"You tell me." The words rattled around the silence at the table like marbles in a tin box.
Herta's mouth twitched in what may have been either smile or grimace. She leveled a stare at Krista that the other met and held.
Father Edmund watched the two women, not sure what was happening. He was surprised at the sudden tension in the air. Not of impending explosion, he realized, but more like "irresistible force meeting immovable object", the law meeting The Law. He held his breath.
Herta broke the silence. "If and when you need to know, you shall be told as much as is necessary." Both her companions stared at her. Then Krista's eyes narrowed.
Uh-oh, Edmund thought. Here it comes. Herta had inherited Hans' attitude and Krista had grown up with her father's. He'd have found it amusing - if it hadn't been for the fact that he was still within striking distance of both women.
To his astonishment, however, Krista only nodded. Edmund stared at them both. Had he just witnessed a silent declaration of war? His mouth dropped open as it hit him. They weren't enemies, they were... He frowned, trying to find an appropriate comparison. More like monarch and trusted advisor. How had they arrived at that station? Even the law clerk, what was his name? Gebhardt? Even he hadn't been trusted so readily.
"So where do you suppose the entrance to the ashpit is?" Krista was asking, as if the previous turn of conversation had never been.
Father Edmund blinked twice, trying to organize his scrambled thoughts.
Herta, meanwhile, was shaking her head. "I have no idea. The parlour fireplace seems to be one wall of it, but there's no room..." She paused, chewed on one thumb for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. "The bedroom is directly above the kitchen, but neither room has a fireplace. The wood stove is on the wrong side of the kitchen to heat the bedroom, but should do okay to heat both my office and the storage area." She leaned back in her chair. "Ergo, the parlour fireplace is the one that does double duty for the bedroom."
"The parlour fire?" Krista mused. "Or the ash pit?"
Something about the bedroom twitched at Edmund's memory. Something he hadn't thought of in ages. But what? The conversation between the two women dimmed in his ears as he tried to remember. "Of course," he blurted out. "Not this Herta, the other one!"
The two women started at him and then shared grins.
The priest glared at them both. "No, I am not, as you might say, losing it. Kindly have some respect for your elders."
"Our apologies, Father Edmund." Herta was trying not to laugh outright. "You appeared to be deep in thought and we hadn't realized that..." She clamped her mouth shut suddenly, her lips pursing in an effort to keep the amusement inside.
Krista had both hands over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.
"I fail to see what's so funny, ladies," Edmund said huffily, although, he too, was having trouble keeping a straight face.
Krista moved her hands over her eyes and wiped them down her face. "I asked what sort of an idiot would build a bedroom without a fireplace and you spoke."
Edmund chuckled. "Very well, you're forgiven this time. But, in a manner of speaking, it does answer your question." He turned to Herta. "You know of the room above the kitchen and the office?"
"The storage room? Yes," Herta nodded.
"It is storage now, but it was once a bedroom. In the beginning, Hans and Herta slept in the room closer to the stairs.When Gunther married, he and Anika slept in that room and Hans and Herta moved into the back bedroom. Hans had arranged it because, he'd explained, Gunther could sometimes only get away for a few hours at night. Hans didn't want Herta disturbed by his coming and going. It was, he said, better all around." Father Edmund shook his head as if he still didn't understand the logic of it. "However, there was a fireplace in that room." He paused, trying to recall the differences between the two. "I only ever saw the room twice, once when Gunther was alive and then again after Hans died." He shot a glance at Krista.
"I'm not sure, exactly, but I think Hans' bed is built right onto the old hearth. I know he moved the wall."
"Why would he do that?" Herta wanted to know.
"The original room ran the width of the house, with the second bedroom only being over the office," Father Edmund explained. "From what I can gather, Hans didn't want anything to remind him of Herta. One of the things that hurt him the most, or so I've gathered, is the fireplace. He'd had it specially carved for Herta when they were married. When she died..." He shrugged.
There was a moment's silence as they considered the implications.
