CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Chapter Twenty One

The trip back to Mountain Ridge was quiet. Lisa had been sedated. Dorothy felt as sad as her mother. She was too plain; her uncle, new aunt and new cousins were too elegant. Though she knew those two girls had done their best to be nice, they were still ashamed of these hick relatives. Dorothy had noticed the awkward glances around the restaurant to see who might be looking. At least she didn’t think anyone had ever told those girls that she was born with a tail.

They dropped Vonnie off at Almasy House. “My goodness the place is still standing,” Vonnie said trying to sound cheerful. “I was afraid it would fall down without me here.” Her car stood in the driveway. She would get home to her farm later that day or if Almasy House needed her she would stay. This trip to Jack’s wedding had been her first vacation since she took the job of managing the restored house.

Lisa broke her silence as soon as Dylan and Dorothy were inside their house.

“My brother, the jigolo. Who would have guessed?”

Dylan ignored her.

“No wonder he’s so wealthy. She supports him. All that nonsense about being a consultant. He just lives off the Nigger.”

“Stop it. I won’t have you talking like that.” Dylan finally had it.

“It’s the truth. And he’ll bring danger to us all. Wait until the Klan burns our house down.”

“They treated us decently,” Dylan reminded her.

“They were ashamed of us. I didn’t go to the wedding, did I?”

“You caused a scene.”

“Huh. They took one look at us, at our cheap clothes and run down shoes, and they didn’t want us there. Dorothy’s a freak. If you can’t see that you’re the only one.”

Dylan went to her and shook her. He wanted to slap her face.” Never call that little girl a freak again. You understand.”

“She’s a freak like her daddy.” Lisa yelled.

Dylan wanted to slam her against the wall, but he forced himself to calm down. Instead he walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

Bobby Kowalski had been on the road driving an 18 wheeler since five a.m. He had stopped in a bar in Pembine, Wisconsin where he drank more than he intended. The bartender, a pretty brunette, took him home, but tossed him out a few hours later. She said her husband would be home in an hour or two. He bought himself a cup of coffee, ham and eggs at a bus stop down the road and then decided to keep driving.

The law said he couldn’t drive this rig more than ten hours in a 24 hour stretch. He was over that, but his bosses didn’t care. They liked it when he brought a load in early. He looked at his watch. He would be in Mountain Ridge by 5 p.m.

The roads were still slippery from the blizzard, but he had driven on winter roads before. The ice didn’t scare him; he accelerated.

Emil was playing solitaire with a deck of cards while Mary fussed about his kitchen.

“Pa, you need to hire a full-time housekeeper,” she said.

“Costs too much,” He laid one card on top of another and then turned over another.

Dylan came in without knocking, a habit he retained from when he lived there. Emil didn’t care. All of his children were welcome.

“How was the wedding?” Mary asked. “Do you have any pictures?”

Dylan’s reply was to burst into tears. Mary hurried over with a linen napkin and wiped his face.

He finally blurted out the story. “Lisa got all upset. We had to leave right after it was over.”

“I remember Lucinda Rinaldi Davies,” Mary said. “She was beautiful and nice.”

“I worked for her dad for years,” Emil said. “The best boss anyone could have.”

“You remember a couple of years ago when it came out they’re Negros?”

“A bunch of lies if you ask me,” Emil huffed. After a minute, he said. “I don’t care if she’s a Martian. I always liked her dad and heard and saw good things about that girl. If you ask me, Jack Brianka marryied way above his station.”

Mary turned to Dylan. “Too bad you didn’t get a half decent wife like Lucinda Davies,” she said. “What ever possessed you to marry that crazy woman?”

“For a long time I felt kind of crazy myself. What with what happened with Elaine and and” he sobbed “and some of the things I saw in the war.”

“Dylan, you have the worst luck with women.” Mary poured her dad and brother each a cup of coffee. “Just when I thought nothing could be worse than that Elaine demon, you came home and wanted to marry a crazy.” Mary was winding up to give her brother a large piece of her mind. “We warned you, brother, dear.”

Emil hushed her. “You leave Dylan be. He’s made some bad choices. But now we have to figure out how to get this new one, this Lisa, out of the family. I’ll call a friend of mine. He’s a divorce lawyer.”

Dylan blinked tears from his eyes. “Pa, I can’t. She’s sick.”

“Good, we’ll have her put back in Newberry. If you ask me, she never should have gotten out. How did she get out?”

“Jack and Vonnie signed her out.”

“Ain’t they responsible?”

“She’s my wife.”

“We gotta get you out of this marriage,“ Emil insisted.

Mary was nodding yes.

“What about Dorothy?” Dylan asked.

“We’ll take care of her. I raised three daughters. I can help you raise yours,” Emil decided. Mary had three children, two of them daughters. Dorothy would always have a home.

Dylan kept shaking his head. “The Briankas will fight this and Lucinda’s a Brinaka now. That pits a lot of money and influence against us.”

“They ain’t got nothing to say about you getting out of a rotten marriage,” Emil insisted. He was stirring himself up into a real anger. Dylan was his gentlest, kindest son and this woman was tearing him down. That would stop.

“It’s Dorothy, they’ll fight for.” Dylan said. “I don’t want to lose my little girl.” “I thought you said, Lisa didn’t want the kid. Any mother who says her little girl was born with a tail should be strung up and shot.”

“Lisa’ll use Dorothy. She already told me that. I can’t leave her because then I’ll have to leave Dorothy. She calls Dorothy a freak, but if she has to, she’ll hang onto her.”

A half hour later Dylan got in his car. He wiped his eyes and started the ignition. He hated his marriage, but he loved his daughter. He was already divorced once. He just couldn’t divorce another woman. As bad as Lisa could be, he would stay with her.

The snowbank to his right was so tall he could barely see over it.

He backed out of the driveway. He heard the 18 wheeler put on its breaks. Metal screamed.

The truck driver, Bobby Kowalski saw the car slowly pull in front of him. There was no way he could stop in time.

In 1960, candidate John F. Kennedy visited Mountain Ridge. He and his wife, Jacqueline, stayed at Almasy House. Vonnie was nervous. Everything had to be perfect. Lucinda came back to town to greet her old friend, Jacqueline Kennedy. She and Vonnie showed the elegant couple to their rooms.

No one had forgotten that Lucinda was Black, but even the Klan behaved when the Kennedys were in town. After that brief campaign visit, Lucinda joined the Kennedys on their airplane, the Caroline, and flew out of town with them.

“You should have gotten their autographs,” Walt grinned when she saw how excited Vonnie was.

“I didn’t want to impose. They were guests here. Did you see that gorgeous suit Mrs. Kennedy was wearing? I’m a lifelong Democrat,” she declared. “I voted for FDR.”

