MR. ROSENTHAL MISSED his step and staggered foward. “My God.”
“Please stay here.” I went over to the body, being careful to make a wide circle so as to introduce as little confusion of footprints as possible. There was no doubt Klein was dead. His skin was the colour of ashes in a cold fireplace; his eyes and mouth were frozen open in rigor mortis. As is usually the case, his bowels had evacuated on death and I could smell him from where I stood.
The front of his overalls were soaked with blood.
I addressed Mr. Rosenthal.
“I’m going to check the office. Please don’t move until I give the signal.”
He didn’t protest and remained frozen on the spot.
I could see into Klein’s office. Unless somebody was underneath the desk, the place seemed empty, but I had to make sure.
“If anything happens, Mr. Rosenthal, you must go for help immediately. There’s a telephone in the office and I’m going to ring the police. When I know it’s safe, I want you to go downstairs. Have everybody go into the lunch room. Nobody must leave until the police arrive.”
“What shall I tell them?” His voice was a whisper.
“Say there has been an accident and the police are on their way.”
“Shall I say anything about Klein?”
“Better not at this point. Stick to the absolute minimum information.”
“Right. An accident. Police coming.”
“Exactly. I’ll stay here until they arrive.”
His colour was returning. As I’d thought earlier, Mr. Rosenthal was of tough stock.
“Do you want me to come back up here?”
“No. Stay with the others.”
“Very well.” He choked a little. “I can hardly believe what I’m seeing Miss Frayne. Who would have done this?”
“The police will investigate.”
I wasn’t carrying any kind of weapon, defensive or offensive. All I had was my handbag which I grasped ready to strike out if necessary. Not that it could have been very effective, but it was better than nothing. Then, walking carefully, I walked into the office.
Nobody was hiding underneath the desk. I exhaled and relaxed my grip on my handbag. I took out my handkerchief, wrapped it around my hand, lifted the receiver and telephoned the police. Connection made, I gave Mr. Rosenthal a wave and he turned away, heading downstairs.
I was standing behind the desk, which was wide, more a table than a desk. Klein must have been putting up the employees’ wage packets when he was interrupted, because there was an open metal cash box to one side containing dollar bills and several rolls of coins. Next to it was a cardboard box in which were the packets, some already labelled and some not. A sheaf of papers, pinned together, the weekly time sheets lay on the chair. There was an adding machine. Given the presence of the money I expected robbery, but it was hard to tell. Nothing here or in the workshop seemed disturbed.