Herta frowned. "Well, that would explain why the entire wall was covered over, but why was the wall changed?"
"To change the size of the room? To change its outlines?" Krista ventured.
Herta thought about it. It was possible, she supposed. "There must be a fair bit of space behind the bed, then." She grinned. "If I could figure out how to move the cupboards to get at it."
Edmund shook his head. "I doubt they could be moved. They're not made of plywood or pressboard, you know."
"I'd heard Father saying something about Hans all but building a new room inside the old one," Krista said. She grinned as the entire memory returned. "It was when we were renovating the house. Mother wanted to redo one entire wall and Father had asked 'Do you think I'm as rich as Theiner, that I can put a new room inside an old one?' Mother was a bit miffed at that."
Edmund's eyes crinkled with amusement. "I can imagine."
"So," Herta interrupted, getting back to the question at hand. "There was a fireplace upstairs on one side of the pit and another downstairs and opposite."
"Plus the stove," Krista added.
"Plus the stove," Herta agreed. "The entrance then, would be where? Somewhere central certainly. Off the stairwell, perhaps?"
The suggestion rumbled around the table for a bit.
"Could be."
"The question now becomes," Krista observed, "Why?"
Herta tapped one finger against her coffee cup. "A hidden room?" She frowned. It didn't sound right, from what little she knew. A room implied that someone would live in it, but there was nothing in Hans' letter, or what notes she'd read, to indicate that any of the Seeleocran had ever lived with the Theiners. Her eyes widened. "A hidden staircase, perhaps? I mean, if they were helping Jews escape from the Nazis, keeping them in a room wouldn't necessarily be an option, would it?"
It was Krista's turn to frown.
"What?"
Krista shook her head. "I'm not sure. We found a diary next to Frau Hörst's bed," she began slowly. "You see, that's what has us believing that her death wasn't an accident."
"Her diary?" Edmund felt as confused as Herta looked. "You mean she named her killer?"
Krista looked around and then, leaned closer to the other two. "What I have to say is not common knowledge. I would prefer that it didn't become so."
Edmund and Herta looked at each other and then back to Krista. They agreed.
"It's not just the diary that has us wondering," Krista began softly. "There was a strong smell of garlic, too. And Frau Hörst couldn't have garlic." She looked at Father Edmund. "Remember the bazaar last fall?"
Edmund groaned. "I remember. I think they heard her three towns over, if you'll pardon my disrespect. It was my ears she was trying to deafen."
"What happened?" Herta asked.
Father Edmund sighed. "Frau Hörst had just been diagnosed with a heart condition. She... er... wasn't taking well to her new diet." Krista's snort of laughter earned her a glare from Edmund.
Herta tipped her head, trying to put the pieces together. "Heart condition?" And then it dawned on her. "She couldn't have garlic, could she? You thought the garlic smell in her room was from arsenic poisoning?" Herta frowned. "I'm not sure that's possible. Wouldn't the garlicky smell be overpowered by... other smells?"
Krista shook her head. "Not necessarily. Sometimes fatal doses of arsenic cause only heart failure and none of the other symptoms. It depends on the type and amount of poison and how it was introduced. I should know for sure by Monday."
Herta nodded. "Makes sense, I suppose. But how does the diary fit in?"
"Does the line 'the ground opens up once more to spit out the Soul Drinkers' mean anything to you?"
Herta shot a look at the somber face of Father Edmund. He dipped his head. It was going to be up to her. "Soul drinkers? You mean like vampires or something?" she asked, stalling a bit.
Krista snorted in disgust. "Isn't this where we started? I say 'You tell me' and you tell me to mind my own business. Well, this is my business. What do you know?"
Herta took a long breath before she spoke. "The problem is, Krista, that the information you want isn't mine to share, exactly. I don't lie to either the authorities or to my friends, and if you probe too deeply right now, I will have to do both. It's not what I want." She blew out a breath in frustration. "I can tell you that there is, to the best of my knowledge, no illegalities involved." Herta devoutly hoped that was true. "Nor, as far as I know, did anyone have anything to do with Frau Hörst's death."