“What’s that ‘I Like Ike’ ticket doing at your farm?”

“I liked him too. Oh, all right. I did vote for Eisenhower, but I’m back to being a Democrat.”

Dorothy swung gently on her tree swing that her daddy had made for her and enjoyed a John Byrnes novel her Uncle Jack had given her. Penny skipped up to her.

“Guess what.” Penny had the “Detroit Free Press” with her.

“What?” Dorothy said.

“Where do you think your Uncle Jack gets his money?”

“I don’t know?”

“Guess.”

“I said I don’t know,“ Dorothy looked away and then said, “He’s got a rich wife.”

“You don’t think he’s a mob guy? Lots of people say your uncle is connected.”

“No.” Dorothy didn’t really know what to think?

Penny opened the news paper and stuck it on top of her friends’s book. It was an article about the author John Byrnes. and there was a picture.

“That’s my Uncle Jack,” Dorothy said.

“He’s John Byrnes, the writer. You mean your mother never told you.”

Penny 1970

It didn’t take much digging to figure out who Dorothy’s Uncle Jack really was. The book copies he gave his family lacked pictures of the author, but if they had looked carefully at the autographs, they would have seen that John Byrnes, the best selling mystery writer was really Jack Brianka. Jack used connections he made in prison to get his stories. Some of his friends may have been mob guys, and it seems they fed him the stories he wrote.

Who am I to judge? I am a shop lifter, breaker and enterer, liar, snoop.

Usually I keep my secrets to myself, but it gave me some satisfaction to tell Dorothy. Her eyes popped out. She grinned. She likes John Byrnes novels; she loves her uncle.

What can I say? I don’t do many good deeds. This was a first.

Dorothy was pretty upset then about her dad’s accident. She needed some good news.

1960’s

Elaine finally got around to cleaning out Jeff’s papers. They sat in boxes in her closet for years. Then one day, she decided they had to go.

She opened a box and started sorting the papers. She found a copy of Rose’s will and some of Jeff’s back tax filings. She found a letter from Louis Almasy, and she skimmed it. Something about his wife arranging a Ku Klux Klan attack? Why would Rose do that? Of course, Rose was a bigot. Everyone was. Jeff had a whole file on Rose that included a copy of a Rose’s daughter’s birth certificate.

Elaine saw nothing of interest to her, and took the box to the curb the night before garbage pick up. She then went into the house, changed into a robe and slippers and fixed herself a cup of hot chocolate.

She picked p a “TV Guide” and looked over the evening’s programs. “The Price is Right,” and “The Andy Griffith Show” and “I’ve Got A Secret.”

She was ready to turn on the set when she looked outside. A little girl on roller skates sat at the curb reading Jeff’s papers. Elaine got up and went outside. “You, Little Girl. Stop that. Put those papers down.”

Penny Payton looked up, saw the woman in hair curlers and fuzzy robe.

“Put those down this instant,” the woman yelled.

Penny tucked the box under her arm, stood up and rolled away as fast as her skates could take her.

Elaine really should have paid more attention to those papers. She should have burned them. But Penny rescued them. They became one of her prize possessions.

Elaine never knew what she had thrown away.

Emil had a series of heart attacks and died in 1961. Mary bought dozens of newspapers, clipped for the obituary and made sure everyone had a copy.

“Mountain Ridge, Michigan, December 21, 1961, Emil Mynter, age 79, died at Memorial Hospital yesterday. He is survived by seven sons, three daughters,and by several grandchildren.”

The will was read a week later. The savings accounts were placed in a family trust with Mary as President and Elsie as Vice President. The problem was that most of those accounts were kept secret to all except his two oldest daughters.

“Pa always wanted us to bring Alice in.” Mary said. Alice was the younger sister.

Elsie disagreed. “The more people who know about Pa’s wealth, the more questions will be asked. We don’t want anyone to know he found that money.”

They were seated at Mary’s kitchen table. Here the sisters, Mary and Elsie, had often counted money, invested and planned gardens and meals.

Mary made coffee and as always she made it too strong. “Family members know he was wealthy. They’ll have questions anyway, and they will want to be included in the secrets.”

Elsie shook her head. “I don’t trust some of the daughters-in-law. Can we trust Alice’s husband?”

“We’ll just tell them that Pa left money for family emergencies.”

“They’ll all want to know how much.”

“True.”

“Then we have Lisa Brianka to deal with.”

Mary threw up her hands in frustration. “Too much. Too much.”

“We have to keep our secrets,” Elsie concluded. “We have to protect Dylan.”

Mary nodded “And Dorothy. Don’t forget Dorothy.”

“She’s as weird as her mama.”

“Lisa doesn’t want that child.”

“We should have found a way to get her after Dylan’s accident.”

The sisters went back and forth with worries about Lisa and Dorothy, but in the end they knew what they had to do.

1970

The big news at Almasy House was that Lisa was getting out of jail.

Charges dropped.

When I visited Dylan Mynter at the hospital, the nurses were talking about Lisa Mynter.

“What on earth made Miles Olson think he could get a conviction?”

“She could have murdered that kid.”

“Probably wouldn’t even remember if she did.”

I wondered if they had been talking about Lisa in front of Dylan. I would have to explain things anyway. Surely he had a radio and a television.

He was sitting in his wheel chair paralyzed from the neck down. Dr. Tracie says he can talk if he wants to, but Dylan never says anything. He hasn’t talked in years.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been visiting you more,” I said. I brought him a bouquet of dandelions that I picked on the way to the hospital. Dorothy told me a long time ago he liked dandelions. Dandelions are like fathers, easily trampled, under appreciated.

His eyes shifted toward me. I know he hears me because he looks at me and sometimes he looks away and he always looks sad. I know he blames Lisa Brianka for his condition. He isn’t the only one in town who blames her.

That truck driver was on the road too many hours without a break. Dylan Mynter was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He shouldn’t have pulled out so quickly with those huge snowbanks.

“You know she didn’t do it,” I told him. “If you believed she killed Vonnie’s son all those years ago, why did you marry her?”

He didn’t answer. He never does.

“You’ll be glad to know that serial killer who menaced the area all those years ago is getting strapped to the electric chair next week. Miles went down to visit him.” I was making small talk now.

He tried to make a sound like “Dah”

“I haven’t heard from Dorothy,” I said.

He looked away.

“You want to hear what’s happening to Lisa?”

I saw tears in his eyes, and I didn’t know how to interpret them.

When Lisa was released, Vonnie and I went to the jailhouse. Jack wanted to come and wait in the car, but he agreed to wait for us at Almasy House.

