Louise's Blunder (16 page)

I did. It was Hughes’ wallet all right. Hughes’ driver’s license was inside, as was his draft card (stamped ‘II-A’ – exempted because of necessary civilian occupation), a couple of receipts and four dollars.

‘Where did you find it?’ I asked, handing the wallet back to Royal.

‘A park ranger who oversees the Tidal Basin area called me this morning. I’d left a business card with him. Someone found the wallet under a park bench and turned it in.’

‘You’re kidding!’ I said. ‘It’s been there all this time?’

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It would have been found by now, as busy as the Tidal Basin area is.’ He turned the thin beige wallet over and over in his hands. ‘The person who murdered Hughes planted it there. Recently. Like in the last couple of days.’

My skin crawled just thinking about the killer wandering around the Tidal Basin until no one was in sight, then dropping the wallet.

‘I don’t understand why,’ I said.

‘He’s hoping that we’ll think Hughes simply lost the wallet. Which would support the notion that Hughes’ death was an accident, that he hadn’t been deliberately stripped of his identification. I’m sure my superiors will buy into that explanation. After I’ve dropped you off I’ll take the wallet to my precinct, where it will join the other evidence in Hughes’ closed file.’

I couldn’t take my eyes off the wallet. ‘What are you going to do now?’ I asked.

‘Try to convince you to help me find Hughes’ girlfriend.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I can’t get further involved in this. I just can’t.’

Royal didn’t argue with me. He stopped at Washington Square so I could walk to ‘Two Trees’. By the time I got inside the door my nerves were jangling. I sank into the hall chair. Henry heard me and came out of the lounge.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked. ‘You look done in.’

I was done, all right.

‘I’m OK, just tired.’

He shrugged and went back inside the lounge.

I dragged myself upstairs and made myself a very strong Martini. I trusted Royal not to involve me now, no matter what happened. I might be in the clear.

After another Martini I went downstairs to dinner, where we all feasted on Dellaphine’s chicken pot pie. It was one of my favorite meals even before rationing began.

Milt wasn’t at dinner. I hesitated to ask about him, but Phoebe volunteered.

‘I’m so pleased,’ she said. ‘Milt went out with some friends from college who heard he was in town. They’re going to have drinks and dinner at the Metro Club. One of his friends’ father is a member.’

‘That’s great news,’ Henry said. ‘He should get back out into the real world. Lots of veterans have bad war wounds. He needs to snap out of it.’

‘I don’t think it’s that easy,’ I said. ‘None of us can understand what he’s been through.’

‘It’s a first step,’ Phoebe said. And indeed Phoebe herself looked much better. She had some color in her cheeks and ate most of her dinner.

I didn’t spend the evening in the lounge with the others. I was worn out and felt a headache under way. It felt to me as if the weather was changing. Another spring thunderstorm must be on its way.

The next morning I was the last to get to the dining room, only to see Milt there, working his way through a plate of eggs and bacon. He was dressed and shaved.

‘Want me to butter your toast, dear?’ Phoebe asked.

‘No thanks, I need to learn to do it myself,’ Milt said. Using the side of the plate to brace one edge of the toast, he gently spread it with butter. Once the toast slid off the plate, but he just smiled. ‘Butter side up,’ he said, replacing the toast on the plate and finishing the job.

I wondered what had happened to cheer Milt up. I found out when he followed me into the hall and insisted on helping me with my coat. ‘This is something else I need to learn to do,’ he said. ‘Must impress the ladies!’ Then he whispered into my ear. ‘I got my papers yesterday,’ he said. ‘I got an honorable discharge! I don’t know why, but I am not protesting.’

‘I’m so glad, Milt,’ I said.

‘Now I have a chance to make something of my life,’ he said. ‘I’ll pick up a Purple Heart at a pawn shop to make Henry happy.’

I felt like a new person at work. Now that I was relieved of the pressure of Royal’s threat to report me to OSS I felt like my old self. I applied myself with vigor to summarizing a twenty-page report on the movements of a fleet of Nazi tanks at a base in France. At night the young French woman who cleaned the nearby German barracks climbed over the ten-foot wire fence to record the serial numbers and odometer readings of all the tanks parked there. Much of the report was in French, but it was basic enough that my high school French was adequate to the task.

