“I wanted to bring you this.” He hefted the bag. “But first, I want to ask, is there news about Jamie? Herr Welles came by the boardinghouse last night, that is the house I moved into, where Pérez, the Ashes, and Laguardia also board. He said you wished to speak to everyone before the store opened today. I am assuming the worst.”
Here it was.
Her first test.
Inez crossed her arms and steeled herself. “I am sorry to say, the longshoreman who came to see you was right. It was Jamie Monroe by the bridge.”
“Ach.” Otto’s ruddy face paled. “I was afraid of that. Mein Gott. He did not deserve this. No one does.”
An unexpected lump rose in her throat, originating from somewhere behind her breastbone. Otto pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face, although Inez saw no sign of perspiration.
“You are right, Herr Klein, no one deserves such an end. I find it hard to believe that he is gone. All we can do is hope the police find who did this to him.”
“What do we do now?” Otto pushed his handkerchief back into his pocket. “Should we start a collection for him, to have him buried properly?”
It was the perfect opening for the words she had prepared. “The authorities found his family. They are taking him home for burial.”
There.
Short and sweet.
All true, provided she continued to skirt the details. No lies to trip her up later.
Just enough information to assure Jamie’s friends that his body would not lie unclaimed, nor rolled into a pauper’s plot. They would mourn, recover, and go on with their lives.
They had reached the back of the store, and Otto sank into a chair by the round table. “If possible, please pass along my condolences to his family.” He set the bag carefully, respectfully, on the round table. “These are Jamie’s and should go with his trunk. I finished emptying everything from the old room and found some of his clothes in the dresser.”
It occurred to Inez that perhaps those clothes held further secrets or clues. “Did you check the pockets, perchance?”
“That would be disrespectful.” Otto sounded horrified. “Prying.”
She thought it would have been one of the first things she would have done, if the clothes belonged to a vanished roommate who owed back-rent, but all she said was, “I shall make sure they are delivered along with the trunk.”
“I also found two more items. This—” He handed her a brass key.
Inez blinked. Unless she missed her guess, it was the key to Jamie’s trunk upstairs. “Thank you. And, the other?”
“This, it is strange. I found it under the mattress. On the slats.” He held out a sheaf of papers, folded in half, lined, creased, and somewhat the worse for wear.
At Inez’s raised eyebrows, he had the grace to blush. “Sometimes, under the mattress, it is a little hiding place, you know. A good place for keeping things close, and requires no key.”
Inez wondered what Otto had hidden on the slats under his mattress.
She sat down by Otto and unfolded the papers. “A list of names.” She fanned the pages. “A lot of names.”
“Ja.” Otto craned his head to view the list with Inez.
She skimmed the first couple of pages. Last name, followed by an initial, and a number. “These numbers look like they indicate amounts of money. So-many-dollars and cents.” She frowned. “The first name has a checkmark by it, but none of the others do. Hmmm. And here, I cannot be certain, whoever wrote this had a terrible hand, but isn’t this Nico? It must be, unless there is another ‘Donato, N.’ Or unless the last name is Darata, or Dorano, or some such. Goodness.”
“I believe you are right, Frau Stannert. Yes. I think it is Donato.”
More names marched down the other side as well in the small, crabbed script she did not recognize. “Who are these people?”
“I recognized only two names,” said Otto, proving to Inez once and for all that, although he said he hadn’t gone through his roommate’s suit pockets, he’d had no qualms perusing a list concealed under his friend’s mattress. “Donato, as you said. Now, go to the last page.”
She flipped to the back. His finger glided down the list, stopping near the bottom. “Here.”
Inez peered, wishing she had the spectacles she kept on the desk for close work. “What does it say? I can hardly read this writing.”
“It says ‘Welles.’ With a ‘T.’ for Thomas.”
She flipped the pages again, searching quickly for other familiar names, but spotting none. “Thank you, Otto. For being so thorough and for entrusting this to me.”
“Of course. I almost threw it out, but since Jamie thought it important enough to hide, and there was a chance he might show up, I thought I should give it to someone. I thought Nico, but I must be off for a job at a lunch counter this morning.”
“I’ll take care of this,” said Inez. After I’ve had a chance to ponder what it means.
He chewed on his lower lip. “The others, you will tell them about Jamie?”
“I plan to tell them exactly what I told you just now.”
His hunched-up shoulders eased down. He heaved a big sigh. “At least we know what happened to him. And as you say, I hope justice is found.”
He picked up his cornet case and left.
With the help of her spectacles, Inez pondered the list, even as she organized the paperwork that she had neglected from the previous day. She now realized that the checkmark was done with pencil, while the writing was in ink. The pages appeared to have been torn from a ledger of some kind. So, what was it and what ledger did it come from? And why did Jamie have it and hide it?
She didn’t have