He couldn't let Miles Olson see him. Sure he had a fake identity including driver’s license, fake mustache and beard, but he wouldn’t be fooling Miles.

Lisa’s brother could be tossed back in prison. How much time would he get for violating a parole condition? We were all surprised Jack had not already been arrested. Surely Miles knew he was here.

Vonnie drove Lisa and me home. Danni made baked ham, gnocchi, garlic bread, and camomile tea. Lisa had noticeably lost weight while in jail, and she looked really wretched.

“What happened?” Vonnie asked her when we got to the apartment. “Miles didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Lisa didn’t answer. She just looked at Vonnie like she was remembering something too horrible to put into words.

Lisa sat down and ate and ate. She had not been eating in jail. The food there is probably awful. And she must have been too afraid to eat anything. Yet when Danni had brought food to her cell, Danni says Lisa ate then. It just hadn’t been enough.

The rest of us ate after we were sure Lisa’s plate was full, and she could easily reach for more. Then Danni took Lisa into her bedroom and gave her some sort of a sedative.

Vonnie turned to me. “Make yourself a bed on the sofa. I brought over extra blankets.”

“Thanks,” I said. Somehow I hoped I could escape back to Cheney farm house. But I knew someone would have to stay with Lisa, and we could not impose more on Danni.

Then Vonnie went back to Almasy House. Danni had written out instructions, but she still went over the medication rules with me.

“What about me? I need a sedative,” I joked. Danni didn’t seem to get it. She was in doctor mode and had lost her sense of humor. Anyway, I took the pills and thanked her.

“How is Dylan taking all of this?” Danni asked. “I heard you visited him.”

“Not well,” I admitted.

Jack had already left. Everyone told me to call if Lisa needed anything. They even wrote down their phone numbers.

“I know the numbers.” I said.

Almasy House

Jack Brianka and Ben Fuller poured themselves drinks in the kitchen at Almasy House.

Something had been making Ben uneasy since he first heard about the case. “What about that girl, Penny?”

“What about her?” Jack poured himself more brandy.

“Seems like she’s got more reason to dislike Lisa Brianka than anyone. Do you trust her?”

Jack shook her head. “Nobody trusts Penny. Sometimes I think she’s as crazy as Lisa is.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“Working. She’s one the maids.”

Penny

Lisa was in bed; the others had gone home. Channel Six had “Bonanza” reruns I turned on the television with the volume low. When the doorbell rang, I hurried to answer it. I didn’t want anything to wake Lisa up. She could be difficult to handle. Bev came in with a bottle of sloe gin. “Got any orange juice?” she asked.

I nodded and led the way to the kitchen. We poured ourselves generous portions of liquor. “How did you know I was still here?”

“I work at the Yorkie Cafe. I get all the news.”

“How much of that news is true?


 “That’s what I’m here to find out.” She glanced at the television. “Little Joe is so cute.” She smiled at the Cartwrights on the television set. "Where is your cat?” She sat down on the couch.

I nodded toward the window sill where Thaddeus and Miss Kitty were napping. “Keep it down; Lisa’s sleeping.”

“So did she do it?


 I sighed and considered for a minute. “She couldn’t have killed Little Louis; she was locked in the outdoor john.”

“Yeah, right. Does it make you nervous staying here?”

“I’ve known Lisa a long time,“ I said.

“Have you ever seen her do anything violent?”

I shook the ice cubes in my glass. “You know better than to ask.”

Lisa

In the bedroom Lisa Brianka stood behind the door listening. Why was Penny still here? She’d cause trouble. Penny always caused trouble. She had to get rid of Penny.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Miles

Miles knew he had to kill Lisa. It would be easier now that she had gotten out of his jail.

At least getting away with it would be easier. How could he be expected to murder a prisoner in his own jail? There would be too many questions. And he couldn’t keep her in jail. The evidence was too thin. She hadn’t committed that murder. Sonny had killed Little Louis. And Sonny threatened to talk; it wouldn’t delay his execution, but it would put Miles in prison.

Who knew what Sonny would say before they strapped him in? Sonny wanted Lisa dead, and Miles had to kill her.

The execution was days away.

He had that hippie girl Penny to deal with too. If Penny Payton was going to be a problem, she could be easily dispensed with too.

He knew what he had to do, and he had to do it quickly.

Penny

Bev went home after we had shared a few drinks, and watched the rest of “Bonanaza.”

Lisa was in very rough state. I know being arrested for murder is scary, but something else seems to be troubling her. She walked into the kitchen where I was cleaning up.

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” I asked.

“What do you care?” she asked.

“I work for Vonnie,” I told her. “I get paid to care.” That answer seemed to satisfy her.

Then she said, “There was a hanged man.”

I didn’t say anything Id heard her talk about hanged men before. I knew it was all in her imagination.

“In the jail cell with me.”

“Lisa, I’m pretty sure that you imagined the hanged man there.”

“No. No. No.” She kept repeating it louder and louder each time until it became a scream. When she calmed down, I said, “Let’s see what’s on television,” I picked up the “TV Guide” and began thumbing through its pages.

Lisa said, “I could kill somebody, you know. And get away with it. I’m crazy.” She paused. “You remember that the next time you talk about me.”

Almasy House

The next morning Ben Fuller finished breakfast and then went over to talk to Jack. “I need a favor.”

“Shoot,” Jack said.

“We’re still looking in the tunnels. We found a few bodies in the south side.”

“Maybe that priest was right. He said he saw bodies of murdered women.”

“Thing is some of the tunnels are hard to get to. I was thinking we could go through Almasy House. There’s a door or something downstairs, right.”

Jack nodded. “We keep it locked.”

“We’re working with a few mining engineers from Michigan Tech, and Mary Mynter Smith let us use her dad’s maps. Would you let us use your access?”

“I just hope I don’t have to go in there with you.”

Penny

The next morning, Lisa and I came into the foyer as Jack and that police captain were leaving. “Is there a problem?” Jack asked.

“We have a shift starting in 20 minutes.”

“Lisa, why don’t you take a few days off?” Jack asked.

“No,” she answered.

I decided to stand up for her. “She’s not an infant, Jack. She can care for herself.”

“Okay, but if she gets tired, you both high tail it back to the apartment. Watch soaps the rest of the day.”

Jack

“What happened to the body?” Ben asked.

“Hmm,” Jack was only half listening. They sat at a table in the corner of the Almasy House kitchen.

“If your dad was lynched, what did they do with the body?”

“Rose had henchmen. Some of them were in the Detroit Mafia. At least that is what I was told.”

“She would have been dealing mostly with the Purples, the Jewish mob. Would they have helped cover an act of such antiSemitism?”