Tired of the OSS cafeteria I’d brought a cheese and pickle sandwich and a thermos of milk from home so I could spend my lunch hour outside in the warm spring air. I leaned my back up against a tall sugar maple drooping with clusters of chartreuse flowers and gazed south-east toward the Tidal Basin. I couldn’t see it, but I could picture it surrounded by cherry trees in full leaf. Such irony, that it was one of the prettiest parts of the District due to a gift from the Japanese government. True, that gift was made over thirty years ago, but still. I wondered if after the war the United States would ever have cordial relations with Japan again. It seemed doubtful to me.

I was watching the horizon darken over the Potomac, a harbinger of that spring thunderstorm I suspected was on its way, when Clark Leach spoke to me.

‘I’m intruding on your lunch hour,’ he said.

‘It’s OK,’ I answered, climbing to my feet and smoothing out my skirt.

‘We might want to go on inside,’ Clark said. ‘It looks like rain.’

‘I think it won’t arrive until later tonight. We can use the rain,’ I said, thinking of the corn and peas sprouting in the Victory Garden out in back of ‘Two Trees’.

Clark walked me back to my building. He took my arm as we started up the stone steps. Again I detected no romantic spark between us. So odd that he sought out my company this way. The thought that he was vetting me for some kind of promotion or mission at OSS crossed my mind again. I hoped I was making the right impression. And thank God Sergeant Royal and I had ended our partnership without compromising me!

‘Can you come out with me tonight?’ Clark asked. ‘Rose and I have someone we’d like you to meet. He’s a friend of ours. The plan is to meet him at Rose’s and then go out to eat somewhere. Sadie’s working tonight, but Peggy might come.’

‘I don’t usually go out on a week night, Clark,’ I said.

‘We won’t be out late. After dinner I’ll take you home. And we’ll leave early, directly from here, if that’s OK. Our friend wants to meet you.’

On the off chance that Clark was testing me I decided I should say yes.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Meet you on the usual corner.’

‘Clark, you missed the turn,’ I said.

‘No I didn’t.’

‘You just passed Rose and Sadie’s apartment building.’

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I must have misspoken. We’re going to meet our friend at his place. He lives just a little way further along.’

My gut told me something suspicious was happening, and I should have listened to it. I really should have. We pulled up to the Worth Hotel, where Hughes/Anderson had rented his secret room.

‘Here we are,’ Clark said, parking across the street. ‘I know it’s not impressive but our friend is rarely home and you know how tough it is to find housing in the District.’

I collected my things but Clark put a hand on my arm. ‘We need to wait a few minutes. We come separately so as not to pique the curiosity of that awful female custodian. Peggy should already be inside.’ He checked his watch.

Then I saw Rose walking quickly down the sidewalk, her head bent to avoid the rain. She paused at the entrance to the hotel and checked her watch before going on inside.

‘Just a few minutes,’ Clark said to me.

Only an idiot would still think this was a social occasion! What was going on?

As Clark opened my door for me and handed me out I resisted the urge to tear my hand out of his and run wildly down the street screaming for the police. I didn’t know what was about to happen but I was sure I wasn’t going to like it. If Clark was taking me to Hughes’ room, then he must know that Hughes had a second identity, and if so perhaps he had something to do with Hughes’ murder. Unfortunately running away was not an option. After all I did work for OSS and I had to find out what was going on.

‘Thanks, Clark,’ I said, taking my hand from his as I stepped on to the sidewalk. I wanted to be free to bolt if I needed to.

Inside the hotel the custodian’s window was closed, thank God, so she couldn’t recognize me. Clark and I walked up to the second floor and turned down the hall until we got to room 2G, Hughes’ room that he had rented under the name of Anderson. The door was ajar. Inside Rose was laying out a few clothes and personal belongings on the bed. An open suitcase stood nearby. Peggy stood watch at the only window, her hands stuffed into the pockets of a trench coat. She must be expecting rain too.

‘Hi, Louise!’ Rose said, and came over to hug me. ‘Are you surprised?’

‘Yes,’ I said, my voice cracking. I coughed to cover up my nervousness. ‘Where are we?’

‘This is a safe room,’ Clark said. ‘Paul Hughes rented it for us.’

‘I’m packing up the things he kept here,’ Rose said. She loaded the suitcase quickly with the few items on the bed. Among them I noted a key ring that held three keys, a pocketknife and a cigarette lighter. Items that should have been in Hughes’ pocket when his corpse was discovered! I felt myself hold my breath while I looked for a wallet, but I didn’t see one. Did Hughes leave this room with just his wallet the night he died?

