The Stranger From Berlin

by Melissa Amateis

  Celia reached over and squeezed Jenni’s hand. ‘Oh, I forgive you, hon. It’s completely ridiculous that we have to worry about it at all.’ She heaved a huge sigh. ‘No. I don’t want them put back in the attic. They’re too beautiful to be packed away.’

  ‘Then…’

  Celia’s lips twitched. ‘No one ever said anything about not putting them in the cottage. Until I can get the board to change their mind, that’s where they’ll go.’

  Thank God Celia understood. The last thing Jenni wanted to do was strain their relationship thanks to her own stupidity.

  ‘That will give Max something to do then,’ Jenni replied. ‘I think he’s looking forward to seeing what the whole collection entails.’

  ‘As a German historian, I don’t doubt it.’

  Celia’s brief ebullience suddenly vanished and she fiddled with the phone cord. Jenni cringed. There was more.

  ‘Spill it, Celia. What else happened?’

  Celia pushed herself to her feet and grabbed a stack of folders from the end of her desk. ‘It’s about the professor.’

  Now what?

  Celia yanked open the filing cabinet and the resulting screech made them both wince.

  ‘This is something else I was going to have him do: oil this blasted thing,’ she muttered. ‘But I guess I’ll have to ask Hank.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because,’ Celia said flatly, shoving a file into the drawer and slamming it shut, ‘the board advised me that it would be a good idea not to have the professor here in the museum where the public can see him.’

  Unbelievable. That they would stoop to such lengths, that they would try and shut him away like some… some rabid animal!

  ‘Are they really that stupid?’

  Celia put a finger to her lips. ‘Shhh. Georgie might hear you.’

  ‘And what if she does? Is she going to go report me?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised. She did marry Mr Macintosh’s nephew.’

  And Jenni wouldn’t be one bit surprised if Georgie was snooping for Lowe and his sister. The fact that all three of them were involved with the Stanwick House didn’t sit well with her.

  ‘Well, as far as I’m concerned, Max can stay right where he’s at,’ Jenni said. ‘Since he’s been here, he’s fixed everything you’ve asked him to, which, by the way, was more than the board did for you, don’t forget.’

  ‘I’m not forgetting, Jenni,’ Celia murmured. ‘But maybe with everything going on right now, it’s for the best.’

  ‘You can’t be serious! He hasn’t done anything wrong.’

  Celia fell silent and folded her arms, studying the floor. Jenni held back a groan. No, no, no, Celia! she thought. Don’t cave! Don’t give in to them!

  ‘I have no reason to believe the professor has done anything wrong,’ Celia said, ‘but we don’t know much about him; about his past, I mean.’

  But Jenni did know about him. They’d had so many conversations these past few weeks. She knew about his love of movies and music and theatre, about how he would attend a performance of the Lincoln Symphony Orchestra and sit in the very back corner so he could close his eyes and listen to every note without people giving him strange looks, or how he would attend the same play over and over again, always watching a different character each time to gain a new perspective on the story. Or how he and Katya would go to Antelope Park in Lincoln to play fetch with a grubby stick and then take a ten-minute nap on a park bench.

  He didn’t talk about his past and she didn’t care. He made her laugh, made her think, made her look at the world through a different perspective, and she relished it. No, they never talked about the war or politics, but it was more by tacit consent than anything else. He valued her opinion and didn’t belittle her by saying she was only a woman and belonged in the kitchen or in the bedroom like Danny used to do.

  She said none of this, though, because Celia would dismiss it. Celia would worry that Jenni had once again fallen for a handsome man with an accent and would launch into a warning speech similar to Mom’s.

  But it wasn’t like that. At all. Rafe had been a terrible misjudgment. But Max was her friend.

  ‘Celia,’ she said slowly, ‘surely if you’d had doubts about him, you never would have brought him here in the first place.’

  Celia twisted her wedding ring, then threw up her hands. ‘Oh, it’s not that. I talked to his friend Professor Jeffries about him. He gave him a glowing review. But he didn’t tell me anything about his life in Germany.’

  ‘Did you ask?’