Jack shook his dead. “I don’t know. There were other mobsters who came through here. Capone. Dillinger.”

“They were mob bosses. They weren’t going to get their hands dirty by removing a body.”

“Look, I don’t know. I was a kid remember, and I spent most of my time that night in the cellar. Hiding. I was scared. Do you think I crawled out and watched them?” Jack tossed his cigarette in an ashtray.

“Take it easy,” Ben assured him. I’m just saying. Something is missing from the story. And it isn’t the missing body. That would be easy to dispose of. Something just isn’t jelling.”

“Like?”


 “Rose Almasy’s motive.”

Jack just shook his head. There were a lot of answers he didn’t have. “Why was your mother’s funeral at Almasy House?”

“Maybe Mrs. Almasy felt guilty. We didn’t see much of her. And anyway that was when her husband killed himself right there in the house.”

“Were you there then when he killed himself?”

“We heard the shot. Then there was a big commotion. We didn’t see much. Someone told us to stay in our rooms. We were locked in and scared. Lisa had tried to crawl in my mother’s coffin.”

“So Rose Almasy takes in three little children.”

“We were just here until after our mother was buried. And for awhile after that. Something about making arrangements to take us to the orphanage. The Catholic orphanage didn’t want us. We were Jews.”

“From what I’ve heard old Rose was no philanthropist, except for the Catholic Church. And if she hated Jews so much, why did she take in three little Jewish kids even if it was for just a few days or a week?”

Jack shrugged. “I stopped trying to figure out people in this town a long time ago.”

Louisiana State Prison

Sonny’s time was limited. He knew his extensions were running out. Even if he gave them a few more locations of missing bodies, it wouldn’t get him more time. And he didn’t have that many more to give them.

“Get the warden in,” he called to the guard outside his cell.

“Don’t worry. He’s gonna come and see you again before you fry. ” The guard, a kid barely out of his teens with a pimply face and a scare crow skinny body smiled through yellow teeth.

“I got a confession to make.”

“Okay. Okay.” the kid moved away too slowly.

“Tell ‘em to get that Michigan sheriff up here too. He’s gonna need to hear this.”

Sonny grinned to himself. Should he give Miles a warning. The asshole was probably buying a ticket to Argentina right now.

Of course, Ole Miles there in Michigan had an easier action he could take. How difficult could it be to kill Lisa Brianka and that nosey girl, Penny?

Penny

Sonny’s execution was two days away. Like most of the rest of the town, I was keeping up with the story in the newspaper. We were part of Sonny’s story. He had performed his most dastardly deeds in and around Mountain Ridge.

I had lunch at the Yorkie Cafe.

“I had an aunt who disappeared in 1937,” an old timer was saying. “She might be buried in one of them there tunnels.”

“They about through taking bodies out?”

“Ain’t gonna be another stay of execution, is there?”

At least they weren’t talking about the Briankas. Or asking me questions. I finished my sandwich and coffee and walked back to Lisa’s apartment where Yvonne Cheney was doing a crossword puzzle on the kitchen table.

“How’s Lisa,” I asked.

“Sleeping. You could eat here, you know. I don’t like leaving Lisa alone.”

“So fire me. I’m supposed to be the maid here. When did I apply for the job of baby sitter?”

“I need you, Penny. Lisa doesn’t do well with most people.”

“She doesn’t do well with me.”

“I know,” Vonnie said and left.

Mary Mynter Smith was in the museum when I went back to work at Almasy Houee. “Penny,” she called to me, “I need to see you.” As usual she was dressed immaculately in a gray business suit. Mrs. Smith is tall and has a dancer’s posture.

She took a seat behind the main desk at the museum. “I wish you would look for those missing records. We’ve got an author writing the history of Almasy House. He wants to see the marriage and death certificates for Rose Almasy. He thinks her daughter might still be alive.”

“Missing records?” I tried to look puzzled.

“All the early records concerning the Briankas, seem to be missing too. Birth records, their parents’ marriage records.”

“I’m sure they’re here,“ I said.

“It’s odd. They disappeared from the courthouse too. And I don’t know if we ever got around to copying them here. But we must have. You were in charge. You copied most of them.”

“I copied what was there,” I said truthfully.

“Penny, you don’t have any idea where this records are, do you?”

“They don’t have anything to do with the Mynters,” I reminded her. It was a clear stall. I hoped she didn’t see that.

“They belong to the town, not to you.” she told me.

“Look, I’m too busy now. I don’t have time to go around looking for missing birth certificates.” Would that be the end of it?

“Penny, how far will you go to protect the Briankas?”

It wasn’t the Briankas I was trying to protect. Did I have to remind her that her dad’s fortune may not even belong to the Mynters or that some secrets were best hidden in my boxes of stolen treasures.

Miles

When Miles came back to the office from patrol, his dad was waiting for him. “What’re you doing here. dad?”

“I’m interested in what’s happening. Those serial killers were operating on my watch.”

“What do you mean, killers? It was just Sonny Cain.”

“There were two of them. The Medical examiners are saying the strangulations are different. Some of the women were stabbed.”

“That don’t mean it wasn’t the work of just one man. Cain confessed.”

“And he’s still saying he’s got more to tell before he fries. He wants you down there.”

Mills sat down at his desk. “Wouldn’t be surprised if old Cain did try to take someone with him. Can’t take the word of a killer.”


 “How about the word of a medical examiner and some detectives from the crime lab?”

“They going to delay the execution again?”

“He’s had about all the delays he’s going to get.” Leo said.

The two men were silent for awhile. Then Leo grabbed his hat. “Sure would like to know who Cain is covering for.”

“He ain’t covering for nobody. If there was another killer operating here, he’s long gone.”

Leo smiled slightly. “Wouldn’t that be something if he were right here in town. Right under our noses.”

Leo knew he should want to find the other killer who had terrorized his town. Trouble was he thought he knew who the killer was, and he hoped he was wrong. The old man closed the door.

Penny

I put in almost a full eight hours cleaning rooms. My salary is still tripled because I’m caring for Lisa. But I wasn’t working extra hours to pad my paycheck. After my shift I spent an hour in the museum.

“Well, Miss Nosey,” Lisa said when I got back to her apartment.

“So I seem to have to a new name.”

“You have lots of new names,” she told me. “You know things, don’t you. About my family. About me.”


 “I’ve heard the same gossip everyone else hears. I’m just smart enough not to believe it”

Lisa snorted.

“Lisa, did you know the man in Louisiana? The one they’re about to electrocute.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. This killer gives me the creeps. It scares me that’s all. You and Vonnie were here all that time he was targeting young women.”

“I miss Dorothy. She never comes to visit,” Lisa said. “Maybe you can get her visit.”