Again, Edmund watched the silent communication between the two women. And, as before, it ended with Krista's nod. How did she do that, he wondered? She didn't seem to trust too many people and yet, for the most part, people trusted her. She was, he decided, very much like her great-grandmother.
"We'll leave the problem of 'who' for now," Krista was saying, "And concentrate on the 'what'. 'The ground opens up and spits someone out'?"
Herta leaned back in her chair, thinking. "A tunnel?" she guessed after a moment's silence.
Edmund nodded. "That might fit. Or an underground cavern of some sort? But where? If we could find even one end of it, the rest, including the 'who' might fall into place."
"The cemetery!" Herta said suddenly. "I'll bet you anything one end of the tunnel is in or near the cemetery outside of town."
"The reason for the attack on you the other day?" Krista asked.
"It fits," she said, stealing a look at Father Edmund. At his start, she knew he'd made the other connection, too. "And if the tunnel leads from there to the house, it would explain the swift disappearance of my morning visitor."
"But why would someone help you one morning and try to kill you six hours later?"
Herta slumped. She hadn't thought of that. "Two groups, perhaps? One wants me to stay and continue the 'protection' my family has provided for generations, and the other is afraid I'll arouse whatever it is I'm supposed to be guarding?"
Krista sighed. "That's another 'who' question, isn't it?"
Herta made a face. "Yeah. It is."
"There is another possibility," Edmund said slowly.
"Do tell."
"Indeed?"
Edmund stared at both women a long time before he spoke. "Now, this is pure speculation, you understand. And that, even if I did have firsthand information, I am bound to keep some confidences. And, you must remember, I am not an expert in matters of the mind."
He waited for their nods of agreement before he continued. "Herta, you know you bear a striking resemblance to your great-grandmother? Krista, you've heard the rumours that some people believe the Thule Society has been resurrected?"
Both women nodded, not sure of the connection.
Edmund took a deep breath before he went on. Speaking ill of anyone, much less the dead, didn't quite sit well with him. "I have no doubt that Frau Hörst had heard the rumours as well. Could it be that Herta's sudden appearance caused Frau Hörst to..." He waved a hand in the air, as if to capture the illusive description.
"Hallucinate?" Krista offered.
"Flashback?"
"In a manner of speaking, both. The mind is a strange thing. Not that Ilyana Hörst was mentally unstable, you understand," he added quickly.
Krista pinched her lower lip. "And there is both the manner of her death and the matter of her recent family upheavals. If she was indeed poisoned, it's possible that hallucinations could have been one result."
"Upheavals?" Herta asked, curious.
Edmund started and gave Krista a sharp look. "We've had three deaths in the past year or so. Hans was the first, then Ilyana's son, — "
"That would have been Sondra's husband?" Herta asked.
Krista nodded. "And now there is Frau Hörst herself."
Herta looked from one to the other. "Same cause of death?"
Krista shook her head. "We don't think so. Unfortunately, we didn't discover your great-grandfather's body in time." Her slight shudder said much.
Herta frowned, surprising Edmund with her matter-of-factness. But she hadn't known Hans, so maybe... Edmund's attention was drawn back to the woman as she spoke.
"If the body was that badly decomposed...?"
Again, Krista shook her head. "Not badly enough that we couldn't identify him, no. But enough that we didn't consider to do a toxicology. He was found at the foot of the stairs."
"It appeared that he'd fallen down the stairs and, what? Hit his head?" Herta persisted.
Krista shrugged. "It was ruled an accidental death. He was old. He fell down a flight of stairs. We had no reason to suspect foul play."
"I never said you did," Herta agreed. She offered a small, teasing, smile. "I've learned how professional you are, remember? How did the son die?"
"Car accident," Edmund picked up the story. "Sondra was in the car with him and says he lost control of it when he tried to avoid an animal crossing the road."
