The Bridegrooms Read Free Page B

‘Harmonic,’ you’ll need to conduct an interview with Herr Johann himself.”
    “Come on, Miss Allenhouse.” He leaned closer, the deep bass of his voice underscoring the sounds of the street. “It is
Miss
Allenhouse, isn’t it?”
    Vada flashed her best smile, the one she knew would bring out the dimple just above her chin.
    “Don’t try your flattery on me, Mr. Voyant. I really can be of no help. Now, if you would like to speak to Herr Johann—”
    “I’ve tried.” He effectively blocked her exit with one side step. “Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think that guy thinks I’m an idiot.”
    She wanted to say it wasn’t his imagination at all, that Bertram Johann considered just about everybody to be an idiot, but she didn’t want to hurl an insult into his sincere green eyes. Instead she said, “I’m sorry. Mr. Johann is intent on revealing as little information as possible.”
    “I’m begging you, Miss Allenhouse. Anything you tell me would be helpful.” He held up his little notebook again, clearly revealing the time on his wristwatch.
    “Oh no!” Vada stamped her foot, and the envelope dropped to her side. “Now you’ve made me late for the printer’s, and we’ll never get the program on time.”
    “So that
is
your precious cargo.” Dave’s eyes traveled the length of her, stopping short of being downright insulting. “What’s on the list for the evening’s entertainment? A little Bach? A little Beethoven?”
    As he spoke, he moved aside to hold the bakery door open, allowing a woman and her two children to pass through. He tipped his cap and wished her a good afternoon, at which time the woman turned and sent an approving smile over her shoulder.
    Vada squared herself in response, preparing to get out of this conversation. Now. After all, Mrs. Moravek, the baker’s wife, had been serving Garrison and her their Sunday morning pastries for nearly a year. What would she think seeing Vada locked in conversation with another man? It was only a matter of time before she would come to the window and see—
    “Maybe a touch of Mozart?”
    “Honestly, Mr. Voyant. Why do I get the impression that your ability to rattle off a list of composers exhausts your vat of musical knowledge?”
    He chuckled and threw his hands up in surrender. “You’ve caught me. I just got into town a couple of months ago, and the first assignment I get is the arts beat. So can you help a fellow out?”
    “I don’t think—”
    Before she could finish her sentence, Dave snatched the envelope from her hand.
    “Give that back to me!”
    “Were you headed for Franklin’s Dream Printing just around the corner?”
    “Yes, until you—”
    “I’ll take it in for you.”
    “They’re closed.”
    “They’ll open for me, Miss Allenhouse. Answer one question, and I promise you’ll have them in a week.”
    “We need them by Thursday.”
    “Answer two, and you’ll have them Wednesday.”
    She studied his face. The smile was still there, but it was void of any flirtation and artifice. How much harm could one question be? Or two? Keeping her nose in the air as high as safety would allow, she walked away from the bakery window, knowing he was following close behind.
    Once she was safely in front of an anonymous tailor’s, she turned, planted her feet, and folded her arms in front of her. “Two questions, then.”
    “Great.” He tucked the envelope under one arm and licked the tip of his pencil. “First, how does this orchestra compare with the philharmonic that disbanded in ’95?”
    Vada’s mind flashed back to the missed beat at the top of the third measure. “It doesn’t.”
    “How so?”
    “Is that your second question?”
    “My darling Miss Allenhouse. Perhaps you should consider a career in politics.”
    “Hardly likely, seeing as I don’t even have the right to vote.”
    Dave tilted his head back, squinted one eye, and gave a studied perusal. “Funny, I didn’t take you for a