“Yes, I told you I will.”
“And you’ll be back before Judy and Francis arrive?”
“Of course. They’re not due in until eight o’clock tonight.”
“Mama, when do the firecrackers start?” Frankie asked.
“At midnight, but you’ll be in bed.”
“Why can’t I go see them?”
“There will be more tomorrow. They’ll be going off all week.”
Eddie, who had been crunching through his bowl of Sugar Frosted Flakes, said, “Lily, what’s wrong?”
She had stopped eating her breakfast. She picked up her piece of toast again and forced herself to take another bite. “Nothing.”
Her father looked at her over the edge of the newspaper. “You’re not feeling sick?”
“No.”
“Good.” He dropped the paper on the table and stood up. “I’d better go.”
“Why did you ask if she was sick? Are you sick, Lily?” her mother asked.
“No.”
“She was up late last night,” her father said. “I thought she might have caught what Frankie had.”
“I’m fine,” Lily said.
Her father picked up his lunch from the counter. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Lily got up and dumped her half-finished piece of toast in the trash before her mother could notice she hadn’t eaten it all.
“Lily, I need you to stay home today with Frankie,” her mother said. “I have a lot of errands to run.”
“I don’t need her to stay with me,” Frankie said. “Eddie can stay with me.”
“Eddie has to do his homework, and you’re still recovering. Lily will be here. Wait—when do you need to meet Shirley?”
“Not until six. The judging happens at seven but we have to get there an hour early.”
“That should be fine, but make sure to eat before you go. I won’t have time to make you dinner.”
“I know.”
“Will you go and strip the beds, please? I need you to start the laundry this morning.”
“Yes, Mama.”
But Lily hesitated before leaving the kitchen; the newspaper was sitting on the corner of the table, abandoned. She wanted to grab it, but before she could make her move, her mother sat down at the table and picked up the paper, flipping directly to the society columns in the back. Lily watched her for a moment, wondering if she’d go back to the front page, but she didn’t.
* * *
—
Lily had to wait until her mother left before she could use the telephone. By then it was late morning, and she could barely contain her anxiety. After making sure that Eddie and Frankie were in the living room, she went to the telephone and nervously picked up the heavy black receiver, dialing Kath’s number from memory. There was a click in her ear, and then the call connected. The brr-brr sound repeated over and over as she stood there waiting for someone to pick up, but no one did. After ten rings, she hung up, her heart racing.
She dialed the number again.
Once more she counted ten rings; once more there was no answer. This time when she hung up, she sank down onto the bench. She felt dizzy with worry. She told herself that the fact that there was no answer didn’t mean anything. Maybe they were just out—her own mother had gone out—perhaps everyone in Kath’s family had gone out, too. She briefly imagined the whole family at the market, or going to the park, or—
She suddenly remembered the newspaper article, and she jumped up and went back into the kitchen. She found the Chronicle in the trash can, the edges dampened by coffee grounds. She shook it off as well as she could and unfolded it. The front page was wet in the lower right quadrant, but the headline was still crisp and shockingly large.
TEENAGE GIRLS ‘RECRUITED’ AT SEX DEVIATE BAR
Police raided a North Beach bar known as the Telegraph Club Friday night, after receiving tips that the bar has long been a hunting ground for “gay” types that use the establishment to recruit teenage girls into debauchery. The club, located at 462 Broadway, has been under secret investigation for months. Inspector J. L. Herington of the San Francisco Police reports that at least a dozen teenage girls have been seduced by older women into a vice academy, in which they were introduced to marijuana and Benzedrine, and encouraged to attend secret parties after hours at the homes of sex deviates.
On the testimony of several teenage girls interviewed at the Youth Guidance Center, warrants were issued for the woman owner of the Telegraph Club, Joyce Morgan, and Theresa Scafani, who performs at the club as a male impersonator under the stage name Tommy Andrews. Both women were arrested and charged with contributing to the delinquency of minors, and Scafani was charged with lewd conduct.