Everybody Wanted Room 623

by Cecil Murphey

  “And that was?” I heard a slight irritation in Ollie’s voice, but I let it go.

  “It was . . .” He paused and thought. “It was, as you would say, he was obsessed with his mission. He was learning our language, and he did not know many words, mostly nouns, but his favorite was almasi.”

  “Which means?” Ollie jumped ahead and asked before Jason had a chance to explain.

  “Oh, it is the word for ‘diamond.’ You see, he sometimes spoke to me in public. He wanted no one else to understand, so he used almasi.”

  “So he was sure someone would try to stop him from returning the diamonds,” I said. “Why else would he do that?”

  “That is true,” Jason said. “He feared that someone would kill him before he could return the diamonds to the proper owners.” He dropped his head and said softly, “And he was correct, and I did nothing to help. I could have stayed in his room perhaps.”

  “He told you that?” Ollie asked, interrupting the African’s reflective mood. “I mean, about returning the diamonds? That it was the important thing he had to do? Are you sure he didn’t plan to sell them?”

  “Sell them? Why would my friend choose to do such a thing?”

  “For money—a lot of money,” Ollie persisted.

  “No, that is not true. Not ever would he do such a thing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “But of course. Would I lie to you? Sir, am I not a Christian?”

  “Okay, okay, I got it,” Ollie said without conviction. “You say you’re telling us the truth, so tell us more.”

  “There is but one thing I must tell you, and I do not know this is so, but it is what I have come to understand.” He paused and wiped his eyes with his hand. “I loved him very much. It’s most difficult to speak of him. Never have I had a friend whom I have loved so much.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and we waited until he was ready to speak.

  The sun had begun to slip behind Stone Mountain, which was to the west. As I watched, it looked as if the sun had begun to melt into the mountain itself and cast rays of pale orange and purple across the skyline. Below us I heard the first cicadas tune up their nighttime instruments.

  “What I do not know is the name of the person my friend feared. Perhaps there were many or only one; I cannot say. I do know that Stefan felt there was one special person—one man who wanted the diamonds. It was a man. Of that I am sure. He was involved in some way with the taking of the almasi—the diamonds. The man who carried the jewels was supposed to have given them to one man—Peters or some such name—”

  “Petersen,” Ollie said.

  “As you say. That was a man who would be suspected because he had robbed before, you see. That act was planned carefully, and this I know from my friend. That man, the one called Petersen, gave the bag of jewels to the woman, and she was to take them to my friend. He would dispose of them. Does that not sound simple?”

  “Very. So what’s the problem?” Ollie asked.

  “I can’t think of the English, but something happened. It is like putting two crosses together.”

  “Double cross?” I asked.

  Jason rewarded me with a huge smile. “That is the expression, yes. The double cross.”

  Slowly Jason told the story. He didn’t know the name, but a man had instigated everything. He was someone who had influence and knew many people, but also, in Jason’s words, “a man of bad character.” This man set up the entire operation and used the woman named Pam Harty to work on Stefan. “You see, to have the diamonds was not enough. It had to be someone who was wealthy and influential enough to sell the stones and not to arouse suspicions.”

  “And that’s where Pam Harty came into this, right?”

  “Oh yes, she was an evil woman—I met her but once, you understand, but those are the words of Stefan. The one who planned all this—and the man’s name I never heard, and I do not think Stefan knew—hired the Harty woman. She spent many weeks, perhaps months, deceiving my friend. He talked many times about being a fool for letting that woman lead him into such a wicked venture.”

  Now it made sense to me. I had liked Stefan, and he seemed like a man of great common sense. That’s not something changed by a religious experience. But if the woman stayed after him and used her charms constantly, okay, now I could understand. His brother had mentioned that Pam Harty had influenced him, but that hadn’t really sunk in until now.

  “So here is the way it was to work. I mean the way the double crossing was supposed to work. The courier was to have two containers—pouches or something—and they were to be identical. One of them contained the real diamonds and the other the imitation. In the airport parking lot, he was supposed to be robbed at gunpoint and surrender to Petersen the imitation. He would later hand the real ones over to the one who planned everything.”

  “How was the transaction to be made? With that man?” I asked.

  “Hmm, on that I shall have to think. Did he not tell me while he was still in prison? It was long ago.” He turned his face upward and stared at the sky for a few seconds and then closed his eyes.

  Ollie sat motionless, but his attention was fully on Jason.

  “Yes, I do now remember. It was an askari—a policeman. Yes, that is how it was to work.”

  Instinctively my gaze shot to Ollie.

  “Hey, we have hundreds of police in the area. I’m only one, so don’t convict me because I’m of the same occupation.”

  I nodded. Of course he was right.

  Petersen, Jason told us, used a gun to hold up the courier—Jeremiah Macgregor. A briefcase was strapped or chained to Macgregor’s arm, and Petersen forced him to take out the pouch of diamonds; then he ran with it. As it turned out, Macgregor became so frightened by the robbery that he panicked and inadvertently handed Petersen the real diamonds.

