by Mary Daheim
“What? Are you crazy?” Phyliss shrieked.
“Not at all,” Judith replied calmly. “I’m not sure I can manage to raise you without damaging my artificial hip.”
“You could be real careful. I’m not heavy, I’m your hired help.” Phyliss went limp.
Sighing, Judith pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and sat down in an effort to spare her hip. “Did you twist your knee?”
“It twists itself,” Phyliss replied, facedown again on the faux pine flooring.
Judith bent over just far enough to grasp the ties on Phyliss’s apron. “Guess what,” she said, unable to budge the cleaning woman without cooperation. “If you lie there like a rag doll, I can’t help you. I suggest prayer.”
Phyliss didn’t react for several moments. Then she began to wail and shout hymns of praise. Or something. Judith couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to work. Suddenly Phyliss bolted onto her knees, let out a few more worshipful paeans, and finally struggled to her feet.
“It’s a miracle!” she cried, embracing Judith with fervor. “Hallelujah! I’m cured!” Phyliss hesitated. “For now.”
“Good,” Judith said, patting Phyliss’s back before wriggling free. “I assume you mopped the kitchen floor earlier.”
“’Course I did,” Phyliss said, a scowl replacing exultation. “Do you think I’d wallow around on a floor with ungodly germs? I’m almost done except for the living and dining rooms and the front parlor. I’d like to go home a little early so I can put together my miraculous witness for our Bible study group tonight.”
“Fine, Phyliss,” Judith said, opening the fridge and considering the possibilities for the guests’ hors d’oeuvres.
After the morning and early afternoon’s hustle and bustle, the rest of the day seemed to drag. Judith kept busy, but she was anxious to head for Moonfleet Street. Luckily, the weather had remained overcast, which meant that it should get completely dark around ten o’clock, instead of closer to ten-thirty.
Just before eight, she called Renie again. “I’ll pick you up at ten,” she told her cousin. “What are you telling Bill?”
“Not much,” Renie replied, speaking in a low voice. “And don’t come until after ten-fifteen. Bill should be heading for bed by then. If he misses me, I’ll leave a note, saying I had to go over to the B & B to help you with some unruly guests.”
“Let’s make it ten-thirty,” Judith said. “I can lock up the house at ten, and we want to make sure the Blands are in bed.”
“How do we do that?” Renie asked.
“When all the lights are out,” Judith said.
“The light, you mean,” Renie noted. “I’ve never seen more than one on at a time in that house.”
“Correct.” Judith took a deep breath. “Are you nervous?”
“No. I’m drunk.”
“Coz!”
“Just kidding,” Renie said. “I’m not as much nervous as I am curious after all these years of wondering what went on inside that house. I can barely sit still. While Bill’s watching De Niro and Pacino in Heat for the forty-third time, I told him I was going to organize my closet. I’ve been all over the house like a damned grasshopper.”
“We’ll be okay,” Judith asserted. “What’s the worst thing that can happen?”
“Getting arrested? Getting killed?”
“Either. Both. See you at ten-thirty.”
Fortunately, all the guests except a thirtysomething couple from Little Rock, Arkansas, had returned to Hillside Manor by ten o’clock. The latecomers had their key and their instructions. After making sure Gertrude was all right, Judith put her domestic responsibilities behind her and drove off to collect Renie.
Misgivings began to overcome Judith by the time she reached the top of the hill. As she descended the north slope, the misgivings became qualms. By the time she reached the Joneses’ house, doubts loomed large before her.
Renie, clad in black slacks, a black long-sleeved sweater, and a black watch cap covering her hair, slipped out through the front door and locked it behind her. She could have passed for a cat burglar if she hadn’t tripped over the edge of the doormat and bounced off the porch railing.
“Don’t try that at the Blands’,” Judith warned when her cousin got into the Subaru.
“Shut up and drive,” Renie snapped.
“I like the watch cap,” Judith remarked as they took the turn to the bridge. “I settled for a head scarf to complete my all-black ensemble.”
