"A blue cardboard envelope in a pocket of his billfold. A safety-deposit box key was in it, and there was also a checkbook. You didn't write down what bank the checkbook was from."
"But I remember, sir. I'm sorry I messed up. The bank was the one closest to the college." He gave Mel the name of the bank.
Mel indicated that the officer stay where he was seated, and went down to the workroom where the four officers were still sorting through banks by zip code for efficiency's sake. "One of you start with the bank closest to the college, would you? It might save a lot of hunting."
He went back to his office, where the officer who'd botched the inventory was pacing nervously. "You'll stay here until we know if the safety-deposit box is in the same bank. And you'll do a much better, more thorough job the next
time, won't you? You did search all the pockets of his clothing, I see. If it's the wrong bank, you'll join the other four officers still sorting banks by zip code in room 4B."
Twenty-three
Jane called Mel at his office to tell him about choosing an agent.
He cut her off. "Janey, I'm waiting for an important call on this line. May I get back to you when I'm free?"
"Sure." Jane wasn't offended. She knew when he was this curt, something crucial was happening. Instead she called Shelley to tell her about the conversation with Annie Silverstone.
"You didn't ask what other authors she worked with?" Shelley asked.
"I'll find out eventually. I really liked how she explained her policies. I have Felicity's e-mail address. I'll tell her about this later. Annie wanted two hundred words about my background and interests to send along with the manuscript for Melody to show the marketing people. I need to write it up today."
"Your background is going to surprise them, I'll bet."
"There's another thing I forgot to tell you. Annie wants me to come to New York soon to meet her staff. Want to come with me? We could do some really good shopping and eating."
"That sounds wonderful." Shelley said. "We better set a date and I'll make the plane reservations. Paul has thousands of frequent-flier miles we can use to fly first-class both ways. Have you told Mel about this yet?"
"I tried, but he hung up on me. Something important is going on."
"Did he give you a hint?"
"No. And I didn't dare ask. Are your caterers ready for dealing with a mob? Is it a snack-supper-type thing?" Jane asked.
"No. More like cocktail party snacks. It's later than usual and the students will have time to feed themselves. Not that they aren't welcome to eat. I've ordered extra things that you and I like. Re-heatable, so we can bring any extras home."
"Do we need to dress up? I've been wearing jeans or jean skirts so far."
"I intend to be a little more dressy this evening," Shelley replied. "Just because of Evelyn Chance's extra guests who contributed to the college to fund this. Some of them might be businesspeople who know Paul."
Jane interpreted this to mean, at the least, trousers with a good blouse, and a jacket or a light sweater and even a bit of jewelry.
When they finished their talk, Jane went to her front hall closet, the staging area for her most recent dry cleaning. She was appalled at how many things were in there. She broke down and hauled them all upstairs, ripped off the flimsy plastic, and put them in her bedroom closet, pulling out a pair of good black slacks, a matching jacket, and a pink-and-white-striped shirt. Then she went to her jewelry case to rummage. There was a pinkish opal pin surrounded by silver filigree that needed polishing. And a matching ring. These would look good if they were clean, but she didn't want to waste time polishing them up. She'd just wear her best watch.
She went to the computer station she'd set up on a secondhand small desk that she'd actually refinished herself — almost competently. She wrote up her bio and figured out how to do a word count and was shocked to discover that the bio was 427 words long. There wasn't anything she wanted to cut. And it wasn't as witty and charming as she'd expected it to be. She didn't even save the file. She'd have to start over.
As she rose from the desk to pace around the bedroom while she mentally composed a better bio, she spotted Max, her black, white, and gray cat — the equal-opportunity shedder — washing his paws while reclining on her black trousers. At least he hadn't started to sharpen his claws on the fabric.
* * *
Mel called the Roths' hotel number and said, "I have a court order from a judge to open your son's safety-deposit box. I'm sorry it took me a while, but it was the only way to do it. Neither you nor your wife are signers on the box, so I have to use the document and key. Would you like to meet me at the bank around the corner from the college campus?"
This question flummoxed Harry Roth. He had to write the directions down to the last detail. "I suppose we should be there. I can't imagine what was so important to Denny to hide it away like this. But Aggie and I would like to know. And close out the box so we're not billed."
Mel was surprised that the cost of the box was as great a concern as what was in it. For people who could take month-long vacations, the price of a safety-deposit box shouldn't have mattered.
The bank employee put in her key and turned it. Mel did the same with one that had been found in Denny's billfold. The bank employee left the room.
Mel pulled a bag of latex gloves out of his briefcase and cut it open.
"What are you doing that for?" Mrs. Roth asked.
"Fingerprints. We have no idea what documents are in here. I'll have to look at them first, if that's all right with you." His tone made it clearthat this was the way it would be done no matter what their answer was.
Harry said, "It's okay with me."
Mel pulled out the small box, took one of the enclosures, opened it, and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. He opened the smaller one with a pair of tweezers he'd pulled out of his pocket. He turned to the Roths. "It's his original birth certificate with names of his birth parents. Do you want to read it?"
Harry was firm. "No. We didn't want to know that when we adopted him and we still don't want to know."
Mrs. Roth hesitated, looking at her husband for a long moment. Then said, "I agree. But what is the other paper?"
"It's a photocopy of the same thing. Without the seal. I'll need to keep both of these. If you change your minds sometime, I can provide them to you." He put the documents in a large envelope.
There was another packet at the back of the box — a fat unsealed envelope — which Mel gingerly opened with the tweezers. It was full of cash. He also put this in his envelope. "There's quite a bit of cash," Mel told the Roths. "I'll need to have it fingerprinted before turning it over to you.
"How much cash?" Mrs. Roth asked.
"After it's fingerprinted, I'll have it counted in the presence of myself and two other witnesses
and let you know how much it is as soon as I can. Would you like it converted into a cashier's check and sent to you via FedEx with copies of the witnesses' signatures?"
"How will we know that some of it hasn't gone missing before being counted?" Mrs. Roth asked.
"You'll know because I'm not going to steal it. I'm an honorable person."
Mel removed his gloves and threw them in a handy wastebasket. He put the box back into the slot and turned the key, handing it to Mr. Roth.
"You can take this back to the woman waiting outside the room and I'll sign off on the box."
As it turned out, Denny had already paid for a six-month rental and had only opened the account a month earlier, so the woman in charge gave him a refund check, which he made a copy of and signed over to the Roths.
"I'll be back in touch with you as soon as these are processed."
"Processed? What do you mean?" Mrs. Roth asked curtly.
"Studied for fingerprints, as I already told you," Mel replied just as sharply.