Thirteen Diamonds

this was an omen telling me not to. I would return to my station again.
    But I didn't. I stood in the doorway for a while, eyeing the file cabinet. I found that my brain was running by itself, in problem-solving mode. Where did Carol keep the key to the cabinet?
    She might keep it on her own personal key ring, of course, but that was unlikely. She might keep it in one of the drawers of her desk. I walked around to the business side of the desk and found that all the drawers there were locked. None of the keys on the ring fit these locks, either.
    There was a small refrigerator beside the file cabinet that wasn't locked. I opened the door, but there was nothing inside except a container of orange juice.
    A wooden cabinet was attached to the wall above the credenza. Its four doors had no locks. I opened each one in turn. I saw books and notebooks, but nothing of interest, and no keys. I idly reached my hand up and felt the top of the cabinet, which was at arm's length above my head. The flat board that formed the top was slightly lower than the top edge of the front vertical panel that hid it. As I ran my fingers along this board they came into contact with something hard.
    My fingers closed and I brought a small key ring down to eye level. Sometimes being taller than average pays off. My hands shook as I tried the keys in the filing cabinet lock. The second one worked and the push-lock popped out, startling me. I quickly put the key ring back in its place and stared at the open lock.
    I had solved the problem of opening the filing cabinet. I had met the challenge and now I should quit snooping. I told myself that I was still technically not a criminal. I walked back to the door of the office and took another look around outside. Not a creature was stirring....
    While I had the opportunity I should just find out if I was correct in my assumption about the contents of the cabinet. I pulled open the top drawer. Hanging file folders filled the drawer, with tabs sticking up. The first tab read, “Alt, Lucille.”  Lucille resided at Silver Acres. I was right! These were the resident files.
    The folders were in alphabetical order by last name. What were the last names of the four members of the bridge club lunch committee? My short-term memory failed me again. I couldn't remember any of them. Since there were several hundred folders and I wear bifocals, which are not terribly useful for this kind of work, it would take too long for me to read the labels one by one.
    I did remember Gerald's last name—Weiss. It took me a few seconds to determine that his folder was in the bottom-most of the four drawers. I finally located it and pulled it out. My hands were really shaking now. I placed the folder on top of Carol's desk and scooted back to the door of the office—well, walked back as fast as I could. Still clear.
    I sat down at the desk and opened Gerald's folder. It contained, among other things, the application he had filled out for Silver Acres. His full name was Gerald Fillmore Weiss. He had written his wife's name—Katherine, and beside it “deceased” and a date. His address in California was there, along with the names of several friends he listed as references, who were professors at the University of California at San Diego.
    I came to his medical profile. Under allergies he had listed “shellfish,” just as Carol had said. I suddenly realized that I should be copying some of this down. There was a notepad on Carol's desk, but I didn't see a pen or pencil. I went out to the reception desk and after fumbling around, found a pen in my purse. I grabbed it and hurried back into Carol's office.
    I had to be careful not to write so fast that my handwriting became illegible, especially since my hands still shook. I filled several of the small sheets of the notepad. As I wrote I calmed down and my handwriting improved. I copied information about education, degrees, hobbies, awards—the Nobel Prize being prominent. I didn't want to leave out anything; there was no telling what would be helpful.
    A noise from the reception area broke through my concentration. It sounded as if somebody was entering the front door from outside. I panicked. While trying to close Gerald's folder with my shaking hands I spilled its contents onto the floor. I got down on my hands and knees, desperately trying to sweep them up and replace them in the folder. Some of the papers had sailed under the desk and I had trouble reaching