They began their search in the basement, insisting that Ruth and I stay with them. I supposed they were afraid we would try to hide contraband goods if they gave us free rein while they searched. Ruth hobbled down the stairs behind the three of us. I knew her knee bothered her on steps, but I thought she was really milking the infirmity to show these men how put out she was by their visit. My palms were sweaty. I thought of slipping upstairs to call the factory in the hope Henry would pick up the recently repaired phone, but I didn’t dare.
They finished in the basement and we led them back to the first story. They went room by room, including Ruth’s bedroom, an intrusion over which she huffed and puffed indignantly. Quite honestly, I didn’t think they were doing a very thorough job and that gave me hope they wouldn’t look in the armoire. They peeked in closets and even removed the grillwork that covered the radiator in the living room, but they didn’t bother with drawers or small cupboards and I guessed they were looking for something large—a printing press?—rather than the coupons themselves. I was certain Henry wasn’t printing counterfeit coupons. The thought was ludicrous.
When they’d covered the first floor, they headed toward the stairs and I had an idea. “My mother-in-law can’t manage another set of stairs,” I said, thinking I could whisper to her to call the factory and alert Henry … although she’d probably try to argue with me that he wasn’t there, since she thought he was at a meeting. But my plan quickly fell apart.
“You stay down here with her,” the older man said to the skinny one, who still had not said a word. I thought the younger man must be a trainee of sorts.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Ruth complained, but she walked with an indignant limp into the library, the young agent or whatever he was close on her heels.
I led the man upstairs. “Which is Henry Kraft’s bedroom?” he asked, when we reached the top of the stairs.
I led him into our bedroom, averting my eyes from the armoire. He walked directly over to it almost as if he knew by my behavior that he should begin his search there. He pulled open the mirrored door, but he didn’t bother to touch Henry’s clothing or move it aside and he didn’t seem to notice the leather tab protruding from the false floor. I was relieved when he shut the door. So relieved, I felt a bit cocky.
“You’re really wasting your time, suspecting my husband of anything,” I said. “He’s a wealthy man. He has no need to make extra money, especially not illegally.”
He glanced at me, then returned to his search, opening the closet and peering inside. “With all due respect, ma’am,” he said, “you don’t know your husband very well.”
His words sent a shiver through me. They were so close to those Lucy had spoken just before the accident when she told me I didn’t really know her brother. Back then, I hadn’t known Henry at all, that was true. Now, though, I was certain Lucy had been referring to his relationship with Honor. But what was this federal agent referring to?
I followed the man all through the upstairs, then back down to the library.
“We need to search the garage and that little cottage out back,” he said, smoothing his fingers over his mustache.
“My maid lives in the cottage,” Ruth said. “I will not have her disturbed.”
“Check the search warrant,” the man said to her. “It says we can search all the buildings on the property.”
“And we have a warrant forthcoming to search the factory too.” The younger man finally spoke up, and I knew he’d made a tactical error when the mustached agent shot him an angry look. So, they didn’t yet have a warrant to search the factory. Good, I thought. If Henry was hiding something there, this would give him time to get rid of it. I wished I knew what was really going on.
We left Ruth in the house with the green younger man, while I rousted poor Hattie out of her cottage in her nightclothes. The agent made short work of searching her three small rooms, then led me into the empty garage and shed. I was a bit nervous in those two unfamiliar spaces, especially the shed with its woodworking equipment. I probably wouldn’t know a printing press from a table saw, but the man seemed interested in none of it, and we finally returned to the house, the agent guiding our way by flashlight because it was now dark. Both my feet and my nerves were exhausted.
As they left, the senior agent handed me a card. “Have Mr. Kraft call this number in the morning,” he said. “It’s very important. If he’s innocent, I’m sure he’ll want to clear his good name.”
“Of course,” Ruth said as she ushered them out the door. “Now don’t go spreading any silly rumors about my son!” she called after them as they walked toward their car.
We watched their taillights travel down the road, then Ruth turned to me. “What a humiliating nuisance,” she said. “I wonder why on earth they think Hank could have anything to do with something illegal?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea,” I said. “They probably have him mixed up with someone else.”
“Well, I’m going to bed,” she said. “This was not how I planned to spend my evening!”
I waited until I was certain Ruth was in bed before I called the factory. The phone rang and rang, and I pictured Henry in Zeke’s room with Honor, trying to decide whether or not to bother going into his office to answer. I didn’t hang up though, and on the fifteenth ring, he picked up.
“It’s me.” I spoke quietly, not wanting Ruth to know I was on the phone. “Two men were just here from the…” I couldn’t remember the exact name of the agency. “Someplace to do with price administration? They suspect you of printing counterfeit rationing coupons. They had a warrant to search the house, but I don’t think they have one for the factory. Not yet, at least.”
I’d spoken quickly, breathlessly, and I was sure I’d taken him by surprise. It was a moment before he responded.
“They searched the house?” he asked.
“Yes. But they … whatever they were looking for, they didn’t find it.” I lowered my voice even more. “They didn’t notice anything amiss about the armoire,” I said. “What’s going on, Henry? Are the coupons in the armoire counterfeit?”
“Listen,” he said softly. “I don’t want to drag you into anything. Just … you don’t know anything, all right?”
“I don’t know anything,” I said.
“Let’s keep it that way,” he said. “You said they don’t have a warrant for the factory?”
“They … alluded to the fact one was coming though.”
“All right. Thank you for calling me. I … uh … I need to take care of some things and I’ll be home late tonight. Just…” He sounded distracted. Maybe anxious, I couldn’t really tell. “Thank you for calling,” he said again, and then he was gone from the line.
78
I barely saw Henry the following morning before he left for the factory. I’d been asleep when he got home the night before and he was already dressed by the time I woke up. He sat on the edge of my bed while I stretched and yawned myself awake.
“Thanks again for that call last night,” he said. “Everything’s fine. You don’t need to worry.”