  ‘Professor Jeffries said Max doesn’t like to discuss Germany. When he came over for dinner a few weeks ago, we did talk about it a bit, but he seemed hesitant to say much. And who wouldn’t be? He lived in Nazi Germany, for heaven’s sake. I can’t imagine what he saw. I didn’t push it because I didn’t think there was a need to.’

  ‘And there’s a need now? Because a diary is missing and someone defaced businesses downtown?’

  ‘You have to admit it’s suspicious, Jenni. It all started when he showed up.’

  ‘But there is no proof that he was responsible for either incident. You know that, Celia!’

  Celia bit her lip. ‘You’re right. I know you’re right. But the thing is…’ She lowered her voice. ‘Hank heard a rumour that the professor might not be on sabbatical, that he was let go from the university instead.’

  ‘And who told him that?’

  ‘Walt Fricke down at the bakery.’

  ‘Walt Fricke? Maybe you don’t know this, but Walt Fricke is worse than the Brothers Grimm when it comes to making up fairy tales.’

  ‘Even if it’s not true, if the board hears that one…’

  Good grief. This was getting entirely out of hand. ‘You’re letting the board get to you. Don’t let them.’

  ‘Easier said than done. Remember, they’re the ones that decide whether or not I get to keep this job.’

  ‘John will never let them fire you. You’ve done exactly what they asked you to – make the museum a success. Besides’ – she nodded towards the gold band on Celia’s left hand – ‘you’ve got Hank now, and his family. That counts for something.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘So what are you going to tell Max?’

  ‘Oh, fiddlesticks. I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, it’s not like they ordered you to get rid of him, did they?’

  Celia snorted. ‘Now you know as well as I do that when they suggest I do something, they really mean I have to do it.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to find a way to work around it. Until they find that diary, Max will go plain nuts if we don’t keep him busy. And you know we have plenty of things to keep him busy around here.’

  ‘For starters, he can do what you suggested and start cataloguing the books,’ Celia said. ‘He won’t be here in the main house, but he’ll still be helping out.’

  Jenni still didn’t like it. She had half a mind to drive to Mayor Lowe’s house and give him what for. Only then she knew she’d lose her job, and like Celia, she needed it right now.

  ‘All right. Guess we’ll have to do it their way for now. Hopefully the diary will show up soon and—’

  Loud voices sounded outside the office door and Georgie burst inside, cheeks flushed and eyes wide as dinner plates.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Georgie all but whispered, ‘but Police Chief Thompson is here.’

  Jenni’s heart shot straight to the back of her throat. Oh no. What had happened now?

  Celia glanced at Jenni and murmured, ‘Show him in, Georgie.’

  Victor sauntered inside, his hook nose red from cold. ‘Morning, Mrs Draper.’ He narrowed his eyes at Jenni. ‘Mrs Fields.’

  Jenni stared right back. ‘What’s happened now, Victor?’

  Mild irritation crossed his face. ‘Where’s the professor? Heard he’s been working here, though I don’t think it’s a good idea to have a Kraut hanging around.’

  ‘He’s not here,’ Jenni said, a
nnoyed. ‘And he’s not a Kraut.’

  Celia was giving her that look, the one that pleaded with her to be on her best behaviour. Jenni inwardly sighed and knew she’d have to apologize later. Celia didn’t like to ruffle feathers when she didn’t need to, a trait Jenni would do well to adopt.

  ‘I haven’t seen him today, Chief Thompson,’ Celia replied. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘I’ll say. Someone destroyed the war memorial in front of the courthouse.’

  * * *

  ‘You say you found this letter in a book?’

  Max nodded and took a long sip of coffee, still frozen from riding his bike out to the cemetery this morning. After he’d arrived, it had taken a good ten minutes for his teeth to stop chattering. Kooky had put a blanket around him and plied him with coffee.

  ‘Jenni… er, Mrs Fields and I found some books in the museum’s attic yesterday. All of them were in German.’

  ‘Which is why they were in the attic,’ Kooky said.

