He felt physically ill as the realization dawned on him that Wanda’s venereal condition was probably due to prostitution and not merely promiscuity, as he had assumed. Why should he care what happened to her? She was nothing but a goddam little whore. But-did that mean she deserved the beating that the two deputies had administered? And was it enough of an excuse to permit him to disclaim all responsibility for what she had become? He would wait and see what she had to say for herself. At least she was not a drug addict, or Dave would have mentioned it.
“That’s where things stood as of Monday,” Dan said, picking up the story. “Jack had first contacted us; and the other companies who held the cargo insurance on the hijacked shipments; about six months ago. In checking our records, we found we covered five of the shipments that had been hijacked up until then. Monday’s makes the sixth. Because of the deductible, we have never received any claims on the food products that were stolen, but our share of the other freight now comes to over fifty thousand-which is not to be sneezed at. I’m sorry to have to admit however, that because the other claims have been spread over so many years and none of them amounted to more than ten thousand at a time, we-like everybody else involved-just didn’t pay too much attention to them. The simple truth of the matter is that the gang has succeeded in fooling all of the people, all of the time, and-even though we now know what’s going on-they could go on doing it indefinitely.”
“How?” he asked. “With Closter dead, I would think that would put them out of business-especially since Mr. Hollander is so sure that his assistant, Tompkins, doesn’t know anything about the operation.”
Dan looked in the direction of the FBI man, who replied. “That’s true, Mr. Tuesday-as far as Affiliated is concerned.” He paused meaningfully, before continuing. “But, we’ve also discovered that the same thing has happened to at least two other distribution companies in the area within the past year. Continental Freight Distributors has had two hijackings and Trans-America Forwarders has had one, just two months ago-all with the same M.O. We’re checking now with other major cities to see if there have been similar occurrences elsewhere.”
“I told you it was a fantastic operation Mark,” Dan said. “But, we still think it’s all controlled by one man and; since it started here; that this is still his base of operations. If we can nail him, it would put an end to the whole business.”
“But you have no idea who he might be?”
“No,” Hollander replied. “With Mr. Atterbury’s permission, we searched Closter’s office, but he was too clever to leave anything incriminating laying around. The only other one that we’re sure is definitely connected with the hijackings is a man named Sam Grossman, the manager of the truck stops.”
“He manages all three of them?”
“Yes. And we’ve been able to establish that he was present at each of them on the day the hijacking took place in which the drivers were drugged. So, we’re reasonably sure that he must personally administer the drug-although we’re not sure how. Probably in the driver’s food. But, he’s only another spoke in the wheel. It’s the hub we’re after.”
“Do you intend to search the Closter house?”
He rubbed the forefinger of his left hand along the side of his narrow, bony nose. “That depends on what you have to tell us. Frankly, I don’t think we’d find anything. Closter, apparently, was a particularly cautious and secretive individual. Besides, we don’t want to stir the waters any more than necessary. That’s why we’re a little concerned about what you’ve been doing. So far, we’ve maintained a very low profile so as not to flush the quarry. We’d like to keep it that way until somebody makes a mistake. Somebody did Monday, but it’s beginning to look as if they’ve managed to cover their tracks. But, at the rate the operation has been growing, it’s obvious they’re getting over-confident and greedier-a fatal combination which will inevitably lead to even bigger mistakes.”
Haggerty’s murder had been no mistake, he felt like telling him. It was just as he thought, and it hardened his resolve to go ahead on his own. But, there was something else about Closter that Hollander had not mentioned, but that he felt sure he knew about, and wanted explained.
“Do you think Closter’s prison record had any bearing on his being involved in the hijackings?”
They all looked at him in surprise and Atterbury started to ask, “How did you.”, before Hollander interrupted him.
“You have been busy, haven’t you, Mr. Tuesday?” he grinned. “How did you find out about his record?”
“It was something his wife said,” he replied and repeated what Elise had told him Mrs. Closter had said, but without mentioning Elise’s name.
“I see,” Hollander said, with a faintly skeptical lift of his right eyebrow. “Well.. .to answer your question, no. At least, not that we’ve been able to establish so far. Incidentally, his real name was Oster, Claude Louis Oster, C.L. Oster. His father’s name was William. He changed his to William Closter after he was released from prison. Our agent at Affiliated lifted a set of his prints and we matched them with his service record.”
“I’ll be damned!” He felt a renewed respect for the bureau’s efficiency but, not enough to change his mind. “Why was he sent to prison in the first place?”
