“Yes, ma’am,” Petra said in American fashion. “If that is all, then I will go now.”
Eva watched her leave. She doubted that Petra knew anything about her mistress’s real purpose in Washington. In Petra’s eyes, the former movie star must have seemed nothing more than a dissolute and immoral woman. The girl had certainly never seen the radio under the eaves because Eva kept the attic door locked. Eva had no intention of finding out how well her Polish servant girl kept secrets. But seeing the eagerness in Petra’s eyes when asked to deliver the package for Ty reminded Eva of an American expression. You catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar.
She called the girl back. “Petra, you have been so good to me. Sometimes I am slow to show it. Take a little extra money from the can in the kitchen and buy yourself some magazines or else go see a movie. I can manage dinner myself.”
Petra brightened. “Thank you, Frau Von Stahl.”
The girl left again and Eva felt better, even though the price of a few magazines was unlikely to buy much in the way of loyalty. Unfortunately, Eva could not afford much more. But it was better to have Petra’s head filled with thoughts of Hollywood gossip and movie stars than to have her wondering about Hess.
Chapter 12
Petra practically raced to the Metropolitan Hotel. In all the time they had been in Washington, she could not recall having the afternoon off during the week. Now she had a bit of money in her pocket and some time to herself. Frau Von Stahl was not a difficult boss, but she could be tiresome. Petra welcomed a few hours of freedom.
There was always so much going on in the city, and she liked to see as much of it as she could. She passed store windows, ogling the goods on display. She had heard people complain about the rationing and shortages, but even in the midst of a war, there seemed to be an abundance of everything from food to cars, as long as one had money. Petra would have liked to buy most everything she saw.
She noticed a few of the younger soldiers — and some not so young — look at her with open interest. Petra smiled at them and looked away. The city was full of young women who had come to work as clerks and secretaries. Petra caught a glimpse of herself in a shop window. Blue eyes, high cheekbones, blond hair. She was not bad looking. Back in Berlin, she had easily passed herself off as German — at least until they heard her Polish accent. Here, the boys did not care about that. In America, she had learned that being Polish was even something to be proud of.
Unlike her mistress, she was modest and shy around men. She had gone on just two dates, both times with Josh Mead, who delivered groceries to the house. He was a nice enough boy who smelled of soap and chewing gum. Their second date had ended with a lingering kiss like the ones Petra had seen in the movies. He was off in the army, bound for Europe now that he had finished his training. They still exchanged letters. That had been the extent of their romance, though Petra doubted one could even call it that. She wondered if she would see him again when the war was over — if he survived. Every day the newspaper was filled with the names of the dead.
Pushing such thoughts from her mind, Petra took a deep breath of the crisp air and walked on. She reached the hotel entrance, which was busy with people coming and going. She passed a woman wearing a fine fur coat, which only made Petra feel all the more self-conscious in her second-hand coat — a hand-me-down from Frau Von Stahl. But perhaps some aura of the movie star remained because the doorman smiled at her as he held the door for her. Even the clerk behind the hotel count was attentive. He took the package, explaining that Captain Walker was out but could collect it when he returned. Disappointed — she liked the energetic young officer — Petra thanked him and went on her way.
Her errand completed, she continued to stroll down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the capital. She had no particular destination in mind. She was trying to decide between a movie — or perhaps a pastry and a cup of coffee — when she saw a familiar face come out of a house. Hess. Petra froze and her sunny mood evaporated. He was just about the last person in Washington that she wanted to see. Much to her relief, Hess did not notice her but turned and walked down the street with his back to Petra.
She slowed her pace until he was almost out of sight, then lingered in front of the house she had seen him leave. What was he doing there? In the front window, she saw the hand-lettered card advertising “Rooms for Rent.” Had Hess found another place to live without informing Frau Von Stahl? How curious. Petra might have walked on, but she thought how pleased her mistress would be if she came back with some nugget of information about what Hess was up to in the city. Her reward might be even better than a movie ticket and an afternoon off.
Petra hesitated before the door. She glanced down the street to make sure that Hess was gone. She knew some things were better left alone, but if Hess was going to cause trouble for them, she wanted to know about it. Besides, she could always tell whoever answered the door that she had come to enquire about a room. She took a deep breath, then gathered her courage and knocked.
“Yes?” A middle-aged woman opened the door. She appeared soft and grandmotherly, not at all what Petra expected.
“Is Mr. Hess here?” she blurted.
“Hess? There’s no one here by that name, dear.” The woman did not look at all put out, which reassured Petra. “When I heard the door I thought it was Mr. Brinker coming back. He left just a minute ago.”
“Mr. Brinker … that was who I meant,” Petra said. “I must have the names mixed up. I am so sorry.”
“My, you have an accent too,” the woman said. “I’ll just bet you work at the eyeglass shop with Mr. Brinker.”
Petra had no idea what in the world the woman was talking about, but she felt rooted to the front step, too far into her ruse to flee without making the woman suspicious. “Y-yes,” she stammered. “I am from the eyeglass shop. There was a package I was to pick up from Mr. Brinker.”
“But honey, he just left.”
“He said he would leave it in his room,” Petra explained. “He was not coming back to work today so I was sent to pick it up.”
The landlady narrowed her eyes. “Not going back to work? Hmm. I hope he’s not off drinking. I don’t care for drinkers under my roof. He was home all day yesterday, you know. He claimed he wasn’t feeling well.”
“I do not know where he is,” Petra said truthfully.
“You said there was a package?”
“Mr. Brinker said that if he was not home then it would be right on top of his bed.”
“I see.” The landlady shrugged, but Petra had the sense that the landlady welcomed a chance to snoop in the so-called Mr. Brinker’s room. “I don’t like to intrude into my boarders’ rooms. But if he said it was going to be there, I don’t see any harm in it. Let’s go up.”
Petra followed her up the stairs. “Has Mr. Brinker been here long?”
“He just moved in, as a matter of fact.”
The room was tucked under the eaves on the fourth floor, which meant the landlady was winded by the time they reached the landing outside the door. She knocked, puffing mightily, but there was no answer. She inserted the key in the lock.
The room was sparsely decorated, with just a narrow bed and a dresser. A chair and table stood in the center of the floor. The room could have been anyone’s. Then Petra spotted a quilt on the bed that had clearly come from Eva Von Stahl’s house. She was reassured that Hess could not be trusted. What else might he have taken?