"I could say the same about you." She sipped once, then slapped her
glass down and stood up, adjusting her sequined gown around her hips,
then leaned over confidently. "I'll soon have you joining my secret
musical soirées, too." She pointed at the table. "Now, don't forget
your five dollars. Let's go make some Christmas music." Jurgen
slipped the bill into his shirt pocket, then followed her out the door
and into the spotlights.
* * * * *
On Christmas Day at eleven, Jurgen checked out of the Charleston
Residence Hotel. Packing took only a few minutes, as he had little in
the way of possessions. When he finished packing, he switched off the
light and set his valise and viola case down outside the door. Leaving
the door open, he went back into the room and, holding a hand kerchief
in his palm, stood on the chair to carefully unscrew the hot bulb from
its socket. He closed the door behind him, then crouched in the
hallway and put the Hungarian lightbulb into his valise, carefully
wrapped inside his silk shirt.
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