“He got involved in a black market operation while he was stationed in Europe after the war ended. He was a sargeant in the Quartermaster Corps and had access to various types of supplies that were extremely valuable, and in great demand at the time.”
“Was there anyone else involved with him?”
He nodded and grinned. “We thought of the same possibility. There were two young privates arrested at the same time as Closter. They received lesser sentences, and were released a year earlier than he was. We’ve checked them both out and-while they’ve both had some problems with the law since and, in fact, one of them is in San Quentin at the present time-neither ever saw or heard from Closter again.”
“How long a sentence did Closter get?”
“Three years in Leavenworth, but he only served two years and two months. He was paroled in December 1950, and he and his wife moved to Minneapolis. But, he was apparently unable to get any steady work there and as soon as he completed his parole, in October 1951, they dropped out of sight. That must have been when they went to California and he changed his name.”
“And this might be as good a place as any for Mr. Atterbury to give you his side of the story,” Dan suggested, turning to nod at the distribution company executive.
Atterbury had been looking increasingly sulky as the conversation progressed and his attempts to interpose his own thoughts had been either ignored or rudely interrupted. Now, as the three of them focused their attention on him, he seemed surprised that they had even remembered he was there-and relieved that he was finally being given his opportunity to speak on behalf of himself and his company.
“Well.. .I hired Bill Closter myself, in July 1955, in San Francisco.” He paused to glance at him defensively. “At the time, I was Western Regional Manager for Affiliated, and I hired Bill as a rate clerk. He had completed a correspondence course in traffic and transportation and had accumulated about four years experience in various jobs with a couple of other freight companies in the area.”
“Did you make any attempt to verify his employment or service record, Mr. Atterbury?” he asked.
Atterbury looked faintly sheepish. “I.we did as far as his employment record, and the correspondence school, was concerned. But, we didn’t see any necessity to check his service record. He was not being hired for a sensitive position and, besides, he only put down that he had been a private in the infantry. It would have been different if he had claimed any special skills or.. .or achievements. Later, when he was promoted to a position of more responsibility it.. .well, it just didn’t occur to us to go any deeper into his past.”
“It’s really academic, at this point, Mr. Atterbury,” he told him. “I presume you were satisfied with his work?”
“Yes. Yes, I was. He was conscientious, reliable and took a real interest in his work and in the business. And, he learned fast. By the beginning of 1960, when I was transferred here to our main office, I felt confident in recommending him for the job as our west coast traffic manager. And, three years later, when I was made a vice-president, I arranged to have him transferred here where he took over his present.. .that is, the job he had.. .until he.. .died.”
“When was he actually transferred here?”
“In September, nineteen sixty-three.”
He turned to Hollander again. “I believe you said the first hijacking was in March nineteen sixty-seven.”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“I suppose you’ve checked with your San Francisco office to see if there had been any similar hijackings while he was still out there?”
“We did,” Hollander responded “ and the answer is no. There weren’t, that we coulddiscover.”
“So, for almost twelve years, at least, Closter was apparently a good and faithful employee.”
“He was, Mr. Tuesday,” Atterbury said forcefully, as if expecting him to dispute his opinion. “Bill was a good worker, a hard worker.and he accomplished a lot for our company over the years.”
He admired his loyalty to his deceased employee-or maybe he was only trying to justify his failure to recognize Closter’s betrayal of his trust sooner.
“And, I presume, he was suitably rewarded for his efforts,” he said. “So why-and perhaps, even more to the point-how did he get involved in the hijacking operation?”
Atterbury glanced at the other two, as if hoping one of them would answer the question for him. “I have no idea why he’d do such a thing. Bill tended to be a loner. He didn’t make friends or socialize with our other employees. I probably know.. .knew him better than anybody else, but even I didn’t know anything about his personal life-either before or after he came to work for us. But, still, if he wasn’t.popular, he was well-liked and respected by everybody who worked with him-including myself.”
“Weren’t you aware of the growing number of hijackings, Mr. Atterbury?”
Atterbury’s florid complexion turned a deeper red. “No, Mr. Tuesday, I’m sorry to say I wasn’t. As President of Affiliated, perhaps I should have been but, frankly, ours is a growing company and I was more interested in the business that was coming in rather than in what was going out. Oh, I saw a report cross my desk every so often, but I depended on Bill to handle such things. Nobody could have been more shocked than I was when Mr. Hollander first came to see me with the report of what had been happening.”