“You always did look good in black,” Renie said. “Are you nervous?”
Judith decided to keep her fears to herself. “No. Why?”
“Because you just ran the arterial at the six-way stop,” Renie said. “It’s a good thing there’s not much traffic this time of night.”
Judith grimaced. “Okay, so I’m a little on edge. Aren’t you?”
“Anxious is more like it,” Renie replied. “You don’t think Teresa really saw a ghost, do you?”
“No,” Judith answered. “I think it was a real person.”
“Bill believes in ghosts,” Renie said. “I allow for the possibility.”
Judith didn’t respond. They were turning off the bridge, heading for Langford.
“Do we have a plan?” Renie asked after another minute of silence.
“Yes,” Judith replied in a solemn tone. “I pick the lock on the front door.”
“Okay.”
Renie didn’t question her cousin’s expertise. During Judith’s marriage to Dan McMonigle, she’d been forced to learn how to pick various locks and even open a safe to find where Dan had hidden his gambling money. Though they might be stony-broke and unable to buy groceries, Dan had considered his betting stash untouchable. Judith hadn’t agreed.
“What happens next?” Renie inquired, twitching anxiously in her seat.
“We’ll have to wait and see.” Judith didn’t speak again until they were a block away from Moonfleet Street. “I’m going to chance it and pull into the alley.”
“Okay,” Renie said in a faint voice.
The Subaru crept across the intersection. On her left, Judith could see the outline of the tile roof and chimney through the big trees and dense foliage. All lay in darkness. No rain, no moon, no breeze, only a charcoal sky above them. She reversed slowly onto the dirt track, stopping the car just out of sight of any latenight passersby.
“I think I’ll wait here,” Renie said, folding her arms.
Judith looked stern. “Come on, before I lose my nerve, too.”
Reluctantly, Renie got out of the car. Judith opened the back door on the driver’s side and handed her cousin one of two police-issue flashlights. “These are Joe’s,” she said in a quiet voice before pointing to the shrubbery next to the alley. “Come on, we’re going through here, but we don’t dare turn on the flashlights until we’re inside.”
“Great. I should have worn armor.” But Renie followed Judith, who was trying to keep to the same route she’d taken when delivering the Blands’ groceries.
The rain had stopped early enough that the ground was now solid and the greenery was dry. But the cousins both stumbled a couple of times and felt the clawing of branches and berry vines on their arms and legs. Reaching the overgrown backyard, they stopped to collect themselves.
Neither spoke, but both gave a start when they heard a rustling noise nearby.
“Squirrel?” Renie breathed.
“Mouse?” Judith whispered back.
Slowly and quietly, they moved around the side of the house and under the arched wing wall. Reaching the front, they passed the jutting single-story section that could have been a den or a parlor. Creeping by the tower, they finally reached the arched mahogany door.
Unzipping the fanny pack she wore under her black sweatshirt, Judith removed a thin, flexible wire and inserted it in the lock.
“Damn!” she cursed under her breath. “It’s a dead bolt. That’s a bit trickier.”
Renie leaned against the tower and kep
t her mouth shut. Judith let out a big sigh. “I’m going to have to turn on the penlight. Shield me.”
Renie moved so that the small dot of light couldn’t be seen from the front window on their left. Judith kept working, twisting and turning the wire. Finally, she shook her head.
“You’re going to have to hold the penlight,” she whispered. “See if you can crouch down in front of me.”
Renie managed to squeeze in between her cousin and the door. Judith was beginning to pant with exertion; Renie’s knees started to wobble.
Suddenly there was a click as the locks retracted.
“Ah!” Judith exclaimed softly. “Get in and lie flat.”
The second the cousins crossed the threshold, the alarm went off. Quickly, but carefully, Judith dropped down onto the cold tiles and rolled to one side of the entry hall. Renie did the same, in the opposite direction. The alarm kept ringing. The cousins scarcely breathed.
