Someone hid Rose Martelli's purse in the drop ceiling of the women's bathroom in Blueberry Hill's Elvis Room. It was such a good hiding place that staff only found the purse last week, ten years (almost to the day) later.
And Martelli -- now Rose Lorre, 39, a freelance writer living in Montreal -- says one thing's for sure: She's not the one who put it there.
"I remember losing it, I remember how upset I was," Lorre says. The purse was one of her favorites. "I remember being very mad that it was that bag because how are you ever going to replace a fucking Swiss army bag?"
A New Jersey native, she was hanging out with other St. Louis transplants at Blueberry Hill ("In retrospect, we were mostly bound by alcohol," she remembers) when the purse went missing.
"Maybe someone stole cash and stashed it? Or someone was just fucking pranking me, which pisses me off," she says. "I don't ever expect to find out."
The purse feels like an unintended time capsule. A receipt shows she filled her car with gas for $1.50 per gallon. Her ID and credit cards (all there) expired years ago. Her car keys are grimy.
Her phone looks downright ancient.
There was no cash in the red woven wallet, which is now warped after ten years pressed into the ceiling.
"Quite frankly, if there was cash in there, they're welcome to it," Lorre said. "I got pretty drunk at Blueberry Hill. I probably spent most of it. I called the credit-card company. No one was using the credit cards, which is the main thing you have to worry about."
How did Lorre learn her bag had been found? Find out after the jump!
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