“Did Closter ever give any indication that he knew he was under suspicion, or that the hijacking operation was under investigation?”
Hollander replied first. “Our agent at Affiliated reported that he had seemed to have become very short-tempered and even more withdrawn in recent weeks, but we don’t think it was due to our investigation. Mr. Atterbury was the only one who knew about it and we had cautioned him not to arouse Closter’s suspicions. It’s more likely that he was simply becoming more concerned about the growing size of the operation.”
When Atterbury saw he was finished, he added, “Usually, Bill and I would get together about once every couple of weeks to discuss the business and any problems he might be having. But, after I got Mr. Hollander’s report, I was.afraid I’d give myself away. So, if anything, I saw even less of him during the past few months. The last time we met was on Friday afternoon.” He paused, as if trying to reconstruct the meeting in his mind. “I’m.. .not sure but, I think he came very close to.to confessing. He seemed unusually nervous and distracted, and appeared to be deliberately prolonging the conversation, as if he was trying to build up his courage to tell me the truth. But, I’m afraid I finally became impatient with him and said that if he didn’t have anything important to discuss, that I had other matters to take care of.” He hesitated again, and then expressed the thought that had probably occurred to all of them. “I’m sorry I didn’t just let him ramble on. Maybe he would have confessed finally.. .and he, and the truck driver, would both be alive now.”
In the ensuing silence, they could hear the faint sound of Gladys and Dolores laughing and talking in the outer office. It seemed somehow disrespectful in the presence of the vision of needless death evoked by Atterbury’s words.
Dan broke the spell, turning to him to say, “I guess it’s your turn now, Mark. How about filling us in about what you’ve learned since Monday night?”
As he leaned forward and rested his forearms on top of the desk, he glanced at his watch and saw it was already four-thirty. He had hoped to be with Elise-or, at least, on his way to meet her-by now. But, after the time and the trouble the three of them had taken to acquaint him with the history of the hijackings and Closter’s background, he could not simply slough them off with a handful of meaningless details to explain his activities since Monday night. They appeared to think that he knew more than they did, but not how much more. Hollander had not mentioned Bentley or his two deputies and, apparently, had not been able to trace any of the hijacked shipments beyond the truck stops. He appeared to believe that Haggerty’s death had been more accidental than intentional, and to accept Closter’s as suicide. It was hard to believe that with the vast resources of the Bureau behind him, he was no closer to the truth, and so much further from it than he himself was. But, he could not afford to feel smug about it. The things he knew still were more mystifying than revealing and, unless the pictures and Wanda were as helpful as he hoped, they could very well remain unprovable. At least, though, Hollander did not suspect the existence of either, which would make it considerably easier to keep his information about them to himself. Otherwise, they were entitled to know about everything else-everything, that is, except about Elise. He would have to be careful to keep her out of it.
“When I got to the scene of the crash, Monday night, Closter had already left,” he began, digressing to ask Hollander, “You did know about him being a witness to it, didn’t you?”
The FBI man nodded. “Yes. Ben Wozniak told us about it, and we realized that was why he had left the office early the day before-to follow the trailer. But, of course, we couldn’t question him about it without revealing that he was under suspicion.”
“No. I suppose not,” he conceded. “Well, anyway, the deputy who had taken his report let me look at it and, while it was not an ordinary accident, there did not seem to be any reason to think it was anything else. Even when the deputy told me how Closter had described the driver as looking as if he were already dead when he passed him, it seemed probable that he had just had a heart attack or a stroke of some kind.”
“It’s odd that Closter would volunteer this information, under the circumstances,” Hollander mused.
“I thought so at first, too, after I found out who he was, But he had the top down on his convertible and probably figured he couldn’t deny seeing him, especially since he didn’t know how much the other witness had seen.”
“How much did she see?” he asked.
“Not enough to make any impression on her, even though the truck did cross right in front of her.” It was difficult to even talk about her in the abstract without feeling an almost overwhelming desire to be with her again. He hoped it did not show in his voice or in his face. “It was not until I phoned Ben afterwards that the possibility of his having been drugged first came up. When Ben suggested it, it seemed too fantastic for serious consideration and I was astounded the next morning when the coroner confirmed it. Then, when I found out from Ben that some of the freight was missing and that Closter was the traffic manager for the company that had loaded the trailer in the first place, the implications were inescapable, even if they were incomprehensible.”