The loud, jangling sound continued. Judith closed her eyes, as if that would deaden the cacophony. A minute, two minutes passed. Surely the noise would waken the dead. Unless, Judith thought…
But someone was alive in the house. After another minute had passed, the alarm stopped. Judith figured that whoever had hit the switch must have done it in the kitchen. Listening intently, she heard faint, slow footsteps. She braced herself, but the sound faded. Whichever member of the household had disconnected the alarm was apparently going away. Upstairs, Judith decided. She couldn’t hear a door being closed, and there didn’t appear to be any space for bedrooms on the main floor.
Clumsily, she sat up. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and she could see Renie moving on the other side of the entry hall.
“Living room,” Judith murmured, realizing that her legs had been blocking the open doorway.
The cousins got to their feet. “Thank God whoever that was didn’t use the tower stairs,” Renie whispered. “There must be a spiral staircase in there because it’s two stories high. If they’d come down that way, I’d have gotten stepped on.”
Judith didn’t respond. The floor seemed to moan under her footsteps. She turned on her regular flashlight and slowly aimed it around the room. Bill had been right: the furniture was covered in leather, a Spanish style appearing so old that Ferdinand and Isabella might have sat on it. There was wrought iron, too, in the chandelier with its candle-shaped bulbs and the heavy fire screen that reminded Judith of gates to a country mansion. The odor of mold and age hung on the air; the flashlight caught clouds of dust particles. The house felt like a museum that had been closed for years. Or maybe, Judith thought with a shiver, more like a mausoleum.
Renie was examining a pair of lamps on a pecan demilune chest. “Look,” she said under her breath. “Real peacock feathers around the top, amber beads on the bottom—but the silk shades are rotting away. It’s a wonder they don’t catch fire.”
“I’m beginning to doubt Alan’s word when he told me his grandparents furnished this house on the cheap,” Judith murmured. “Originally, this stuff must have been costly, even if some of it was left here by the previous owners.” She aimed her flashlight onto the stucco walls. “See these urns on the mantel? The blue is beautiful on the plain one and the flowers on the other are so delicate.”
Renie used her own flashlight to look at the urns. “The gold scrollwork on both of them looks real. These didn’t come out of a factory. The craftsmanship is too good.” She moved the beam of light to a pair of pastoral miniatures above the mantel. “These little guys are lovely, too. They almost look real.”
The phone rang close by. Judith stifled a cry and Renie jumped. The phone rang again. Pointing her flashlight in the direction of the sound, Judith spotted the old-fashioned black dial phone on a small end table next to the sofa. Gingerly, she picked the receiver up in the middle of the third ring.
“Speak up,” said a hoarse female voice on what Judith figured was an upstairs extension. “I can’t hear you.”
“It’s me, Liebchen, your Franz.”
Judith mouthed the caller’s name to Renie, who hissed “Sally?” in response. Judith nodded.
“Why are you calling so late?” Sally demanded. “I was asleep.”
“Ven are you not?” Franz retorted in an ironic tone. “Anyvays, it’s morning here.”
“You never remember the time difference,” Sally scolded. “After all these years…Oh, what’s the use? You never listen.”
Renie had moved to stand next to Judith, trying to catch at least part of the conversation.
“You listen to me,” Franz ordered in his gruff voice. “Vy didn’t you telephone me about the package? Who is this voman who told me yesterday it vas lost?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sally declared. “I think you’ve finally gone crazy, Franz. And by the way, yesterday to you is still today to me.”
“Vot?”
Sally emitted a deep sigh. “Never mind.”
“I vaited to call until now so it vould be morning,” Franz said doggedly. “I didn’t vant to vake you.”
“Fine, fine. What about the package? It arrived last week, safe and sound. And who is this woman you’re jabbering about?”
“I don’t know,” Franz replied. “She didn’t say her name.”
“Tell me more about the woman,” Sally demanded.
“I don’t know more,” Franz snapped. “She said she was a friend, and you were not able to speak. It vouldn’t be the first time you couldn’t talk on the telephone. But the package is there?”