“I think I have a better chance of getting her cut off her big toes.“ I said. “Anyway I don’t see Dorothy anymore either. Lisa, she hates this town.”

“You made her hate it. You made her hate me. You were always telling her, how awful I am.”

Miles

Miles knew that if he was going to kill Lisa it had to be tonight. Norm wanted proof that Lisa was dead. Otherwise Norm would make a last confession, and Miles knew what that meant. He had been with Norm on more than one kill. Now Norm said he had proof. Just the accusation would probably be enough. What proof could there be?

Weren’t those fancy cops at the crime lab saying there was more than one killer? He’d be looked at too closely if Norm made accusations.

Norm still had time to give details. Convincing details.

Penny

Lisa was watching “The Price Is Right;’ the cats were curled up together sleeping. I decided I could take a short nap. I went to Lisa’s room, closed the door and laid down on her bed.

The doorbell rang and kept ringing. Why wasn’t Lisa answering it? Reluctantly I got up and started toward the door. But the door flung open. Vonnie stood there. “Where’s Lisa?”

The television was still on. McCloud wore his big cowboy hat, and he was solving some crime. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “She was here.”

“We’d better find her,” Vonnie said and hurried out the door. When I caught up with her, Vonnie was already in the parking lot. The front desk clerk had seen Lisa walk past heading toward the kitchens. Vonnie and I went to the kitchen. It was empty. But the cellar door was open.

“Why would she go down there?” I asked.

“Lisa’s always been afraid of the dark. She wouldn’t go down there. I asked her to do some work down there once. She refused.”

Vonnie and I walked down the stairs. I tried not to remember that this was where Jeff Hollander died. The furnace looked like the body of a beached whale. Tool cabinets sat on the other side. Walt worked here most days. She wasn’t here now. The door to the tunnels was wide open.

“She wouldn’t go in there,” Vonnie said.

“Call the police,” I said, “I’ll go in after her.”

“You’ll get lost,” Vonnie said.

I grabbed a flashlight and box of soda crackers off Walt’s desk. “I’ll leave a trail.” I said “I’m not going very far in there. Don’t worry.”

Vonnie nodded and hurried off.

Inside the tunnel was black. It reminded me of a carnival spook house I had been in once. Dorothy and I had hurried through it. She kept screaming. I kept my cool.

“Lisa,” I crept further into the tunnel. “Lisa.”

“Over here,” she called back in a childlike voice.

I crumbled a cracker, and dropped the crumbs. I hoped Walt kept fresh batteries in her flashlight.

“Lisa keep talking. You can guide me with your voice.”

No answer.

I stopped and crumpled up another cracker. Then I moved forward again. I crumbled another cracker.

“Lisa.”

No answer.

I shouted louder, crumbled another cracker and moved forward. Then I heard her sobbing and moved toward that sound.

She was sitting against the wall of the tunnel with tears streaming down her face.

“Lisa, it’s okay. I’m here.”

She kept sobbing. She made no attempt to get up. I reached for her hand to pull her up, but she pulled me down beside her. “Vonnie is getting help. She’s calling the police.”

“They won’t come. Miles is the police.”

“She’ll call the state police, not the sheriff’s office. Ben Fuller is staying at Almasy House.” I reassured her.

“Miles will take the call. He’ll come and kill us.”

I tried to hush her. “No one is going to hurt us.”

She looked at me like she didn’t know who I was. “Dorothy,” she said.

“I’m Penny.”

She just stared at me. “Where’s Dorothy? What happened to her?”

“I don’t know, Lisa. What made you cone down here?” I asked.

“I heard a cat crying.”

“Lisa, there can’t be a cat down here.”

“I heard it.”

“If he got in,” I said, “he can get out. The cat will be okay. Now let’s leave. “I started to stand up, and I pulled her up with me.

Then I heard a click. I have never heard a gun cocked except on television. I grew up watching westerns, so I knew the sound.

Leo held a flashlight in one hand, a gun in the other. “Did Vonnie call you?” I asked.

“I met her on the stairs. I told her I’d find you.”

“Thank you,” I said. Then I turned to Lisa. “Other officers should be here shortly. We can go now.”

Leo had not out the gun down. “Vonnie, the queer one,” he said. “She was going to get others. Unfortunately she had a little accident. Fell down the stairs, just like Jeff Hollander did. Hit her head pretty hard.”

“What?”

“She tripped on the stair. Could happen to anyone.” He still held the gun pointed toward us.

“You killed her?”

“She tripped, Dorothy.”

“My name is Penny,” I said.

“Penny is your doll and your imaginary playmate. You wanted everyone to call you’ve Penny since your dad’s accident.”

“No,” I wasn’t ready to be Dorothy again. I never wanted to be Dorothy.

“Help us find the cat,” Lisa said. “There’s a cat lost down here.”

“He’s going to kill us” I said. “He can’t have any witnesses.”

“Such a smart little girl,” Leo said “Nosey little Dorothy.”

He pointed the gun right at Lisa. She made a small gasping sound.

“Tell me why.” I demanded. “Why are you killing us? Your little escapade with the Klan killing her father, my grandfather, that’s forgotten. Anyway I think you tried to stop it.”

“I did. I pulled men away. I tried to get to the man before he swung. I didn’t know my son and his friend were in the bushes. They watched. Those boys were only ten years old, and they watched.”

“It turned them both into serial killers.” I said. I had suspected it for awhile.

“I shouldn’t have let it go on.”

“Why did you?”

“At first, I didn’t know. Didn’t believe it. Then I wanted to turn him in. He’s my son I couldn’t do it.” He pointed the gun at me this time. “Sonny wants Lisa dead. It’s the price he asks for his silence. He won’t turn Miles in if Lisa dies.” He nodded to where the tunnel wound left. “Start walking. Both of you.”

Miles

When Miles arrived at Almasy House, he saw the lights on in Lisa’s apartment. That hippy girl, Penny was probably there. He’d have to kill her too. He removed the gun from his holster, and checked the gun. Then he put it back.

A gun was too noisy. There was bound to be a scarf or towel laying about. He could get the job done.

He started up the drive to Lisa’s apartment.

Penny

“So what are you going to do? Beat us to death and then say there was some kind of a cave in? Is that what you’re going to do? It won’t work. The autopsy will show…”

“Shut up and start walking.” he barked.

Lisa and I just stood there. If he was going to kill us, why not just do it there where we stood?

“I’ve got handcuff’s and there’s a chamber back there. I’ll wall you in.”

So we would die like a character in an Edgar Allen Poe novel, imprisoned with no chance of escape. “Then how will you prove to Sonny that you killed us? I asked.