“As you already know, I went to see Closter and, while he was still out to lunch, I managed to find out from his assistant, Tompkins, that he-Closter-had actually been directly responsible for the way in which the trailer had been loaded-with the sweaters and the caviar conveniently placed at the rear-and also that he had left early the day before, within a few minutes after the trailer had left. Closter, of course-when I talked to him after he returned from lunch-denied that this remarkable series of coincidences had any significance. He claimed he had left the office early because he wasn’t feeling well-although he had told Tompkins-and the deputy the night before-that it was his wife who wasn’t feeling well. He said he spent the afternoon just driving around and didn’t see anyone or stop any place that could verify his story. It was obvious to me that he was lying, but I was not in a position to-to do more than tell him so. But, it was also obvious that he was badly shaken by what had happened and; given a little more time to think about it; he might be willing to confess his part in it.”
So far he had told them nothing they did not already know, and their faces showed it. He would have to start telling them more, but not any more than he had to, or wanted to. “I stopped at the Interstate Truck Stop on the way back to Plainville. Ben had mentioned that was where Haggerty might have been drugged-although I’m sure it was only a wild guess on his part when he said it. Anyway, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to see what kind of a place it was and if anybody had seen him. I recognized one of the waitresses-she had been a witness in an accident involving some other clients of mine a couple of years ago-and asked her if she knew him. She admitted she did, and that he had been in there the day before. But, that was as far as I got because, just then, Grossman broke up the conversation. I did get her phone number but, so far, I haven’t had a chance to talk to her again to see if she knows anything more.”
“What’s her name?”
Perhaps he should have tried to avoid mentioning her at all, as he had originally intended. But, it occurred to him that since Hollander had been having some of his men pose as drivers, that one of them might have been in the truck stop and reported seeing him talking to her. The question did indicate though, that Hollander did not know what had happened to her afterwards, or where she was now.
“I’d rather not say. Not just yet,” he replied. “She put herself in a bad position the last time she came forward as a witness, and it didn’t do any good. I’d like a chance to talk to her myself to see if she does know anything more, before putting her in that position again. I’m going to see her tonight.”
He was slightly surprised-and relieved-when Hollander only gazed at him thoughtfully for a few seconds and then, nodded. “All right, Mr. Tuesday. But I would still want to talk to her myself regardless of what she tells you.”
“Fair enough,” he responded before resuming where he had left off. “Well, anyway, before I left the truck stop, I called my office and that was when I found out that Closter had left a message asking me to come to see him later that night—last night. I also called Ben and he told me of a couple of previous hijackings of Affiliated shipments that he had learned about, involving Dixie Motor Freight and Tri-State Express.”
“They were numbers fifteen and sixteen,” the FBI man advised.
“Well, without knowing that there had been so many others, it was still evident by then that the hijacking of the Central States truck was not just an isolated incident. So, I drove back to Plainville and went to see Sheriff Bentley to tell him what I had learned, and to find out what, if anything, he was doing about the coroner’s report.”
Hollander looked puzzled. “What about the coroner’s report?”
“Don’t you know what’s in it?”
“Yes. One of my men called the Sheriff and verified the fact that the driver had been drugged, if that’s what you’re referring to.” His tone was mildly defensive as if he already had guessed there was more.
“The sheriff didn’t tell your man about the bruise on the back of his neck, or the indications that he had been almost suffocated before the crash?”
Hollander’s narrowed eyes and compressed lips betrayed his anger at the realization that the sheriff had withheld the vital information from his office. “No, he didn’t. I wonder why?” he said quietly.
“Well, actually, the coroner had only reported them as part of his general observations without drawing any conclusions as to their cause or effect. But, in talking to me earlier he had seemed pretty certain that the bruise and the near suffocation had both occurred before the crash.” He paused but Hollander just nodded for him to go on. “It was apparent that Bentley didn’t attach any significance to either one and had accepted what had happened as nothing more than a simple-if fatal-accident. Even when I told him about the missing freight and the fact that the truck was two hours behind schedule when it crashed, he only reminded me that hijacking was a federal offense and was out of his jurisdiction. The only reaction I could get out of him was when I told him who Closter was and of his connection with the freight in the trailer.”
“What was his reaction?” Hollander inquired.