  As he had been instructed, the courier called the police about the holdup. The policeman who planned the event was on the scene or nearby. That wasn’t clear except that he would be the first official on the scene. Jason said he thought the policeman would say that he was off duty and had been visiting friends near the airport. The robbery took place in the long-term parking lot of the airport in Atlanta. He arrived before anyone else and grabbed the second pouch. He must have looked at the contents, or maybe Macgregor blurted out what had happened. Regardless, the policeman shot the courier, jumped into his own car, and drove away. Jason could not verify that part except to say that he knew there was a woman with the policeman.

  “How do you know that?” Ollie asked. “Lauber wasn’t on the scene, and you surely weren’t there.”

  “The woman came to see Stefan. Perhaps two, maybe three days before the murder. She asked for a—a cutting—a portion—”

  “A cut?” Burton asked.

  “Ah, yes, again. At times my English fails, does it not?”

  “And?” Ollie asked.

  “Oh, he refused. I was there.”

  “You were there?” I asked.

  “Yes, she visited his room and I was present. We had begun to read the Bible together and pray. Her knock at the door interrupted us.”

  “Please tell us everything,” Burton said. “Don’t leave out anything.”

  Twenty

  This is the story Jason Omore told us:

  Each morning, did I not go into my friend’s room? And to some it sounded perhaps strange, but I conducted Bible study. I did not know everything about the Bible, but I taught him what I knew. Some days we read short portions from other books, but we always read at least one chapter of the Bible together. Sometimes I would teach him the African words if he wanted to know.

  I also taught him to sing some of our songs. His favorite was called “Maler, maler ni jogo,” which in English means “Holy, holy are the people,” and it refers to those people who follow God.

  One morning—it was last week, but I do not remember the exact day—we were ready to pray together when a knock came at the door. Stefan and I had been on
our knees beside his bed, so we both got up, and he walked to the door and opened it.

  “Well, this is quite a surprise,” Stefan said. “You’re probably the last woman on earth I expected to see at my door.”

  “May I come in?”

  Before he could say anything, she pushed the door open wide and entered into the room. Truly, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen in my life. Her skin was what I would call flawless—not a blemish anywhere, and she wore little makeup. She was so beautiful that makeup she did not need. She had light-colored hair—blond—and she wore it long so that it broke over her shoulders. I know nothing of expensive clothes, but Stefan did and he stared at her.

  “You must observe what my money has done for this woman,” he said to me. “She has invested it well because she has invested it in herself. She was bewitching before, but she is even more so now.”

  He pointed to her pale blue suit. “This is by Chanel, and the handbag is Hermes, or is it Prada?” He nodded to the woman.

  “Hermes,” she said and smiled. “Oh, Stefan, you are magnificent and knowledgeable and so—so gracious.”

  “Look at the shoes, Jason,” he said and pointed. “Those pumps look quite ordinary to you, but I assure you they are not. Charles Jourdan, obviously, at a cost of at least five hundred dollars. She would never use an imitation.” He stared at her hand. “Chapard? Is that truly a Chapard watch?”

  “But, my dear, you taught me to value the valuable,” she said and smiled. Her smile made her face even more radiant. I think that is the word. But the eyes were sad. They were light blue, almost the color of her suit. If the eyes are the way to enter into the soul, she was sad and a truly poor person on the inside.

  She walked around Stefan’s room, picked up the Bible from the bed. “I heard you had begun to read such literature,” she said and tossed it—how do you say—carelessly?

  She stopped and stared at me as if she had not seen me before, but I knew she had taken in my image when she entered the room. She stood before me and observed me carefully. She stared at my shaved head and slowly traveled down to my sandaled feet. “Is this a waiter? He isn’t properly dressed for the job.”

  “He is my friend. He is Jason Omore.”

  “How nice,” she said and smiled at me. “Now you may leave.”

  I said nothing and began to walk toward the door.

  “He stays.” Stefan put his arm around my shoulder. Stefan was a tall man, perhaps as tall as Mr. Viktor. I started to pull away, but his hand held me.

  “I want to talk to you,” she said softly and went to sit down. She did not stop the smiling all the while.

  “So talk.”

  “I have personal things to discuss with you, Stefan. Very, very personal things.”

  “This man is my brother, my soul brother. I have known him for many months, and I trust him as I have never trusted another person in the world. I have no secrets from him.” Stefan released me, walked over, and sat on the edge of the bed. He indicated he wanted me to sit in a chair.

  As he said those words, I felt my face grow hot. I had not known he felt about me in such a good way.

  “Get rid of him anyway.”

  “I think not.” He walked over to her. “You see, he has gained my friendship. My trust. He is one person who will never betray me or deceive me. I have trusted him with my life, and he has proven faithful.”

  “And I haven’t?” she said. “You’re right. I was weak, Stefan. Weak and afraid, so I ran out on you.”

  “No, you ran because you thought I had the paste diamonds.”

  “That, too, I suppose,” she said, “But I was confused and . . .”

  She stood up and hugged him. Even in her stiletto-thin heels, she was perhaps four inches shorter.

  Stefan was tall, lean, with very dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Momentarily he embraced her. “Hmm, you no longer use Jean Patou fragrance.”

