“Done what?”

He looked a little confused. “Walked away from him like that.”

“Why do you think she did?”

He shrugged. He was sitting behind his desk again, a desk as cluttered as his partner’s was empty. “What else could have happened? I heard they went to the Thanksgiving Day parade and she walked away.”

“You think she just kept walking?”

“It’s not very likely someone grabbed her, is it?”

“It’s too soon for me to say what is and isn’t likely. Do you have any idea where she would have gone if she ran away?”

“Not a clue.”

“Do you know where she was from?”

“She was living in New York when she worked here. I couldn’t tell you whether she was a native or came from somewhere else. She didn’t sound like a New Yorker, but maybe she was from upstate.”

“Was she friendly with anyone in the office?”

“Uh, yes, there was someone. Susan, I think. Susan left before Natalie got married. I don’t know where she is now.”

“Susan Diggins,” I said.

“That’s the one.”

“Anyone else?”

“We all knew her. I just wouldn’t call anyone else a friend of hers, but I could be wrong. I don’t always know what goes on after hours.”

“What concerns me is that information from Natalie’s file seems to be missing.”

“Have you seen the file?”

“No. Arlene Hopkins told me.”

“What did she say happened to it?”

When someone starts asking me the questions, I get the feeling they’re checking out my source, perhaps trying to shape their own answers and not put themselves or anyone else on the spot. “Can you tell me what happened to those papers?”

“Which papers exactly?”

“Her references, her record of previous employment, her education. I would imagine you wouldn’t hire someone off the street if you were a new business with limited funds to throw around.”

He gave me a smile. “You know, that’s exactly what we did. We put a very clever ad in the Times—we did the ad ourselves—and we did the interviewing and we made all the decisions. We were pretty much our own personnel department, and to tell you the truth, in the old office, we kind of policed the grounds, too, if you know what I mean. We couldn’t afford a cleaning service, so it was do it yourself or live knee-high in dust.”

I don’t know why I liked him, but I did. He had managed for several minutes now not to answer my question, but there was something very appealing about his manner, as there was something very forbidding about Arlene Hopkins’s. “But she wrote to you applying for the job and she supplied you with references,” I said, not asking.

“I guess she must have.”

“And those papers are missing from her file.”

“Yes.”

“What happened to them, Mr. Jewell?”

“They disappeared a long time ago,” he said.

Finally. “How long ago?”

“Years.”

“Can you tell me the circumstances?”

“Wormy was—that’s Mrs. Wormholtz, who brought you in here—she was looking for something in the personnel files and she found Natalie’s almost empty. All the things you mentioned were gone.”

“So there had been records in the file.”

“There had been records.”

“Was Natalie working here at that time or had she left?”

“She was working here.”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“Wormy did.”

“And?”

“And Natalie was upset.”

“Did she have any idea why someone would want to raid her file?”

“No idea at all.”

“Was anyone else’s file raided?”

“I think Wormy made a spot check and found things pretty much in order. She’s a great office manager and she really took it personally that her files were incomplete.”

“Did you ask Natalie to replace any of the missing papers?”

“Wormy probably asked her. I think she said she’d try to get copies, but I don’t think she ever did.”

“Was there evidence of a break-in before this happened?”

“We’ve never had a break-in.”

“Who interviewed Natalie before she came to work here?”

“I did. I told you, we—”

“I understand,” I said, sparing myself a repetition. “Only you?”

“She was going to be my secretary. Arlene didn’t have to approve. I’m sure Wormy talked to her, too.”

I hadn’t realized that Natalie had been Martin Jewell’s secretary. “Then Natalie worked only for you?”

“Listen, we opened in disarray and we progressed to chaos. Nominally she was my secretary, but she did work for anyone who needed her. Like Wormy. Natalie could do anything.”

“Did Arlene Hopkins have someone like that working for her?”

“She found someone, yeah.”

I was getting strange feelings of incomplete answers and withheld information. “Was Natalie still your secretary when she left to get married?”

“You know, our whole present structure is different. It’s evolved a lot from those early days. Natalie hadn’t been my private secretary for a long time and I don’t really have one now. We don’t need one anymore, now that we’ve got a whole pool of people.”

“Mr. Jewell, who do you think took those documents out of the file?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who had access to the personnel files?”

“All four of us did, Arlene, Natalie, Wormy, of course, and me. We were like charter members of a club.”

“So any of the four of you could have stolen those documents?”

“I guess so. Or someone hired later who got into Wormy’s office while she was out of it.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Maybe there was something there someone didn’t want us to know.”

“Like what?”

“Like who she worked for before she came here, but don’t ask me why because I don’t know.”

“Or what high school she went to or where she used to live.”

“You can make it anything you want. I don’t know what was in that file. I looked at it once, maybe five years ago when I interviewed Natalie, and I never looked again.” He glanced at his watch and I knew I had used up my promised fifteen minutes, and then some.

I wrote my name, address, and phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

“I know the drill,” he said. “If I think of anything, you’ll hear from me.”

“Would you mind if I talked to Mrs. Wormholtz?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t mind at all. She probably remembers a lot more than I do. I think she sends birthday cards to everyone who works here. Shall I call her?”

“I’d appreciate it.” I got up and took my coat off the hook while he telephoned. At least he was letting me talk to Wormy. Arlene Hopkins had done her best to keep us apart. It had to be Hopkins who had prevented me from talking to Wormy last Friday.

“She’s on her way.” He was on his feet, extending his hand. “Look, anything I can do to help, let me know. Natalie was one of us, we all liked her, it took three people to replace her, and we’d all like to know what happened to her.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

There was a knock on the door and Wormy came in. “Right this way,” she said, sparing no extra syllables.

I followed.

11

Her office was windowless, perhaps to give her more wall space. It was not a place for a claustrophobic. Old-fashioned metal file cabinets stood side by side, effectively covering the walls from the floor to about five feet above it. On top of some lay stacks of unfiled folders; on others there were photographs and objects that looked like the handiwork of children. I sat in the single extra chair and Wormy plopped into her desk chair with a sigh.

“What can I tell you?” she said.

“When did you come to work for Hopkins and Jewell?”

“Am I on trial here?”

“No one’s on trial, Mrs. Wormholtz. I’m just trying to organize my information into a rough chronology.”