‘We’ll need to find a new safe room now,’ Rose said.

‘What for?’ I asked, dreading the answer.

‘Have a seat,’ Clark said. ‘Let us explain.’

I sat on the bed but kept my feet on the ground. I still wanted to be able to bolt. I recalled that there were three exits from the hotel – the front door, the back door and the fire escape, so conveniently located off the end of the hall not far from the door to this room.

‘Don’t look so worried, Louise,’ Rose said, sitting down next to me. ‘We’re your friends.’

‘Louise, in your work you must see all kinds of useful intelligence pass across your desk,’ Clark said. ‘Much of it would be of interest to our friends in the Soviet Union.’

Oh my God!

‘You know the Soviet Union is our ally,’ Clark continued, ‘yet so much is kept from them, despite the critical value of the Second Front. As you know there’s not a single Soviet representative at the Trident Conference.’

Oh my God. They – Clark, Rosie, Paul Hughes, and Sadie and Peggy too – were double agents! Spying for the Soviet Union! And they were trying to recruit me! Now I understood why Clark spent so much time with lowly government girls. They were his agents!

Clark was standing between me and the door, and he was a big man.

‘It’s easy,’ Rose said. ‘And we’re so very careful.’

‘I’ll give you an example of what the NKVD wants to know,’ Clark said. ‘During the Trident Conference today, when I was taking notes for Dr Soong, an American delegate reported that at current production levels it would be impossible for the US to produce the eight thousand five hundred landing craft that would be needed in an invasion of France by next spring. Don’t you think our allies should know that? Shouldn’t the Soviet Union know that the United States and Great Britain might not make the timetable of a spring invasion? How many more Russian soldiers might die on the Second Front then?’

I found my voice. ‘Shouldn’t the President and Director Donovan make the decision on what to share with the Soviet Union?’ I asked.

‘Why is there a Chinese representative at the Trident Conference and not a Soviet one? The Joint Chiefs, the British Field Marshals, Churchill and Roosevelt, they are all making decisions without the Soviets, damn it!’ Clark’s voice rose. His fists clenched and unclenched as he spoke. ‘Do you know why the Soviets are left out in the cold?’ he continued. ‘Western allied leaders are afraid of the Soviet Union. Of the new kind of democracy being born there. One where the people are really in charge. Not oligarchs who have no interest in the ordinary man or woman, except to have them work in their factories and fight in their wars. Roosevelt, Churchill, even de Gaulle are terrified that a socialist revolution will follow the war in their own countries.’

‘I don’t know about this,’ I said, stalling for time while I tried to decide what to do. What would happen to me if I refused? I found it hard to believe that Clark or Rose would harm me. But someone killed Paul Hughes!

‘Louise, it’s so, so exciting to be a part of something this important!’ Rose said. ‘To help our Communist friends! You are a Communist, aren’t you?’

They had mistaken my progressive notions for Communism.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I am not. I’m a New Dealer.’

‘It’s all right to hesitate to admit your allegiances,’ Clark said. ‘Especially where we work, and at your level. I understand. Let me introduce you to someone who will calm all your fears.’

Clark opened the door to the hall and a man stepped into the room. He was the stooped elderly Russian who owned the news and sundries shop. He didn’t look stooped and elderly now. With his modest suit and grey hair combed neatly behind his ears he could have passed as an insurance salesman until he spoke.

‘Louise Pearlie, let me introduce you to our colleague, Lev Gachev,’ Clark said.

‘G’! I had finally met ‘G’!

‘Mrs Pearlie knows me as Lieb Zruchat,’ Gachev said. ‘We met last week at my store. Apparently someone pretending to be Paul’s mother sent a telegram using my return address. Mrs Pearlie’s cover was very convincing. If I hadn’t spotted her when she left Rose and Sadie’s apartment after their last social evening she would have convinced me completely.’

Rose and Clark both stared at us. ‘You’ve met Lev?’ Rose asked.

‘Who sent the telegram?’ Clark asked.

Gachev sat down on the bed next to Rose, who had finished packing Hughes’ things and set the suitcase on the floor. Peggy still leaned up against the window sill, her eyes fixed on the street outside. She hadn’t said a word yet.