“It’s hard to describe. Shock. Surprise. But, there was something else too.” He tried to remember the way Bentley had looked. He had not been able to put his finger on it then, but he thought he could now. “It was as if he had just gotten a peek at his opponent’s hole card in a game of stud poker, and knew he had him beaten.”
“Did you tell him about your appointment with Closter for later that night?”
He welcomed the question since it made it possible for him to skip over the intervening hours with Elise. “No. But when I got to the Closter house, I was met by the same two deputies who had been at the scene of the crash the night before.” He briefly described his impressions of Flynn and Bucheck but omitted the altercation with them on his arrival at the Closter home. “They were just leaving and told me about Closter’s.suicide. I persuaded Mrs. Closter to talk to me despite.. .the way she was feeling and, after they left, I found out that Closter had not told her about my appointment with him, but had told her he was expecting someone else earlier, while she would be out to church.”
Another glance at his watch showed it was now after five. He wanted to bring the meeting to an end and call Elise, but had to be careful not to appear to be deliberately omitting anything. He told them how he and Mrs. Closter had looked for some sign of the earlier visitor and, not finding any, how she had remembered the incident some years earlier when Closter had another mysterious guest who had come and gone via the basement entrance. He then described the scene in the basement and-while still not finding any indication of anyone else being there-the conclusions he had drawn from the chair, the ladder and the tools. Dan whistled softly to himself and Hollander gazed at him with a renewed interest and respect. Atterbury looked from one to the other of them in open-mouthed astonishment and it was apparent, that all three of them had accepted Closter’s death as suicide.
“This morning” he continued, “Ben called me when he heard the news of Closter’s death, and told me of your visit to his office; after I had talked to him from the truck stop; and of your particular interest in the missing caviar. He also told me about the letter you had sent out about six months ago. It all added up to smuggling on top of everything else I already knew-or suspected. Then, I called the coroner and made an appointment to meet him at the county hospital. At first, he seemed reluctant to.. .to even discuss the possibility that Closter’s death might not have been suicide but; when I explained his involvement in the death of the Central States driver, and my reasons for believing he hadn’t killed himself; he admitted that he had serious doubts about it himself.” He quickly reviewed the reasons underlying the coroner’s doubts. “But again, as in the case of the truck driver, his conclusions were purely speculative and he did not feel justified in putting them in his official report. However, he did agree to hold up his report until tomorrow to give me a chance to come up with some corroborating evidence that Closter had been murdered.”
“And have you?” Hollander asked succinctly.
“Nothing definite, I’m afraid,” he replied. “But, before leaving the hospital I called my office and found that Mrs. Closter had called earlier and left a message asking me to come to see her again.” He turned to face Dan. “Gladys also told me that you had been trying to reach me, but I thought I’d better find out what Mrs. Closter wanted to see me about first. I knew-or could guess-what you wanted.” Dan smiled but said nothing so he swung back to Hollander again. “I was hoping that she had found a note or something of the sort but it turned out that she had only remembered that when Flynn-the first deputy who arrived at the house after she called in to report finding her husband-when he got there, he went directly to the basement entrance and she had to go down there to let him in. She also recalled that neither him nor Bucheck thought to ask her if her husband had left a suicide note. I tried to convince her that it was probably just their-police experience or lack of imagination, or both, but I’m not sure I convinced myself.”
He felt no satisfaction in lying so blandly about his meeting with Mrs. Closter, even though he could see that he had still managed to implant the seed of suspicion in Hollander’s mind about the two deputies, without revealing the existence of the pictures. The FBI man made a few notes in the open notebook he still held in his hand, and looked up expectantly.
“That’s about all there is to tell,” he said. “Mrs. Closter seemed to want company, so I stayed and had lunch with her until she had to leave to pick up her sister at the airport. Afterwards, I drove home and called Dan.”
All three of them seemed surprised-and disappointed-at the abrupt ending to his story of what he had been doing during the past two days. He had, of course, been purposefully vague about some of his activities and knew that, in particular, it would be difficult to account for his time earlier in the day if Hollander chose to question him about it more closely. He especially regretted the necessity of concealing the truth from Dan. If the other two were not there, he thought he probably would have told him everything-even about Elise. But, he was glad that he had been able to get through the whole story without dragging her into it, or revealing the facts about Wanda and Mrs. Closter’s discovery of the Polaroid matrices.
“You’re sure that’s all you have to tell us, Mr. Tuesday?” Hollander asked with ill-concealed skepticism.
