Yes, it is.” Her answer was dry, bitter even. She turned about, to look straight out the windshield, and her posture stiffened.
There was more to her dislike of the Plantation nightclub than rivalry, Ty sensed. Ty couldn’t ignore his instinct. He also wondered if Forrest Reynolds was the reason behind her dislike. Forrest had taken over the establishment last year from his father, Galen, who, rumor had it, had moved to California for health reasons.
Although Ty already knew the answer, he wanted to see her reaction, so he asked, “Does Forrest own the amusement park, too?”
“No,” she said sternly. “The trolley company, Lowell’s, own it. They have trolleys that come up here several times a day. Have done for years and years.”
Another way Ginger might have gotten away. He didn’t say it aloud, and he didn’t need to—Norma Rose was clearly already thinking it. He hadn’t completely forgotten their mission. Usually that was all that was on his mind. Then again, he usually didn’t have a doll like Norma Rose sitting beside him, filling the air with a perfume he’d never forget. From this moment on, every time he got a whiff of roses, he’d think of her.
