Jabber was under my desk, curled in a ball on top of my feet, keeping them warm. I like to keep the office cool. So having a personal dog foot warmer is a perk. Plus, she likes coming to the office. Theoretically, she would meet new people too, if people came into the office looking for a private investigator. Today the only people who we were expecting were candidates for the open receptionist position.
Imogen had managed to set up an interview this morning. I didn't know how she had found the time yesterday to schedule this meeting in between our running around, but she had managed. The only downside to the interview process was that it was taking place way too early.
I like a leisurely morning. Typically, my earliest meeting should be ten. And if I'm being honest, I really don't like to do anything before eleven.
I was sipping my extra large coffee with cream as quickly as I could in order to wake up before candidate zero arrived. Ginny was leisurely drinking her coffee with soy, sitting on the couch, legs crossed, dressed in a cream skirt and white button down-blouse, staring blankly at the wall while I sat at my desk.
"What time is the person coming?"
Imogen looked over at me swallowing, "9:00."
"It's five to nine already. Where is she? It's bad enough I've been here since 8:30. Ticktock."
She didn't seem to care.
"No idea."
We sat staring at the wall, sipping our coffee for the next five minutes. Then, promptly at nine, someone walked into the office. If Jabber hadn't stood straight up, under my desk, exposing my feet to the cool air of the office, I wouldn't even have realized that someone had walked in. I was in some sort of trance. I think Imogen was as well.
"Nice and prompt," Imogen said, standing. "Coming," she shouted.
I guess not. She must have been tuned in the entire time.
"Let's see what you've dug up," I said, walking toward the door of my office.
Imogen ignored me, and we strolled into the reception area.
"Max, Imogen, good morning," she said.
Alese Steiner was standing in front of us in a different pair of perfectly fitting jeans, another T-shirt, and what appeared to be extremely expensive shoes.
"I'm sorry to come by so early, but I didn't think that this could wait," she said.
"No worries, we're always here at this time," I lied.
Imogen shot me a look managing to convey the sentiment that I was out of my mind.
"Would you like to have a seat, Miss Steiner?" Imogen asked.
"Alese," she said. "I think we're on a first name basis at this point."
Imogen chuckled. "Of course, Alese. Please, let's go to Max's office. Follow me."
We all walked over to my office, once again leaving reception empty, and found a place to sit in my sitting area. I avoided the club chair.
"What happened, Alese?" I asked.
She pulled out her cell phone from her Hermes handbag. Fiddled with it for a few moments and then spoke. "Here, listen to this."
Out of the phone's speakers came the sound of a computerized, disguised, distorted voice.
Die, Nazi Bitch.
The voice was slow, articulate, and clear. It was haunting in a way and must have been very disturbing to Alese.
"They called last night. Around ten."
"You didn't pick up?" I asked.
"I had fallen asleep. Didn't even hear it ring."
"At least they were polite enough to leave a message," I said, trying to bring some sort of levity to the situation.
"This is a silly question, but what number came up on the caller ID?" Imogen asked.
"Private number," she said.
"We know they're not stupid," I said.
"We've got to try to trace it, Max," Imogen said.
"Of course we will," I said.
Whoever had called had her phone number and her address. That was what concerned me and what should have concerned her.
"Any idea how they got your cell phone number?" I asked.
"I have no clue, Max. And, to tell you the truth, I'm getting pretty freaked out."
"Alese, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Max."
"I'm not trying to pry or to insult you or your family in any way, but this is a rather sensitive question."
"I'm an open book, Max. Ask away."
Imogen looked at me with a confused expression.
"Was anyone in your family part of the Nazi party?"
Alese's face dropped. The color ran out of her beautiful face. You could sense the tension that she felt. Meanwhile, Imogen almost choked. The way she looked at me made me think she couldn't believe that I would ask her that question point blank. But why not? We needed to know. How else were we going to find out the information?
She shifted in her chair, rather uncomfortably. "That's not something that we discuss, Max," Alese said.
"I appreciate that, but in this case I would say that it's relevant."
"Max, my family is from Germany. I'm a German citizen. You have to understand. World War II is a very sensitive subject. It's not something that we take lightly. Even using the word Nazi is highly charged."
German. That made sense. I all but figured she was from Germany. Not to stereotype but she was tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, beautiful with a very German sounding name. But no accent.
"Alese, I don't think we're trying to upset you or pry. I just think Max thinks it's relevant," Imogen said. "And so do I."
Glad to see that she was on board.
Alese took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Yes."
I couldn't believe my ears. Had she just admitted that someone in her family was a Nazi? I didn't say a word. I just sat there, drawing out the moment. Hoping that she would keep talking.
She continued, "It's not as black and white as it seems. After Hitler came to power, things changed. Things for my family changed. My grandfather was a businessman. He owned factories that produced aluminum cans. But, as the ramp-up to war approached, he was contacted by the SS and told that he was to appear in Berlin to meet with Himmler. My grandfather was terrified. He went so far as to tell my grandmother that, should he not return, she should flee the country. To leave everything, just take the money. He had collected a fair sum of British pounds as Hitler started his ascent to power. He had always feared Hitler and what he would do to the country.
"Then he went to Berlin. My grandmother said that she didn't know if he was ever going to return, but he did. Two days later. He also came with the news that he was now Vice Minister of Business and that his factories were to be repurposed in order to produce rations for the growing army, as well as bullets. He was mortified, but there was no backing out. To refuse such a post would mean death. So, he ran his factories and a number of others that the government seized for the war effort. Always dressed in a suit. Never in a German uniform.
"So, was my grandfather a Nazi? Yes, technically, but once the war started he left everything. All his money, all the factories. My grandfather bribed a ship captain, and they left, under the cover of night. On their way to America. When they arrived they had nothing. That's how much my grandfather had hated Hitler. He hated the Nazi party. Those were different times. Very troubling times. Sometimes in life, Max, you just don't have a choice."
We all have choices. We all have free will. What we choose to do with that free will is what makes each one of us who we are. It is the single most defining factor that separates human beings from everything else that roams the planet.
Mr. Steiner made a choice. But I wasn't convinced that was exactly how it had happened. How would they have gotten the painting out? I was going to go along with Alese and take her story at face value.
"I see," I said.
"Terribly tragic," Imogen said.
Alese looked at both of us. "Thanks. I hope that answered your question, Max."
It did. I agreed with Alese. Those were troubling times indeed. Where one, more often than not, had to make troubling choices.
"Who else out there knows that story?" I asked.
"A handful of close family friends. That's it. It's not something we talk about."
"I understand," I said.
I was trying.
"And you think we can rule those people out?" Imogen asked.
Alese chuckled. "I'm certain we can."
"Well then, it appears that we have our work cut out for us," I said.
It was clear that I had signaled that this meeting was over.
"Yes, of course," Alese said, rising from the club chair. "I'll leave you to it."
I stood. As did Imogen. I extended my hand to shake, and she reciprocated. I wasn't sure she was going to shake it. I couldn't get a read on how she felt about me now that she had spilled the beans about her family's Nazi past. She remained pleasant enough as she shook my hand. She acted the same way that she had when she first arrived. Perhaps it was I who had changed. Maybe my demeanor had shifted in some way. I hoped not, but I couldn't speak for my subconscious.
"I'll let myself out," Alese said.
"Don't be silly," I said.
The three of us walked into reception then Alese exited, leaving Imogen and me standing alone in the waiting area.
"And to think, she could have been our secretary," I said.
Imogen tossed me a sly look. Maybe more like an annoyed look.
"Come to think of it, our interview never showed," she said.
"You just can't find good help these days." I said.
"Very funny, Max."