“I’m not sure I’m up for this.”
“It doesn’t matter. I insist. No more sitting around by yourself. Can you hang in there until Christmas Eve?”
“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The receiver wasn’t back in the cradle more than five seconds when the phone rang again.
“Kelly.”
“Irene Kelly? Oh, drat! Now I owe Austin five dollars. I told him you wouldn’t be in on a Sunday. Shouldn’t gamble on the Lord’s day, I suppose.”
“Mr. Devoe?” I ventured.
“Yes, Hobson Devoe. Mr. Woods tracked me down and urged me to call you.”
“Thanks for getting in touch. I’d like to ask you some questions about Mercury Aircraft — you work there?”
“Oh, well, in a manner of speaking. I’m officially retired, but they pay me a little something to act as the museum curator. I started working for Mercury back in 1938. I was in charge of what is now called Human Resources — personnel. But Mercury has a public relations department that I’m sure would—”
“—I’d rather talk to you first, Mr. Devoe.”
“Just exactly what is this about, Miss Kelly?”
“You knew Dr. Blaylock?”
“Oh my, yes, poor Edna,” he said, and was quiet for a moment. “I spoke with her a few times about her research, but I didn’t know her very well. I knew her mother — a longtime employee of Mercury. You are the reporter who received the letter from the killer, are you not?”
“Yes. Three letters, now.”
“Three! This has happened more than once? Oh, my!”
“I take it you don’t read the
“But I do! I read it religiously. Oh! I’ve failed to tell you, haven’t I? I’m not calling from Las Piernas. I’m visiting my daughter in Florida. Austin has been leaving messages on her answering machine, but we were in Orlando, taking my granddaughter to Disney World. Just got in today.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Devoe, I didn’t realize this was a toll call for you. Let me call you back.”
“No, no. Austin is the one who’ll need help with his telephone bill. He left… I’ll just say
Briefly, I described the letters and the murders which followed them.
“Oh. I understand the urgency. Oh, my goodness, yes.”
“You said you knew Edna Blaylock’s mother. Did you know Bertha Thayer, or…” I flipped through the notes I had taken at Rita Havens’ house. “…or Gertrude Havens?”
“Gertrude, yes, of course. And Bertha as well. Amazing, really, that I should. I’ve met tens of thousands of workers over my years at Mercury. But Gertrude and Bertha were some of the very first women to work in manufacturing. War workers, as you’ve noticed. I was responsible for programs for them at both of our Southern California plants.”
“What sort of programs?”
“Oh, I tried to help those first women workers feel welcomed and at ease. And to help workers cope with the transition, both for the women and the men. It was considered quite the new frontier in those days. Viewed as something of an experiment at first.”
“Experiment?”
“Goodness, yes. Something temporary. Most of the women lost their jobs not long after the war. There was even some gearing down after V-E Day. It was simply expected that the women would all be laid off — well, the corporation expected it, but I can tell you that not all of the women expected it. Not that they begrudged veterans a job; no, they had simply become dependent on the income. And I, in turn, hated to lose some of those women workers. I managed to persuade… oh my. Oh my.”
“Mr. Devoe? Is something wrong?”
“Wrong? No, no. Oh, my goodness. Why, Miss Kelly! I just realized that the workers you named had something very unusual in common.”
16
MY PEN FROZE above the notes I had been writing. “What did they have in common?” “Those three workers weren’t laid off at the end of the war.”
“Was that really so rare?”
“Oh yes. Oh yes indeed.”
“Do you remember why were they allowed to keep their jobs?”
“Of course I do. There was only one hardship plea that J.D. would listen to.”
“J.D?”
“J.D. Anderson, founder and president of Mercury Aircraft. Deceased now, of course. But back then, I begged J.D. to let the war widows stay. That wasn’t good enough for him. War widows with good work records, I asked.