He waved the gun toward the tunnel where he wanted us to go. I gripped the sides of the tunnel. I’d find a way to get a handful of sand. I’d toss it in his face.

Instead something shot out of the darkness and hit Leo’s wrist. He dropped the gun and then clutched his wrist like a gunfighter who has just been outdrawn in a television western. He reached for a second gun in his vest pocket. A second missile came and this time Leo fell over like a sack of potatoes tossed aside.

Jack Brianka rushed toward us. He held Lisa in his arms as she cried. Behind him stood Ben Fuller, the police captain holding a gun.

“Where did you guys come from?” I asked letting my breath out.

Jack explained that he and Captain Fuller were finishing dinner at the Almasy House dining room when they saw Miles creeping around outside. “We decided we had better find out what this is all about.”

“What is it about?” I asked.

“You know about that convict down in Louisiana? The serial killer who was working Michigan highways.”

I nodded. “He used to be one of you guys,” I said to Captain Fuller. “He was a state trooper.”

“We’re not real proud of that. It took us awhile to figure out who the killer was. Then he got caught down south. We kept in touch with Louisiana authorities. We always knew Sonny had help. We knew there were two killers.”

“Miles was the other one. Leo just told us. “I didn’t add that I had already put it together.

“They were always good pals.” Lisa said. “We used to call him Sonny, but his real first name was Norm. He was there hiding in the bushes when my pa was…you know….”

“I know,” Captain Fuller said.

“If you knew Miles was a serial killer, why didn’t you arrest him?”

“We needed some proof. We’ve been reading and deciphering Norm’s communication. We got a professional cryptographer, a guy who worked in the war, and we’ve been reading Sonny’s mail. He wanted Miles to kill Lisa and you, Penny.” The retired trooper smiled. “Or is it Dorothy.”

“I can be Dorothy,” I said. Lately it didn’t matter so much anymore if people knew I was a crazy lady’s daughter, and if some people said I was born with a tail.

“Anyway, we got Miles. He was arrested a few minutes ago. Norm says it was Miles who killed the little boy Louis all those years ago. Miles is saying it was Norm.”

Lisa started crying, “I knew it was them. All those years ago, I knew it was them. I heard their voices and their laughter. I knew it was them. But I was so afraid of them.”

“It’s okay, Lisa.” I said.

Leo had indeed tripped Vonnie on the stairs. He had knocked her out and probably planned to come back and kill her. She went to the hospital, and stayed overnight for observation, but she was all right.

It was Walt who noticed the cellar door open, and who found Vonnie on the steps. Walt ran for help and found Jack and Captain Fuller, who had just arrested Miles.

Leo’s body was removed from the tunnels. What possessed him to try and kill us? Did he really think he could protect Miles.

I took Lisa back to the apartment, and then went back to my box of treasures. Say what you want about me. I am a thief, and a liar, but I don’t destroy the truth. I keep it, protect it.

I pulled out a collection of index cards and copies of birth certificates. The originals are at the state capital in Lansing. I had stolen these copies from the museum and from the courthouse when I was copying birth and death records. These records revealed something everyone in this town had forgotten. Jeff Hollander knew, but he was long dead.

There were copies in that box of papers I took from the curb outside Elaine’s house. Also in those papers was Louis Almasy’s confession, mailed to Jeff Hollander the night Louis shot himself.

Had Hollander lived, he would have wanted these records destroyed. I am not sure why he kept them as long as he did. Perhaps at one time, he thought he could blackmail Rose if he needed to.

Almasy House and Rose’s bank accounts should never have passed into Hollander’s possession.

It was time for me to tell the truth.

“What’s this,” Lisa asked picking up a sheet of paper.

“It’s a birth certificate for Martha, your mother. I made the museum card, but didn’t put it with the other cards. I stole the birth certificate from the courthouse.” I confessed. Lisa looked confused. I explained. “Your mother’s maiden name was Martha Almasy. She was Rose Almasy’s daughter. Martha was a beautiful head strong girl who married a penniless Jewish miner.

“Rose wanted her daughter back, and she hired the Klan to scare her husband out of town. They scared her daughter to death instead; the Klansmen were so drunk, they didn’t know what they were doing. They lynched your father, just like you always knew they did. You saw it happen.”

I paused and let Lisa take in some of this information. It was just Lisa and me. Uncle Jack had gone to the hospital to be with Vonnie.

“Why would she do that?”

“Prejudice,” I answered. “Hate. Anyway it set in motion a lot of really bad things. Two very young boys saw the lynching, and it made them crazy. They for some reason seemed to enjoy the killing. They became hunters, killing animals and when that wasn’t enough for them they started targeting young women. They became serial killers.”

By law, Uncle Jack shouldn’t have had to buy Almasy House. It should have gone to you, Vonnie and Jack as an inheritance after Rose died. But then he bought it for back taxes which he would have had to pay anyway.”

Lisa smiled. “Penny,” she said, “Someday all that snooping of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

The End

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Chapter Nineteen

The juke box played, “Come Rain or Come Shine” by Margaret Whiting. Yvonne Cheney finished putting her coins in the juke box and moved toward the bar where her coat lay draped over one of the stools.

A fresh drink awaited her. The bar tender pointed to a man at the other end of the bar. He had redneck written on his sunburned face and calloused hands. He wore dark blue work pants, work shirt and black cowboy boots. Yvonne walked up to him and handed him the drink. “Thanks, but I’m through for the night.”

“What? You aren’t even going to listen to the songs you just paid for?” The voice was high pitched for a man; a Peter Laurie voice.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to drink while I listen.”

“Why don’t we both listen?”


 “So long as you know I’m going home alone.”

“Do you have a husband at home?”

“Maybe.” It was her turn to ask a question. “You just passing through?”

“Something like that. I have a renovation job. I’m a carpenter.”

“Tell me about it.”

“This big old spooky house. It used to be a boarding house, house of ill repute, something like that.”

“Almasy House? You have to be kidding.” She took the drink he had purchased for her. “Tell me about it.”

Before they said good night and went their separate ways, they exchanged names. “Walters. Lorretta Walters. Call me Walt.”

Vonnie realized her mistake.

“But you’re dressed like a man, and your hair is so short.”

“I’m a carpenter. They don’t hire many lady carpenters. If they think I’m Walt, I have a better chance of getting a job and keeping it.”

“Where are you staying?” Vonnie asked.

“My car. A hotel is pretty expensive.”

“Come out to my farm. I’ve got room.” “I thought you said you were going home alone.”

“I thought you might be hitting on me.”

“Who says I’m not hitting on you?”




Lisa walked through the Brandt house. It was small; she knew she wouldn’t get a mansion like the one the Rinaldis had lived in, but this house was dumpy. She wouldn’t even be able to keep a dog. It wasn’t fit for a dog house.

