I took out one of my own cigarettes and lit up. “I think I can get the claim through the department for you after you’ve cleared up one or two details.”
“That’s better,” she said. “What are the details? The trunk’s down in the basement if you want to see it. One corner’s smashed in. Splinters of wood ruined my stockings and one of my dresses.”
“Do you,” I asked, “have the stockings and the dress?”
She avoided my eyes, and said, “No.”
I said, “Our records show that while you were in Oakview, you went under the name of Evaline Dell.”
She whipped the cigarette out of her mouth and stared at me with wide-eyed indignation. “Well, of all the snoops! No wonder you’re nursing a black eye! What business is it of yours what name I went under? You smashed the trunk, didn’t you?”
I said, “In adjustments of this kind, the railroad company has to get a valid release.”
“Well, I’ll give you one. I’ll sign it Evaline Dell if you want. My name’s Evaline Dell Harris. I’ll sign it Eleanor Roosevelt if that will help.”
“You’re living here under the name of Harris?”
“Of course I am. Evaline Dell was my maiden name. Harris was my husband’s name.”