“My mother is a cousin of Marty Jewell’s mother. We’ve known each other all our lives. I had a lot of experience running business offices, and Marty convinced me to leave a very good job and come to work for him. I was reluctant, but he was very persuasive. I’ve never regretted it. I came to work the day they opened their agency.”

“So you were there when Natalie Miller came for her interview.”

“I set the interviews up. They advertised before they moved into their office. The responses went to a box number. I read them, discussed them with Arlene and Marty, and called the candidates to set up appointments.”

“Do you remember where Natalie was working when she applied for the job?”

“Somewhere in midtown. Maybe a law office, maybe another ad agency. I have a good memory, but frankly, that’s not the kind of thing that sticks.”

“Mr. Jewell said you interviewed Natalie. Do you remember doing that?”

“Very well. She came across as very personable, she had terrific references, she was willing to come in almost immediately, and what I liked about her most was that she said she couldn’t start tomorrow because she had work to clean up at the old job and she couldn’t leave them in the lurch. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but honorable still means something to me.”

It was the kind of comment that touched a sympathetic chord. “Was there a period of time that just the four of you worked for the agency?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, I think there was.”

“When did Arlene Hopkins get her own private secretary?”

“I did her secretarial work at the beginning. I told Marty I couldn’t do it for him because we knew each other so well. So he got Natalie, and Arlene got me. But we all did everything at the beginning. Arlene and Marty knew each other, they’d gotten a hefty account which was enough to get them going, but barely. They scrounged some used furniture, a typewriter, a box of number two pencils, and they opened up.”

“It must have been fun,” I said, some latent entrepreneurial spirit awakening in me.

“It was,” she said with the first hint of a smile. “Those were great days. Every time a new account came to us, we’d holler and scream. We’d go out to dinner and celebrate. There was a lot of good feeling that went around, a sense that we were all in on the beginning of something wonderful.”

“Is it possible that Arlene Hopkins removed the missing documents from Natalie’s file?” I asked, hoping she would give a little now that she was feeling nostalgic.

She looked troubled. “It’s possible,” she said, “but I can’t think why she would. When I say it’s possible I mean that she had a key to the office, she could have come in early, gone through the files, taken what she wanted, and been at her desk by the time anyone else arrived. Or she could have stayed late.”

“I assume everything you’ve said would apply to Mr. Jewell, too.”

“Every word. Applies to me, too, but I didn’t take anything.”

“But those cabinets must have been locked.”

“Miss Bennett, we were using hand-me-down every-things. There were locks with no keys, there were locks that didn’t work. We felt that what was important was our clients’ materials. We didn’t want anyone breaking in and stealing our business and our ideas. Who would want a secretary’s resumé? We saved the locks and keys for the stuff that had commercial value.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t Mr. Gordon’s detective who took those papers last year.”

“They were missing when Natalie was still here. That’s a couple of years ago. More. Those papers were missing a year or so after we opened up. I went to put her first evaluation in the file and I saw it was practically empty.”

“Who else had the key to the office?”

“I did.”

“And—?”

“Arlene and Marty.”

“No one else?”

“No one else was entitled. You can’t go giving out keys and hope to keep your office secure.”

“Did you check any of the references in Natalie’s file?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. She asked that I not call her present employer—that’s not unusual; people don’t want their bosses to know they’re looking for another job—so I called the one before that. I don’t remember who they were, but their reference was glowing.”

“Could Hopkins or Jewell have known Natalie’s employer or former employer? Could there have been something between them that would provide a reason to remove their existence from Natalie’s file?”

“You’re asking me what’s possible. Sure it’s possible. Lots of things are possible.”

She was right, of course. And if there was one item in the file someone didn’t want on record, it would be smart to remove other things so no one would know which piece of paper was the object of the search. “So you think the documents were taken about a year after the agency opened and Natalie started working here.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I discovered they were missing a year later. They weren’t files I checked very often. That stuff could have been taken the day after we hired her.”

“I see.” I hesitated a moment. “Do you get along well with Arlene Hopkins?”

“I get along the same with everyone. I do a spectacular job here as I’ve done in all my jobs. If I rub people the wrong way, they learn how to avoid me.”

It sounded a little evasive, but she was talking about her employer, and I sensed this was a woman with a strong sense of loyalty. “What about Martin Jewell?”

“I’ve known Marty all my life and there isn’t a straighter, more honest human being on the face of this earth.”

There didn’t seem to be any point in continuing that line of questioning, not with a woman for whom honorable meant something. “Are Hopkins and Jewell married?” I asked.

“What makes you ask that?”

Interesting answer. “Curiosity.”

“They’ve never married,” she said, a trifle nervously, I thought “I mean they haven’t married each other. Marty’s married to someone else.”

“But there’s something between them,” I suggested.

“Look, I’m here to answer questions about a missing woman and some missing papers, not about in-house sexual relationships. Ask Arlene if you want an answer to that.”

“It’s not the kind of question I can ask her, and besides, we didn’t hit it off. Arlene tried to prevent me from speaking to you last Friday.”

“Then ask Marty.” She looked at her watch. “Is there anything else I can help you with? I have a full day’s work ahead of me and only half a day to do it in.”

“One last question. You said on the phone yesterday that you knew who took the papers. Who do you think that was?”

“I said I had an opinion. I don’t know anything for sure.” She got out of her chair and went to the most battered of the file cabinets, opened a drawer and pulled out a folder. “This is Natalie’s personnel file.”

I took it from her and looked inside. There was a sheet of paper dated about five years ago with notes written in ballpoint ink and signed MJ, phrases with opinions he must have jotted down during his initial interview with Natalie. Following that was a typed sheet with similar comments by EW. There was nothing from Hopkins, but there were three evaluation forms with comments by all three of the charter members of Hopkins and Jewell, good comments for the most part. The skimpiest were from Hopkins, the most detailed from Jewell. On the last one, done not long before Natalie left to be married, Hopkins noted that Natalie spent too much time on the phone. There was nothing else in the folder.

“Thank you very much for your candidness,” I said, handing the folder back to her.

Then I left.

12