Every Night at Six Thirty, Bob Drove Away, Until His Other Wife Said My Name
Key W-14, the long brass one with the little notch cut into its head, was gone from the loop.
Only three small silver keys were left on the wire ring.
One of them fit the little brass padlock on the bottom right drawer of his desk.
I slid the smallest silver key into the lock.
The brass tumbler gave a quick click, and the heavy oak drawer rolled open three inches along its track.
In the drawer were three empty manila folders and a folded sheet of blue paper printed on cheap newsprint.
I lifted the paper out into the gray light of the room.