Dylan walked her through the house, showing her the bathroom, the utility room, the kitchen, the two bedrooms. He seemed proud of it. You would think he had built the house himself.

She thought it would be a nice house for Emil. After all it was Emil’s fault they couldn’t stay in the other house. Emil disgusted her.

“Fine,” she finally said. Then she could’t help herself. She had to add. “Anything to be away from that dirty old man.”

Dylan had his back to her. He was gazing into a closet. When she called his dad a dirty old man, he whipped around like he had been punched.

Mary rattled off the figures. She and Elsie sat at Emil’s kitchen table doing their once a month audit. The lawyer in Detroit who had set up a family trust had been told only that Emil had inherited some money and made more money by working in the mines and by investing. It was believable. After all, Emil had been one of the top mining engineers in the country.

“Are you listening, Pa?” Mary asked.

Emil was still stunned by Lisa’s accusations and his mind had wandered.

“Sure,” he pulled himself back to the present.

“What gives?” Mary asked. Elsie got up to pour a cup of coffee.

Emil sat silent. He didn’t want to talk about Lisa’s accusation.

“Dad, you have to tell us. Did something happen? Why are Dylan and Lisa moving out?”

Emil tried to change the subject. “What’s the name of that coin shop on Woodward in Detroit? You girls always do well there.”

The girls knew when he was being evasive.

“It has to do with Lisa, doesn’t it,” Mary said.

Elsie shook her head. “Dylan is such a great guy. How does he get mixed up with these losers? Elaine was bad enough.”

“Lisa is ill,” Emil cut his second oldest daughter off.

Elsie agreed. “She’s a mental case. Why did we ever let Dylan marry her?
 “Out with it, Pa.” Mary prodded. “What happened? What’s the trouble with Lisa?”

Emil wasn’t one to cry. He hadn’t cried when his wife died, but he thought about the night Lisa walked down the stairs in her slip and the accusations she made. He found his eyes wet with tears. He slowly told his daughters the story.

“You have to go back to your husband,” Vonnie told her sister. “You belong with Dylan.”

“I don’t love him. I don’t even like him.”

“You need him.”

They were sitting in Vonnie’s kitchen drinking green tea and eating snicker doodle cookies with lots of sugar and cinnamon. Vonnie had picked Lisa up early that day and driven her to the farm.

“We’ll get a divorce,” Lisa decided.

“It’s not that easy,” Vonnie insisted.

“He’s been divorced before.”

“Stop this nonsense. I’m going to drive you home. I don’t want to hear anymore about a divorce or leaving Dylan.”

“Why can’t I stay here? I stayed here before.”


 “Because, just because.” Vonnie said. She wasn’t ready to tell Lisa yet about Walt, the lady carpenter who now stayed at the farm with her.

When the phone rang, Vonnie found it a welcome interruption from Lisa’s childish whining. She reached for the phone. “Jack, great to hear from you.” Vonnie sighed. “One of us needs to talk some sense into Lisa.”

As Vonnie explained Lisa’s unhappiness, Lisa stuck out her tongue at her.

Vonnie smiled because it was such a childish gesture. Her little sister had missed some growing up.

“I’ll talk to her,” Jack promised. “First, I need to talk to you. Almasy House is being restored.”

“I know,” Vonnie said. “I met a carpenter working on the job.”

“The new owners are sparing no expense. The house should be ready in a couple of months.”

“Ready for what?”

“They’re turning it into a bed and breakfast.”

“Who would stay in that spooky old thing?” Vonnie sat down remembering the night when she and her siblings had been taken to Almasy House. She remembered the stern old lady and the room where she and Jack and Lisa had been locked. Memories of Almasy House brought her back to a sad time.

“They’re looking for someone to manage the house. I suggested you.” Jack said.

“What? Who? Who bought the house?”

“It’s s secret,” Jack said.

“I don’t like secrets. Why would they want to hire me?”

“Lucinda and I both put in a good word for you.”

“And I don’t even get to know who I’m working for?”

“The new owners prefer to remain anonymous.”


 “Well I want to know who they are. Jack, it’s not the mob? is it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No one wants to open those old tunnels, do they?”

“No. Vonnie, the house will be practically new. Talk to your carpenter friend. Restoring that old place is costing a lot of money.”

“But the mob isn’t who bought the house?”

“I give you my word.” he said.

Vonnie sat down heavily. “How much are they paying?”

Emil stared at his glass of wine; he swirled and purple liquid about. “I haven’t been inside those tunnels in twenty years,” he said after a moment.

“No one has.” said Jack Brianka.

Jack trusted the older man not to say anything about the visit. As an ex con, he was still bound by the terms of his parole. Of course, he visited his sisters, but no one knew about that. He settled into one of Emil’s oversized easy chairs. He felt comfortable in Emil’s house, and had gotten a warm welcome though Jack knew Lisa had been less than cooperative while living here. Lisa and Dylan had moved out of the house. But that had nothing to do with Jack’s business in Mountain Ridge or his visit to Emil.

He told Emil his client had bought Almasy House and was paying Jack to research any dangers within or underneath the house.

Emil said, “I personally made sure the tunnels that connected with the mines were closed.”

Jack looked confused. “Why connect bootlegging tunnels to the mining tunnels?

“Confusion. With those tunnels, the bootleggers could go to ground at any time. I’m sure they had escape routes.”

“Someone must have known their way around down there.”

Emil shrugged. “The tunnels are a maze. I don’t know if Rose kept maps or not, but I suspect she didn’t. It was easy to add new routes. She could hire different crews for each digging. Some tunnels led nowhere. They were just there to confuse anyone who came looking. Only a fool would explore those tunnels.”

“But you explored?”

“It was my job,” Emil admitted. “Mr. Rinaldi knew she must have been using some of his tunnels. He didn’t like it. Catching her was something else. If we found one of her tunnels, she’s say it was an old mining tunnel. Dozens of tunnels crisscrossed each other under the town. She didn’t have to admit any of them belonged to her.”

“What exactly, did you do?”


 “I knew Mr. Rinaldi’s tunnels and those of the other mine owners. We had maps.”

“Where are those maps now?”

“I don’t rightly know. They’re property of the mines and now that the mines are closed, I just don’t know what happened to the maps.” Emil had his own copies, but he decided not to admit this. “You might ask Lucinda Rinaldi what happened to her dad’s copies”

“So you explored in just the mine tunnels?”

“I didn’t say that. I explored some of Roses’s tunnels. I had notes back then. It’s been a lot of years.”

“Jeff Hollander, you remember him. He used to be a priest in this area. He died about ten or twelve years back when he fell down some stairs at Almasy House.”