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  Kooky read the letter again and rubbed his forehead. ‘Well now.’ He studied the photo and a small smile escaped his lips. ‘This is Phillip Janssen for certain. I remember him well.’

  ‘Mrs Stanwick wrote in the diary that he died on the battlefield.’

  Kooky nodded. ‘He recovered from pneumonia only to fall during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. His parents were devastated.’ He handed the picture to Max. ‘But I am sure they would love to have this. They still live here. Alois and Gertrude.’

  Max couldn’t look at the picture of Phillip Janssen. The man was dead, another casualty of German fanaticism. There were times he hated his country and vowed never to return. But the pull of home was too strong.

  ‘Would it shock you to know that I am not surprised Benjamin turned to the German side?’ Kooky said.

  ‘I am not sure I have the capacity to be shocked any longer.’

  Kooky laughed. ‘Ach! My boy, live here another few months, and you will find much to shock you, I have little doubt!’

  Max frowned into his coffee mug. ‘That does not comfort me.’

  ‘Nor should it. But it will prepare you.’ Kooky struggled to his feet and went into the living room, returning with an old photo album. He flipped through a few pages and then stopped. ‘Here. This is Benjamin’s mother, Henrietta. A beautiful woman, was she not?’

  Max had to agree. Her dark hair, finely sculpted cheekbones and serious gaze undoubtedly had inspired many a man to court her.

  ‘She was from a very old Prussian aristocratic family. Now Lowe was of Irish stock. His family came to America during one of the first waves of Irish immigration and settled in Omaha. Built a fortune in the railroad. His parents sent him on a grand tour of Europe because that is what good and proper young men did at the time. He met Henrietta in Berlin. She was the daughter of Prussian aristocrats, and of course, a lowly Irishman wasn’t good enough for their daughter, no matter that his parents were rich. But Henrietta loved him, and so they allowed the marriage. They wed at the ancestral family estate outside of Berlin. From what Henrietta told me, Lowe struggled with the language and didn’t understand the culture. He also resented how Henrietta’s upper-class family and friends treated him. One imagines they were quite snobbish, and it left a sour taste in Lowe’s mouth. The newlyweds came back to America and settled in Omaha, but Henrietta longed for small-town life. They decided to move to Meadow Hills since Lowe’s twin sister had married Jed Macintosh. Of course, Lowe wasn’t happy to live in a town settled by Germans.’

  ‘I’m surprised they stayed.’

  ‘Indeed. But Henrietta was content, and he loved that woman something fierce. After the marriage, Henrietta went to Germany several times with the children. Lowe never accompanied them, which gave Henrietta’s father, a Prussian military man, an excellent opportunity to fill his only grandson’s head with tales of Prussian glory.’

  ‘Which probably did not go over well with Lowe.’

  ‘Oh, indeed it did not. I remember Henrietta coming to me several times in tears, saying that Evan had forbidden her from writing to her parents and from travelling to Germany. After Henrietta died in 1912, Lowe set about trying to undo what he saw as the “damage” her father had done to Ben. You can imagine their relationship was not a good one. When anti-German sentiment began to pick up speed, it only fuelled Lowe’s desire to eradicate the Germanness from his own family. With Henrietta not there to stop it, he effectively turned those children against half of their heritage. All except for Ben.’

  ‘So,’ Max said slowly, ‘if what Phillip Janssen said is true and Benjamin Lowe did fight for Germany…’

  ‘It would destroy Lowe,’ Kooky said, ‘in more ways than one.’

  ‘Did Lowe ever receive notification that he’d been killed?’

  ‘No. The French Army reported him as missing in action, presumed dead. But I can guess at what happened. Ben undoubtedly did join the French in the beginning, and then deserted, crossing over to the German lines to fight with them.’ He nodded towards the cemetery. ‘His body isn’t there, only a tombstone. I can only assume Dietrich told no one about this since Lowe continues to boast of his son’s sacrifice during the war.’

  Max stared at the envelope, now lying between them on the table. He wished to God he’d never found it in the first place. It had the potential for so much destruction. And no matter Max’s personal squabble with Lowe, he had no desire to put the man through such an ordeal.

