sheepishly. “Sorry that took so long, but apparently clearing me to return to ‘action’ required a lot of paperwork.”
Sue turned to Vi. “Speaking of paperwork . . . Miss Heart, I had a message from the USO office saying your passport information is missing.”
Vi worked to keep her expression smooth, unconcerned. “There was an error on my first one, so I had to turn it in to get fixed. But I should have it back in time to sail.”
Sue didn’t seem much appeased. “Let’s hope so, though you should’ve told me before.”
Vi bit the inside of her cheek and stayed silent, knowing she would only dig her hole deeper if she tried to defend herself. The truth was she hadn’t applied for anything yet, a situation she knew she needed to remedy as soon as possible—or, as the army said, ASAP.
As Sue turned to the others and began explaining the schedule for the rest of the day, Marcie sidled up to Vi.
“Don’t feel bad,” the girl whispered. “It took forever to get my passport sorted out, too. The fellow at the courthouse wasn’t too keen on taking just my parish priest’s word that I’m over eighteen and wanted my parents’ permission instead.”
Vi glanced at her travel buddy in surprise. “Couldn’t you have just shown him a birth certificate?”
Marcie shrugged. “I didn’t have it with me.”
“So why didn’t you ask your parents to vouch for you?” Though Vi suspected she knew what the real problem was.
Marcie glanced uneasily at Sue and the others. “I didn’t want to bother them.”
I bet, Vi thought with a laugh. If Marcie was indeed the rebellious Mob daughter who wasn’t supposed to be doing something as risky as touring the Foxhole Circuit with the USO, involving her parents would’ve been the last thing she wanted to do. “For future reference, I heard baptismal certificates work, too.” At least she hoped so, having just forged a baptismal certificate for herself on borrowed letterhead.
Sue glared in their direction again, so Vi clammed up. The need to stay in Sue’s good graces, at least until the troupe was safely overseas, trumped any further attempts to gain Marcie’s confidence. At least for now.
Though it sure would be swell if she could confirm Marcie’s identity as the missing Mob daughter. Perhaps if she called Sal to see if Angelina Maggio might be working under a stage name. She had noticed a pay phone earlier, outside the PX, so she would have the means, if not the moola. Not that she was too worried. Sal would likely spring for a collect call, as long as it was from her. And as long as she didn’t make it a habit.
The problem was finding the time to call. Between Sue and the army, every minute of every day was accounted for, from reveille to lights out. And there was Sal’s schedule to consider, too. Having been gone almost a week, she guessed the show had already closed. So would he be home or at the club working on a new lineup? Perhaps if she sneaked out and called late enough, she might be able to reach him at home—a place she knew existed in theory even if she had never been there.
She could also ask about Jimmy while she was at it. Her chest ached at the thought. Oh, how she missed seeing her little boy. He was all that was good in the world, all that was precious. The only good thing to have come out of her screwed-up life.
She gave herself a mental shake. What she should really be asking about was the status of the investigation into Tony’s murder. She might be free and clear and able to return home on the next Greyhound, the USO be damned. The mere possibility made her fingers itch to dial Sal right now.
Then she remembered the deal that had been cut with Miss Maggio’s father and silently cursed. Papa Maggio would not be happy if she reneged, and an angry Papa Maggio, with all his Mafia connections, would be a much bigger threat to her future happiness than a mere murder conviction.
Bottom line was she had to somehow locate Miss Maggio before the unit shipped out, or her goose would not only be cooked—it would be cooked, dressed, and served up on a gold platter with gravy on the side.
“Virginia, did you hear me?” Sue’s voice interrupted her gloomy train of thought. “It’s time for you and Miss May to show me what you’ve