The room had an ocean view, bed made, everything neat and clean like the maid had just been there. First he checked the closet. Two sport jackets on hangers, half a dozen long-sleeved dress shirts, two pairs of pants, two pairs of dress shoes, one black, the other brown, red Breakers golf shirt. Hess’ suitcase was on the floor in the corner. He went through the pockets of all the clothes and the compartments in the suitcase, didn’t find anything. He moved back in the bedroom, checked the dresser, opened the drawers, saw socks in one, underwear and undershirts in another. Three drawers were empty.
Harry sat at the desk in front of the window that looked out at the ocean. Saw a freighter creeping along the horizon. He glanced around, noticed a briefcase tucked under the desk on his right. Reached for the handle and pulled it up and put it flat on the desktop. Tried to open it, but it was locked. Harry took out the key ring he’d taken off Hess. There was a small key with a black plastic cap on the end and a hole through it. He slid it in the lock and the briefcase opened.
There was a stack of business cards tucked in a leather sleeve, identifying Gerd Klaus as Midwest sales manager of an international auto parts company. Harry took out a pile of receipts: Statler Hotel in Detroit, an Eastern Airlines flight, Detroit-West Palm, Hertz car rental, all in the name Gerd Klaus, all paid in cash. Under the receipts were surveillance photographs, close-ups of Harry at several Munich locations, and a couple shots of Harry and Cordell. Under the photos were half a dozen auto parts brochures. Hess had gone to a lot of trouble to look authentic.
On the bottom of the briefcase was another business card, Dana Kovarik, assistant manager, SunTrust Bank, with an address on Royal Poinciana Way, Palm Beach. He put the card, keys and photographs in his pockets, walked out of the room and closed the door.
41
Harry watched Colette come through the gate. He’d been thinking about her, but seeing her had an effect on him. She was looking around, saw him and ran over, kissed him and they put their arms around each other, standing there, the exiting passengers moving around them.
They drove down the coast, checked in a motel on the ocean called the Ebb Tide. It had twelve efficiency apartments, a pool, private beach, and it was right near the inlet where the fishing boats came in.
When they got to the room, Colette showed him her article, six pages in
“It was self-defense and I still feel bad about it.”
“Of course you do,” Harry said. “You’re a good person. How’s your mother?”
“She was in shock.”
“I can imagine. Must’ve scared the hell out of her.”
“But she’s fine now, hiking in the mountains again.”
“I was surprised you didn’t mention Hess’ souvenirs.”
“We know he was a serial killer, but we can’t prove it. My editor wouldn’t allow it.”
“My favorite part, of course, is the daring escape by an eye-witness survivor who is prepared to come forward to help prosecute Hess.”
“I thought you’d like that.” Colette sat on the bed. “Here’s the strange thing, Harry. The article appeared a few days ago and Hess has disappeared. Reporters converged on his estate in Schleissheim and his Munich apartment. His wife and daughter claim they have no idea where he is.”
“You believe them?”
“I do. I think he’s left the country. Gone into hiding.”
“You’re probably right.” Harry didn’t tell her what really happened. That Hess was dead. At least Harry hoped he was.
