CRIME: The Secret

The shipyard barracks were quiet— too quiet—and on Sunday night rain drummed on the roof. Otto Stephen Wilson, 33, a fry cook in the yard commissary, looked at his face in the mirror. He could see why women smiled at him. With his black hair and neat mustache he resembled Robert Taylor, the actor. And women had no way of knowing what he was thinking, so secretly, when he smiled back at them.

Women had never given him comfort or peace. In the orphanage, in the Navy, in these last months of drifting,...

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