Dear Irene

I tried to open the package with shaking fingers, fumbling with the wrapping until I gave up and ripped the damned paper to pieces.

Frank laughed and said, “Well, I guess that won’t get pressed into the family Bible.”

I opened the small velvet case. Two sapphires and a diamond twinkled back at me. I shut the case and started crying again.

He put his hands around mine and opened it again, took the ring out of the box, and put it on my left ring finger.

“Have I asked you lately if you’d marry me?”

“We’ll check our files. What was the name again?”

I got a bite on the earlobe for that one.

“Yes, I will marry you. Will you marry me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

We fell asleep on the rug in front of the fire, moving to the bed after waking up in a cold room with cricks in our backs and necks, but this is a small price to pay for true romance, which is generally harder to come by than square eggs.

18

HOBSON DEVOE CALLED ME at work early Wednesday morning. “My conscience troubled me after we spoke, Miss Kelly.”

Uh oh, I thought. He’s got cold feet. “Troubled you how?”

“I’ve worked for Mercury for many years. Oh my, I’ve worked for Mercury for more years than you’ve been alive, I’d wager. I decided I wasn’t willing to go sneaking around behind Quincy’s back.”

“Quincy?”

“Quincy Anderson. J.D. Anderson’s son. He’s been the president of the company since J.D. retired. Quincy is my boss.”

His habits of speech must have been contagious, because the sound of my hopes sinking was reduced to a simple “Oh.”

“So I called Quincy and I explained what I wanted to do. He was a little perturbed with me at first. But eventually, I persuaded him that it is in the company’s best interest to allow you to investigate this particular group of records. Can you meet me in the museum at nine o’clock?”

“Yes, I can. Mr. Devoe – I have to admit, you had me worried for a moment.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

“Which entrance should I use to get to the museum?”

“Well, first I should explain one other matter. Quincy did ask that you meet a few of his conditions.”

My worry button was back in the “on” position. “What kind of conditions?”

“Just three rather simple ones. First, he wants us to cooperate with the police. Quincy doesn’t want to deny the police access to information that might help them catch a serial killer. Will this be a problem?”

“In this case, no. I’ll even bring a homicide detective with me today.” So far, Quincy Anderson had saved me some trouble. “What are the other two?”

“Second, he doesn’t want the names of the workers released to the public, by you or the police.”

“I can’t speak for the police, of course. As for the paper, we already know some of the women’s names, both from our own research and from calls we’ve received from children of war workers. So I can’t promise their names won’t be printed. But my purpose in going through Mercury’s files is not to present confidential information about individual workers to the public. I’m just trying to find out why Thanatos is choosing certain people to be his victims.”

“Oh, my. I should have remembered that you already knew three women’s names when I first spoke with you. Well, I’ll talk to Quincy about that.”

“What’s the third condition?”

“Ahem, that you, ah – mention that Mercury was cooperative.”

“If Mercury is cooperative, I don’t have a problem saying so. Whether that kind of statement stays in the published version of my story is up to my editor.”

“Oh, of course. Well, let me talk to Quincy. I’ll call you back in a moment, Miss Kelly.”

ABOUT AN HOUR later, I was meeting Frank outside the museum doors. It had only taken Hobson Devoe about fifteen minutes to call me back to say we had the go-ahead from Quincy.

Devoe was a ski

“This museum means a lot to me,” he said, gesturing with a bony hand toward the models of planes and historical photographs along the walls. “It’s important to know where you’ve come from if you ever want to know where you’re going.” He paused and smiled. “Forgive me. You’re not here to see the museum. We have more pressing matters to attend to – and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful to be included. I am looking forward to helping you. I haven’t had anything this challenging to work on in years!”

We followed him out of the museum, trying to walk as slowly as he did.

If I had seen a big piece of cheese in one corner of the offices which housed Mercury Aircraft’s Human Resources Department, I wouldn’t have been surprised. The place was a maze. Hobson Devoe took a slow but sure path through the cubicles, dividers, and desks, using a key card to open one locked door after another. I suppose it’s easier to find your way around a place after you’ve spent more than half a century there.

We ended up crowding ourselves into a small office with a computer terminal in it. Devoe put on a pair of glasses that magnified his eyes so much I could count his lashes. How the hell had he seen well enough to walk us back here, I wondered? He sat down at the keyboard, then slowly but steadily entered a series of keystrokes. He gri

“Oh, ho! Bet you didn’t think I’d know how to use one of these contraptions, did you?”

“Mercury has records from the 1940s on the computer system?” Frank asked.

“Oh, yes. Unusual, isn’t it? Most places don’t even save those records on paper. But every employee record we’ve ever had is on our system. J.D. Anderson was quite fond of doing statistical studies on perso

That statement raised an eyebrow or two, but he looked between us and said, “Oh, oh, all quite legitimate, I assure you.”

He slowly hunted and pecked a few more keys. Good grief, I thought, Thanatos is going to kill off half of Las Piernas while this old geezer learns to type. “There,” he said with satisfaction. “Now, where would you like to start?”

Frank and I had already discussed this. After some further work on the list of people who called the LPPD, our combined list now had fifteen women war workers’ names on it. But there was a much smaller group of war workers who were unmistakably linked to this case. “With the mothers of the three victims,” I said. “Could we look at Josephine Blaylock’s records?”

Devoe tapped in her name, then moved closer to the screen, its light reflecting off his lenses.

“Born January 11, 1916,” he read, as Frank and I took notes. “Hired October 5, 1942. Widowed. There’s a star here, which indicates that she lost her husband in the war. One child – we could ask about that in those days… oh goodness, don’t let me get started on that subject.”

“What else does it say about her?” I asked.

“Let’s see. She started out at our Los Angeles plant. We had the two large plants then, one here and one in L.A. We had about seven smaller satellite plants as well, in other parts of Southern California.”

“When did she come to Las Piernas?” I asked.

He moved a little closer to the screen. “Transferred to the Las Piernas plant on November 6, 1944. Worked in plating.”

We outlined Josephine Blaylock’s work history, then asked him to look up Bertha Thayer.

“Born June 3, 1918. Hired August 17, 1942.” She was a little younger than Josephine, but as he read on we learned she was, as Hobson had remembered, a war widow. Thelma was her only child. “Started in the L.A. plant,” he went on, “transferred to the Las Piernas plant on November 6, 1944. Worked in several areas, mainly in de-icer assembly, though.”

“Hold it,” Frank said, looking up from his notes. “She transferred on the same day as Josephine Blaylock?”