“You’re mean,” Sally retorted. “Yes, the package arrived safely and on time, thank you,” she went on, her tone growing more affable. “Porcelain candlesticks fetch a good price. The silverware needs polishing, but at least the settings are almost complete. I’m not sure about the wall plaque. Are you certain it came from an Italian palazzo?”
“I am alvays certain,” Franz huffed. “It vas part of a ceiling. There are more panels, but I save them for later.”
“All right.” Sally cleared her throat. “But I still don’t like this business about some woman calling you. Was she an American?”
“Ja,” Franz replied.
“That’s very interesting,” Sally said in a musing tone. “But perhaps it doesn’t matter.”
“It mattered to me,” Franz asserted. “She knew Lukas. And you and Anna, too. How is Lukas?”
“Very well,” Sally assured him. “His eyes, of course, trouble him. You received my letter?”
“Letter? Not yet. Is one coming?”
“Yes. It should be there tomorrow or the next day. We have big news,” Sally said in a smug tone. “I won’t say more now, but I’ll be seeing you very soon.”
“Vot?” Franz’s shout was so loud that both cousins gave a start.
“I’m hanging up now.” Sally’s voice had begun to slur. “I’m very tired.”
Judith heard the dial tone. “Well.” She set the receiver down in its cradle. “Do we know now what this is all about?”
“Black-market goods? Smuggling?” Renie suggested.
“There may be more to it than that,” Judith murmured. “Let’s check that other room across the hall.”
The door was locked. Once again, Judith got out her wire tool. Unlike the first time, the lock to the single-story room clicked open after less than a minute.
Judith felt as if she had stepped outside. The air was fresh; the sense of decay had evaporated. And the room itself seemed empty. Judith pointed her flashlight toward the arched front window. There were no rotting drapes. Instead, a taut shade blotted out the light.
She began to scan the stucco walls. There were two paintings directly in front of her. “Golly,” Judith said, “these are beautiful prints. They’ve even installed lights over them.”
One was a Rubens nude, the other a Fragonard landscape. Moving closer, Renie reached up to touch the Rubens. Then she ran her fingers over the Fragonard. For what seemed like a long time to Judith, her
cousin stared at the paintings. Finally, she turned around.
“Prints?” Renie said softly. “These are the real thing.”
“What do you mean, ‘real’?” Judith inquired in a low, puzzled voice.
“I’m not an art expert,” Renie averred, “but I can tell a print from a painting. If these aren’t originals, they’re outstanding copies. Put your light up close, feel the texture. The canvas has small cracks. It’s paint.”
Judith followed Renie’s instructions. Sure enough, she could feel the brushstrokes. Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned around to see what Renie was doing.
“Holy cats!” Renie breathed. “A Holbein, a Joos van Cleve, a Titian, a Van Eyck, a couple of small Monets—this is incredible!”
Her voice had risen with excitement. Judith waved at Renie to tone it down. “Surely,” Judith whispered, “these can’t all be authentic.”
Renie was hopping with excitement. “Then why go to such trouble to have a controlled atmosphere? Why, when the rest of the place is practically falling down, keep these in a special room?” She turned back to gaze at the Titian. “Stolen artwork? Stolen twice, that is? By the Nazis and from the Nazis?”
“It makes sense,” Judith said, speaking in an awed whisper, “especially after what Uncle Corky told me about how the soldiers looted the area around Kopfstein, which happens to be very close to Berchtesgaden, where Hitler and his henchmen had their mountain retreats.”
Renie seemed mesmerized. “I can’t believe we’re looking at genuine art treasures. It’s like being in the Louvre or the Prado.”
“How long have the Blands been selling this stuff?” Judith murmured.
“And keeping what they couldn’t part with?” Renie gestured at the closed drapes. “No wonder they never let in any light. It wasn’t just sensitivity of their eyes, but an effort to preserve their treasures.”
“And keep them from being seen by other people,” Judith pointed out. “That’s something I don’t understand. Great art should be shared with the world, but some collectors hide their masterpieces. It’s so selfish and such a waste.”