  “This is a designer perfume. Supposedly designed just for me, and no other woman in the world has a fragrance quite like it.”

  Stefan slowly pushed her away. “As it should be. No other woman in the world. Yes, I think that’s a good description.”

  She reached for him again. “I’ve missed you, Stefan. Truly I have missed you.”

  “How nice,” he said. He turned to me. “You have never met Pam Harty, but she was my one true love, the woman who loved me just for myself and promised to stand by me no matter what.” He smiled slowly and said, “After she put her hands around millions of my dollars, she moved on. And now she’s back.”

  “You make me sound so—so awful,” she said. “And I admit I have been terrible, but I want to change that. I’m different. Truly I’m—”

  “Enough.” The tone wasn’t angry, but it was firm.

  She stared at him as if not sure what to say next.

  “So why did you come back?” he said. “You walked away with a fortune in cash—a very, very large fortune.”

  “And I was quite unwise in the men with whom I associated. Two of them in particular were thieves. Can you believe it? They conned me out of my money.”

  Stefan laughed. I wasn’t sure why it was so humorous, but in our culture, we do not believe it is polite for one person to laugh alone, so I joined him in laughing.

  “I despise you,” she said to him. She no longer seemed aware that I was in the room. Or perhaps she did not care. “You are a thoroughly despicable man.” Her words were harsh, but her voice remained soft—the way a woman speaks to a man whom she loves or wants him to think so.

  “That, my former truelove, is honest,” Stefan said. “Your tricks won’t work again, so don’t waste the energy. Tell me why you came to see me.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I came about the diamonds.” She seemed suddenly aware again of my presence. She cocked her head toward me. “Please, tell him to go.”

  “If one of you must leave, it is not my friend, Jason.”

  “I came to talk to you about the diamonds—the ones you still have.”

  “Sit down if you like,” Stefan said, “but my friend stays.”

  “I will leave,” I said. I did not feel comfortable with such conversation.

  “No, stay, please.”

  “Your choice,” the woman said. “Okay, I know you have the diamonds. The word has circulated that you are ready to dispose of them. I want a cut. It’s that simple.”

  “And if I refuse?” Stefan said.

  “I hope you won’t be that foolish. You know what happened to Petersen and to Macgregor. Such sad things happened to other people, as well.”

  With lightning-like speed, Stefan grabbed her arm with one hand, her bag with the other, and rushed her to the door. “Don’t ever come back. You will never get another cent from me.”

  She tried to say something, but Stefan slammed the door in her face.

  After she left, Stefan said he wanted to pray alone—and I left him. That is all I know about her.

  Jason had told us about his meeting with Pam Harty. Although it had been interesting and I had a clearer picture of the woman, he had said nothing particularly enlightening. I wondered if I had wasted my time in wanting to talk to him. I had been so sure he had something of value to tell us, but perhaps I had been wrong. I started to get up and walk away.

  “Why is your face like that of the donkey?” Jason asked. “You are much sad. Did my information displease you?”

  “Oh, not at all—”

  “She means she expected more,” Burton said. “She felt we hadn’t asked you the correct questions and you had things to tell us—information that might help to solve the murder of Stefan.”

  “But I did not tell you everything,” Jason said softly. “Is there not more for me to tell?”

  Twenty-One

  Ollie had listened but said nothing. I glanced at his hands, but they were inside his pockets, although he moved his legs in a slight kicking motion. I wasn’t sure, but I suspected the tremors had begun again.


  “Please, Jason, will you tell us?” I asked. “I’m not even sure what questions to ask, but I feel you know things that we need to hear. Please.”

  “Yes, I can do that,” he said. “Yesterday Stefan and I were again together in his room. We had spent more than our usual hour in reading and studying Romans—chapter 12. He was puzzled by one statement that said to consider others better than yourselves.”

  “Is this important?” Ollie asked. He pulled his hand out of his pocket. The tremors had returned.

  I put my index finger to my lips. “Be patient, Ollie.”

  Ollie got up and paced the area. I didn’t know if that helped or not, but as long as he was quiet, it would be all right.

  Jason told us that a woman came to the door. At first I thought he meant the same woman as before, but then he explained that the two women looked nothing alike.

  What he remembered most vividly was that she held a gun in her right hand, and it was pointed at Stefan.

  “The woman looked at me then,” Jason said.

  “Get him out of here!” she shouted.

  “I went through this once before,” Stefan told her. “I wonder if women coming to my room will be a usual affair.”

  “Get rid of him.”

  “No. He stays.”

  “My gun says he goes.”

  “You won’t shoot me—at least not yet,” Stefan said casually. “You must want something, and it would be utterly stupid to kill me and my friend Jason and have nothing to show for it.”

  She stood in silence and weighed her options. She did not put away the gun, but she did lower it. “Okay, at least make him sit in the corner. This is just between you and me.”

  “Jason, sit across from me. You don’t belong in a corner,” Stefan said. “You know all my secrets, so you might as well know this one. In fact, this is such a secret that I don’t know what’s going on inside her brain.” He turned to her. “I don’t know you, do I? To my knowledge I have never seen you before. But you come into my room with a gun and you start to make demands.”