When Simms knocked on the glazed door of Max Roth’s office, a small ruddy-faced man with a long white beard and blue glistening eyes opened the door and doffed his black fedora. He was attired like the clerk.
“I was told you could help me,” Simms said when she stepped inside and identified herself. She handed Max the receipt. “I’d like to know more about this. Police investigation.”
Max Roth shrugged and gestured to a chair next to his roller-top desk. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He gazed at the receipt as he lowered himself into his roller chair which creaked under his weight. “Is there something wrong?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out,” Simms said. She sat and placed her business card on Roth’s desk.
Max eyed the detective, setting aside an open ledger that lay atop a pile of bills bound by a rubber band next to a computer. “Excuse the mess, I still have to plug these into our database.” Roth tapped the pile with the pads of his fingers. He returned his attention to the receipt. “Aha! I remember this,” the jeweler finally said.
Simms arched her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“The original purchase, a lady’s diamond Movado watch, was bought by this gentleman client of ours who always paid in cash and—”
“What was his name?”
Roth massaged his forehead. “I, eh… don’t know.” He gazed at Simms with soft, moist eyes. He gave a smile—a patient smile.
“Young lady, when a man his age buys so many expensive baubles so often, you know they’re not for his wife. So you do the obvious thing and don’t ask questions.”
“How old was this man?” Simms said.
“Oh, maybe late forties, early fifties. I’m not very good at guessing ages,” Roth said.
“When was the last time he was in?”
The old jeweler chortled and raised his hands. “Oy, my memory is not as good as it used to be. But he was a regular for about a year. I haven’t seen him for over eight months. Always purchased the finest and in cash.” Roth emphasized the last word cash. Then he turned to the computer keyboard and clicked a few keys. His eyes, beneath his dark closely-knit eyebrows darted across the flickering screen. A spreadsheet appeared and Roth sat back in his chair. “Here it is,” he said with pride.
Simms pushed her chair closer to the desk and looked at the screen. Next to a date was an entry for the purchase of the Movado for two thousand dollars in cash. When she shifted her eyes to the next line, she saw that Lacy had exchanged the watch for a diamond tennis bracelet the next day. The detective reached inside her purse and drew out a folded copy of the New York Times picture. She placed it on the desk in front of Roth.
“Do you see your client in this photo?” Simms asked.
While Roth slowly examined the picture, Simms watched him, for any sign of recognition in the old man’s face. Suddenly, she noticed Max’s eyes flare for an instant and his right cheek twitch.
“Which one is it, Mr. Roth?”
The old man tipped the fedora back and passed the palm of one hand over his creased brow. “I’m sorry, but it’s none of these people.”
Simms maintained her gaze on Max Roth. “Funny, I would’ve sworn you recognized someone,” she pressed. “Can you at least tell me what he looked like?”
Roth squirmed in his chair and moistened his lips. “He was tall… very distinguished looking.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “Oh my, I’m afraid that’s all I remember. That’s what happens when one gets old,” He smiled tightly.
Simms rose from her chair. “It’s only been eight months since you saw him, and before that you said he was a steady customer for a year. Your memory can’t be that bad,” she pressed.
“My dear, I’ve seen so many people by the end of a day, customers, buyers, colleagues… as you’ve noticed we’re very busy. It’s impossible to remember everyone’s face with any detail.
Besides, I wasn’t the only one who tended to him.”
“Who else?”
“I’m sorry, young lady, but I don’t remember.”
Simms leaned in and gave the jeweler her best NYPD intimidating stare.
“I think you should know we’re investigating the murder of the woman who made the exchange. You may have read about the case. A Lacy Wooden found brutally murdered?”
Roth’s eyes widened. “Oy vey! So, that’s who she was.”
“She was murdered the day after she exchanged the watch,” Simms said.
The old man swallowed hard and rolled his chair to face the detective. “But I thought the murderer had been caught.”
“A man was, but he was recently exonerated, so the case is still open,” Simms said. “I still find it strange that you didn’t think it peculiar having someone pay such large amounts of cash.”
Max chuckled. “Not at all. Many of our customers pay in cash. Frankly, I prefer it, less paperwork… just like the old days,” he said. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”
Simms’s eyes swept through the small cubicle. “I’m curious as to why you’re not in the Diamond District. I mean, this isn’t exactly a high-brow neighborhood.”
Roth grinned broadly. “Precisely. Less competition and lower rent.”
The detective nodded and stood. “Thank you for your time, sir. I’d like a detailed list of all the purchases this client made. My email address is on the card.”
When Simms left the Haifa Diamond Exchange, she knew that sweet Max Roth had played her for a patsy. Despite his attempts at seeming to be a doting old man with a short memory, the momentary flash in his eyes and the facial twitch told another story.
In another part of Manhattan, the green recording light of an answering machine in a dark, empty room glowed while it recorded the message that came through the machine’s speaker. “It’s Max. The police were here today and showed me a newspaper picture with you in it. Don’t worry, I was like a dead person and said nothing. Just thought you should know.”
When the machine stopped recording, the door opened and a wedge of light carved its way into the room. A silhouetted figure stepped into the light, crossed the room and pressed the ‘Replay’ button. When the figure finished listening to the message, the ‘Erase’ button was pressed.
“Alice,” Hernandez said, “do you realize that if you’re right it could be anyone in that photograph— Shilling, Judge Corbin, or even Greg Saunders. They all more or less match the age of this mysterious cash customer.”
Simms sat upright in her chair and faced the sergeant. “I’m tellin’ you Max Roth’s face lit up when he saw the photo.” While Simms detailed her encounter with Max Roth, a thoughtful, silent Moran sat in a swivel chair at his desk gazing out of the office’s meshed window at the Municipal Building. He was weighing her every word and visualizing her meeting with the old jeweler.
At the time when Commissioner Newbury decided to increase Moran’s staff, the lieutenant immediately thought of Alice Simms over at Missing Persons. He knew her analytic mind was being wasted looking for persons who had gone missing without having committed any crime—usually people