“We were hoping you had something.something more specific for us to go on, Mark,” Dan said, almost wistfully.
He leaned back in his chair, turning his palms upward. “I’m sorry, Dan. But, that’s all I can tell you for now.” It was more truthful than saying there was nothing else he could tell them, but it was still dissembling, and it did not fool Hollander.
“I’m not sure I believe you, Mr. Tuesday,” he said softly.
He shrugged. “That’s too bad, Mr. Hollander. But, whether you do or not, it doesn’t change my answer.”
Hollander returned his gaze steadily. “I’ll concede that you’ve discovered some things about the deaths of the driver and Closter that we should have known or at least, suspected. And, that you’ve raised some very interesting possibilities regarding the sheriff and his deputies that we’ll look into. But, if your suspicions are correct, then you could be getting dangerously close to exposing them-dangerous to you, that is. There’s nothing more vicious or treacherous than the proverbial cornered rat.”
He recalled what Phil had said and realized the FBI man was only giving him the same kind of warning-using a different simile, and for a different reason-but for the same purpose. He gave him the same answer he had given Phil. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“He’s right, Mark,” Dan said. “The people running this operation are not amateurs and they have a big investment to protect. If you’re right, then they’ve already demonstrated with Haggerty and Closter just how far they’re willing to go to do so.”
Dan and Hollander were both right, of course. Maybe he was taking unnecessary risks, but he had gotten this far on his own and was sure that all he needed now was a chance to talk to Wanda and-if the pictures turned out as he hoped-he would be able to give them enough evidence to convict Bentley, Flynn, Bucheck and Grossman-and one of them was bound to talk and reveal the identity of Mr. In-Between. But, he smiled gratefully at the Irishman for his obvious and genuine concern for his safety.
“Thanks, Dan. I have an investment to protect, too. But, if I need any help, I know who to call.”
He was relieved when he saw that Dan recognized that they were not going to get any more out of him for the present and turned to the other two. “I think we’ve taken up enough of Mr. Tuesday’s time for now, gentlemen. I’m satisfied, if you are.”
He stood up and walked to the closet to get their coats. Hollander stared at him pensively for a few moments longer before apparently reaching the same conclusion as Dan. Atterbury’s mouth kept opening and closing with unspoken questions, a blend of indignation and confusion fighting for dominance over his heavy, purplish features. Dan hung back momentarily as the other two took their coats from him and left the office. Gripping his hand firmly, he grinned up at him, a hint of the Irish brogue creeping back into his voice.
“I don’t know what yer up to, me bucko, but be careful. There aren’t too many of us left y’know.”
He grinned back. “I know, Dan. And I’ll act accordingly.”
He watched the three of them exit through the outer office door before he realized that Gladys was still sitting behind her desk. He had heard the sound of the door opening and closing earlier while he was still in the midst of his narrative, and had assumed that both she and Dolores had left together, as they usually did, since it was then the normal closing time. Now, the clock above the door showed it was almost five-thirty.
“I stayed in case you needed me for anything, Mr. Tuesday,” she said, seeing the question on his face.
“Thank you, Gladys. But there isn’t anything. You should have left with Dolores.”
“Mr. Wozniak called about a half an hour ago. He would like you to call him back.”
“I’ll call him later.” He started to turn to re-enter his office but suddenly thought of Marie and turned back again. “Gladys, has.. .have you heard from Mrs. Tuesday in the last day orso?”
She looked at him blankly but her consternation at being asked the question-and its implication-was registered in her eyes. Although he was sure that she suspected that all was not well between him and Marie, she never gave the slightest indication that she ever thought about it. Now, she seemed slightly embarrassed-and concerned-by the necessity for his inquiry.
“Err.no sir. Did.. .did you expect her to call the office?”
He was sorry he had asked-and angry with Marie for making it necessary. “No. It’s all right, Gladys. It’s not important. Forget I asked.” But, of course, he knew she probably could not forget.
He walked back into his office and sat down behind the desk. He waited, shuffling idly through the papers in front of him until he heard her call. “Good night, Mr. Tuesday”, and the sound of the outer door closing behind her. Then, snatching the phone off its cradle, he angrily punched the buttons for his home number, listened impatiently until it had rung for the tenth time and slammed it down again.
“With everything else I have on my mind,” he muttered aloud, “why the hell did she have to pick a time like this to disappear?”
Putting her out of his thoughts again, he took a few moments to let his anger cool before picking up the phone again to call Elise.