Something pinged on Herta's subconscious. "What kind of animal?"
"A dog of some kind, I think," said Krista. "I'd have to check the report. I didn't handle that one."
"Or a fox, perhaps?"
Edmund and Krista started at the note in Herta's voice. It was almost a certainty. "You know something we don't?"
Herta shook her head, the faint memory gone. "I'm not sure. I'm not sure if it was part of a dream or not." She sighed. "But I think I remember seeing a fox on the day Turan and I were attacked."
"Before or after?" Krista demanded.
Herta paused. "After, I think. On the way home." She shrugged. "Like I said, I'm not sure it was dream or reality."
"And now there's Ilyana with an unexplained garlic smell in her room," Edmund mused, trying to lessen the sudden tension.
Herta tipped her head. "Protection against vampires?"
Krista made a face. "Who knows?" She got to her feet. "Well, I must be off. Thank you both for your insight. You have been very helpful," she said formally, with a wink to them both.
Herta looked up, her face somber, her eyes twinkling. "So you expect to be by tomorrow to complete your search? Do you know what time?"
Krista blinked and grinned. "Just after lunch?"
Herta thought for a moment. "Make it just before noon and I'll provide lunch. My curiosity can be held off for only so long."
"And would there be enough room for a poor, lowly, servant of God to drop by and ensure that a member of his flock is not greatly inconvenienced by the terror of invading constabulary?" His voice was plaintive.
It took a second for the words to register with Herta, but when they did, she laughed. "So long as you don't expect too much in the way of lunch, you're more than welcome to come, too. As a matter of fact," she said, "You'd probably be of great help. You know more about Hans and Gunther and the way they thought than either Krista or I do."
Herta stopped to pick up some things for the next day's lunch and rode home in thoughtful silence. With a start, she saw a van pulled up in front of the house. A surly-faced man awaited her.
"You ordered binders?" he asked as she dismounted.
"I did. I wasn't expecting you until this afternoon. Thank you for your promptness," she said, taking her purchases out of the basket.
He didn't answer her, just followed her into the house with a large cardboard box.
"It would be easiest to put it in the office," Herta said, opening the door to that room.
The man dumped the box on top of the table and, after a sour look at Herta, stalked off.
She watched as he put the van into gear and drove off. "Well, so much for making friends and influencing people," she shrugged.
After a hurried lunch of soup and sandwich, Herta spent the afternoon lugging binders and boxes of sheet protectors up to the storage area. She went through the receipts boxes first, sorting them into annual piles before further sorting them into "Household Bills", "Taxes", "Other Bills" and "Correspondence". Each sheet was unfolded, where possible, and slipped into a protective cover before being transferred into a binder. She'd filled six binders and emptied three storage boxes before her stomach began to complain. It had been a temptation to stop and read all the papers, but Herta resisted it. That would have to wait.
She was up early the next morning and back to sorting papers. This time, she tackled the box marked "History", hoping to get it sorted and filed chronologically before her guests arrived. If Father Edmund would agree to help translate the information, it would be easier to hand him a binder rather than a box of loose papers.
She glared at one pile of papers. While most of them had dates that she could understand, there was a growing pile of papers that were dated in an unfamiliar manner. The numbers she could understand, but the months and years didn't make any sense. Did the "3rd Summer of Halin's Trials" come before or after the "3rd Winter of Menthan"? She sighed. Seasons first, names alphabetically, she decided. The rest could wait.
Herta had just stored the last binder when she heard a voice call her name. "Coming!" she shouted back and got stiffly to her feet. One leg had gone to sleep. She swore softly and, one hand on the wall to steady her, hobbled out of the storage room and across her bedroom.
She had almost made it to the landing when her leg gave way. With a shout and a solid thump, she slipped down the remaining few steps, bounced off the side wall of the landing and slammed into the other side with a reverberating thud.
Above the concerned voices from below, she heard a sharp snick and, to her astonishment, part of the wallpaper moved!
- 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 -