  ‘I know Lowe hasn’t treated you well,’ Kooky said. ‘And this letter gives you a mighty weapon to use against him.’

  But the very thought of destroying Lowe’s life, no matter how repellant he might be, sickened Max. ‘I would never do that.’

  Kooky smiled. ‘I am glad to hear you say that.’

  ‘So what do we do with it?’

  ‘We?’ Kooky said, his brows rising. ‘It does not belong to us. It belongs to the museum. If I had my choice, I would burn it, but they must be the ones to determine what to do with it. Although – may I make a suggestion?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Kooky folded his arms over his chest and stared purposefully at Max, though the droop on the right side of his face made him look unsure as to whether he was telling a joke or delivering a lecture. ‘Put the letter back in the book, and then put the book back in the attic. Tell no one else of what you’ve found.’

  ‘You mean, as they say, let sleeping dogs lie?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  * * *

  A large angry crowd had gathered on the dead lawn in front of the courthouse. Voices rose and fell in the frosty morning, and white puffs of breath made it look like the whole crowd was smoking. Jenni followed Celia through the mass of people, accidentally stepping on a man’s foot. When she looked up to apologize, she saw only a flash of sun reflected from his wire-framed glasses before he blended into the crowd. She tried to find him again, but then Celia pulled her towards the front.

  ‘Get a load of that!’

  ‘Gee willikers,’ Jenni breathed.

  The memorial featured a First World War doughboy carved in grey stone, holding a rifle. Since Meadow Hills was the county seat, names of all the boys in the county who had fallen were chiselled at the base of the statue. Except they’d been scratched off. Worse, the soldier’s head had somehow been broken off. It lay on the ground, and when Jenni looked closer, she saw a swastika painted on its forehead.

  ‘This is outrageous!’ she heard someone say. She turned and wasn’t surprised to see Mayor Lowe standing at the front of the crowd in his derby hat and trench coat. He spotted Jenni and Celia, and his gaze zeroed in on them like a Messerschmitt against a Spitfire.

  ‘Look at this… this travesty!’ he shouted to the crowd. ‘My son’s name was on this statue. And he, along with every other man who fought and died in the Great War listed here, has been insulted!’

  Lowe whirled to face her. ‘And where is the esteemed Professor Koenig?’

/>   Jenni opened her mouth to make a snide remark but Celia clutched her arm. ‘I don’t know, Mayor Lowe,’ Celia said, ‘but I’m sure he’s not responsible for this.’

  Mutters and curses travelled through the group, and Jenni fought the urge to yell that they were all a bunch of stubborn idiots.

  ‘As soon as you find him, tell him to come to the police station,’ Mayor Lowe growled. ‘We want to talk to him.’

  Jenni couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. ‘Why? You don’t have a single scrap of evidence that he had anything to do with this! Anyone could have done it.’

  ‘I’m astonished at you, Mrs Fields,’ Lowe said, ‘being so unpatriotic as to take the side of someone whose country is responsible for your husband’s death. You’ve even invited him into your home.’ His mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘Your poor son must be beside himself.’

  Jenni went completely still, and as if from very far away, she heard feet shuffling in embarrassment and the echoed mumblings of people around her saying Lowe had gone too far. None of them reprimanded him though. So there he stood, smug in his righteousness.

  White hot rage burst in her like a firecracker, and before she knew it, she’d charged up to him, her bare hand sailing through the air and landing with a sharp crack on his cheek, completely wiping the smirk off his face.

  His head whipped back and he stared at her in shock.

  ‘How dare you,’ she snarled, her fingers curling as she fought the urge to strike him again. ‘My husband sacrificed his life for people like you. Don’t you ever question my loyalty to this nation or to my son, you spiteful little toad!’

  She wanted to say more, oh so much more, but then Celia was beside her, guiding her away from the crowd that suddenly couldn’t shut up. Her body was shaking and she barely noticed as Celia put her in the passenger seat of the car and drove off.

  The incident replayed over and over in her mind, and she rubbed her aching hand. Her palm burned where she’d struck him. Her other hand clutched her glove. She couldn’t even remember removing it.