Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 50, No. 1 & 2, January/February 2005

“Quite right.” Mrs. Mills stood up and reached for her cane. “I just wanted to see this gentleman, the one you said was accused of theft so long ago but didn’t do it. Where can we discuss this?” Mrs. Mills looked at Volanda. “Will you come with us?”

She said, “Si, go to the cafeteria with Mrs. Mills. I should stay here. There might be a... a... change.”

Simon put his lips to the side of Volanda’s head, then walked beside the wiry old lady to the door. She said, “Is the coffee here any good?”

“Not bad. How did you find this place, Mrs. Mills?”

“I asked at the museum for your home phone number and your aunt said you’d be here.”

Simon knew that curious eyes followed him as he and his odd companion entered the packed cafeteria and looked for a cleared table. There wasn’t one, so Mrs. Mills sat herself down in the first empty chair and started pushing dishes aside. Simon said, “Let me—”

“I’ve seen dirty dishes before. Get the coffee, black for me. I want to show you what I found in Dorothea’s desk.”

Simon’s heart did a thump. He went to the urn and poured two cups. When he got back to the table Mrs. Mills was opening her handbag. She pulled out a worn leather book and a pair of glasses and said, “Did they tell you in your instruction course that she kept a diary?”

“They told us she kept a strict record of all her art purchases.”

“I mean a personal diary. I was pretty sure it would still be up in her living quarters to which I have access. Sure enough, it was in her desk. You’re right, this coffee isn’t bad.”

She sipped appreciatively, then began turning the stiff, yellowing pages of the book. Even looking at it sideways Simon recognized Dorothea’s handwriting — it was all over the museum — and now here it was at his elbow about to speak to him before he was born.

“Listen to this.” Mrs. Mills pressed the book open and started to read. “ ‘December 20, 1925. Something very upsetting happened last night after the dinner for the ambassador. Our little stableboy apparently stole the utterly valueless but dear to me napkin ring that Everett bought me on our honeymoon. He ran off with it after a scuffle with a hired waiter. I’m very upset. I like the child. I hope he has the courage to return it. I’ll reward him.’ ”

Simon sat like a statue as Mrs. Mills turned some pages. She read on. “ ‘No sign yet of little Willie. None of the servants seem to know where his home is or I’d go there. I suppose I’ll forget the whole episode in time. Why does it trouble me? Probably because the child was too appealing.’ ”

Mrs. Mills closed the book and picked up her cup. “So you see, she cared enough about the boy to feel bad that he would steal something. Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

“No,” Simon said, feeling worse, “because he didn’t steal anything. Some waiter stuck the napkin ring in a roll and Willie got it by mistake. He tried to give it back but he can’t remember how.” He knew Mrs. Mills was looking at him in bewilderment, but what was the point of going into it? He stood up. “Thanks for coming here, Mrs. Mills, and for reading me that.”

“Simon,” she put her hand on his arm, “I want you to go back to work at the museum.”

He looked at her in astonishment. “I’ve been fired, remember?”

“Not if I say you haven’t.” He believed her. “As the senior member of the board, I have the last word on such matters and I think you should return.”

“No!” It burst from him. “I never want to see the place again!”

Was she pleased that he sounded so shaken? He didn’t care.

“You’re being childish. It’s the ideal job for you. Admit that you love it there.” I did, I did, until... “You just made a silly mistake that didn’t hurt anybody or anything.” She handed him her cup. “Get me a touch more. Besides,” she began to smile, “I rather think Dorothea would agree with me.”

Oh, you don’t know her as I do! She wanted to throw me out!

“So report to the museum tonight for that wedding. Bring that pretty nurse with you. The bride’s grandmother is a friend of mine and we lug all our friends to these things. I get the impression that Volanda — charming name — is special to you. Now, my coffee, please.”

Simon walked to the urn in a turmoil, paid for the coffee, and followed Mrs. Mills down the hall. At the front door she drained her cup and handed it to him, smiling brightly. “See you tonight.”

Volanda said of course he should go. “And of course you’ll go back to work there! She’s a sweetie!” When Volanda was excited her brown eyes had lights in them. “Oh, Si, I’m so happy!”

“I’ll only go tonight if you will.”

She thought for a minute. “Sure, I’ll come later if your mom or Aunt Hannah can come here.” She put her arms around him. “Si, don’t laugh, but it’s almost as if Mrs. Fox-Nugent knew and was trying to make it up to Willie.”

But he was sick at heart because Mrs. Fox-Nugent still thought he was a thief.

Simon loved to see the museum lit up for Christmas. Add a wedding and, wow.