Emil snorted. He knew the priest. “What about him?”

“He said he came across the bodies of murdered women down there.” “There might be bones. Treasure hunters go in there or used to go in there.”

“So you don’t think there are bodies of murdered women down there. Maybe the work of a serial killer.”

“Anything’s possible. I just never came across any bodies. I understand the sheriff sent a deputy down to look, and he didn’t find anything.” He paused. “I do remember what looked like manmade tunnel collapsed in one of Rose’s tunnels right after the priest came out with his crazy story. I didn’t think it was worth exploring what might be back there. Too dangerous. And it would be the law’s job, not mine.”

“What about treasure?” Jack asked.

“That’s the thing we want to discourage. There ain’t any treasure down there and anyone going down looking is liable to get lost and die down there.” Emil was sure he himself had taken the whole stash. There were no other stashes. He had looked. He wasn’t sure who the jewelry and old coins he had taken out would belong to, but as far as he was concerned, they were his now. He wondered if he should go back down for one last look. No, he had explored the area close to the house. That’s where Rose kept her treasure.

“Thank you for your time,“ Jack said as he gathered his brief case and prepared to leave. “Please don’t tell anyone I was here.”

“Don’t worry,” Emil said. But now he had a question. “About your sister?”

“Thank you so much for buying Lisa and Dylan that house down the way. I saw it, and it’s a great house.”

“I would have liked for them to stay here, but Lisa… Well, we didn’t get along. I’m sorry for any misunderstanding.”

Jack didn’t know the details, but he knew Lisa well enough to know that if there had been a misunderstanding, it was probably her doing. He wasn’t sure what to say and settled for, “She’s had a rough time.”

Vonnie stood on the sidewalk outside Almasy House. Painters applied fresh coats of paint; ladders rested against the side of the house. Carpenters rushed here and there. Two men carried a white washed board across the lawn. The windows were clean and unbroken. A gardener trimmed the bushes. The house was clearly getting a new look.

Perhaps the old ghosts could be chased away, and the house contain a new energy. She smiled at the thought but wasn’t sure if she believed it.

Did the new owners have an office in town? Who were these new owners?

She was unprepared for who opened the door. “Jack! What are you doing in town? Why didn’t you tell me? You could be staying at the farm.”


 “I heard you had a roommate,“ he winked at her. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“There’s plenty of space. And what do you know about my roommate?”

“To mind my own business and to be happy you’ve found someone.”

How much did she want to tell Jack or anyone else about Walt. There were many who would not understand the relationship, and Vonnie sure didn’t want Walt to lose her job. She must remember that if she spoke about Walt she would use the masculine pronoun.

Walt needed people to think she was a he.

“I’m here for a job interview,” Vonnie said. “Do I meet my employer?”

“You already have the job. No need for an interview. I’m just here to make sure you accept the offer.”

“What is the offer?”

“You manage Almasy House, a bed and breakfast, restaurant and bar. It’ll be the most elegant hotel in Upper Michigan, and the rival of anything in Michigan or Wisconsin. You make all hiring and firing decisions and have complete autonomy.”

“I know nothing about managing any of those things. Hotel. Restaurant. Bar.

“You’ll learn. The owners will send you to training at Northern Michigan University. Tuition, books, room and board all paid for. It’s a one-year program. When you graduate the house will be waiting for you.”

“That’s generous. Why me?”


 “I recommended you. So did Lucinda.”

“How is Lucinda? And the girls. I miss them all so much.”

“They just got back from an around the world cruise. Luxury liners are the thing now.”

“I wish you two hadn’t broken up. I could see her now and then.”

He shrugged. “We’re still friends. The break up was her idea. So what do you say?”

“What’s the salary?”

He handed her a sheet of paper with numbers written in.

“That’s more than I ever made in five years before.”

“You were a maid then; now you get to supervise maids.”

“It says here plus perks. What are those perks?”

“Free health care, and a room here in the mansion. There’s a company vehicle, that you get to drive, so you won’t need your own car.”

“I don’t need a room of my own here.”

“You get an office and a suite of rooms attached to it. You’ll be keeping some late hours, so why not have a bedroom and kitchenette here? Of course, you can always order room service, and as the boss, you get it free.”

“I want to know who I’m working for?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Jack.”

“You’d be a fool to turn this down, Vonnie. Take the offer. You can quit anytime.”

“Who owned the house before these new owners took over?” she asked.

“The city had to take it over for back taxes. You know what happened to Jeff Hollander?”

“He supposedly fell down the stairs.” She didn’t want to get into town gossip that maybe Hollander had been pushed to his death by his girlfriend, Elaine Dabb. People said he had been willing to leave the priesthood, but not to marry Elaine.

“Do you think the house’s history will affect its success. Louis Almasy committed suicide here. Jeff Hollander died violently here.” She paused. “A lot of people think Hollander was murdered. That kind of thing can spook some people away. They may not even want to eat or drink here.”

“We’ll see.”

Walt in her man’s work clothes, shirt and tool belt walked Vonnie to the door. “So that’s your brother. He’s nice.”

“Don’t go getting a crush on him,“ Vonnie teased. “He’s not your type.”

When they got outside the house, Vonnie asked, “Who are these mysterious owners?”

“I don’t know. I get my checks every week, and that’s all I care about.”

“We don’t get to know who we’re working for? That’s kind of spooky isn’t it?”

“What are they offering you?”

She handed Walt the envelope with her salary written down.

Walt whistled. “Several times what I make,” Walt said.

“There’s a whole bunch of perks. I don’t think I can refuse.”

“I’ve already got orders to fix up any set of rooms you want, and do it to your specifications.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Walt didn’t answer.

“We’ve been so good for each other out at the farm,” Vonnie said.

“Does that mean we can’t live together anymore?”

Vonnie laughed. “Giving you up would be the deal breaker. You’re staying with me.”

“Then you aren’t taking the job?”

“It says here that I make all hiring and firing decisions. I’ll need a handyman. In this case a handy woman. I hope you want the job.”

Walt grinned. She liked the idea of staying at Almasy House with the new manager.

They heard hammers and the shuffling of workmen. They looked back at the brighter colors, and imagined the house full of new furniture. They could see inside some of the first floor rooms because the windows were bigger than they had been. It sure didn’t look as dark and forbidding as Vonnie remembered it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

That night Lisa went to bed thinking about all the rooms in the Rinaldi home. Lucinda had given her a schedule of when different rooms needed to be cleaned. Mostly the guest rooms were cleaned once a year and again when the Rinaldis expected guests. The kitchen had to be cleaned everyday and scoured once a month. Closets were deep cleaned once a year, but they might need reorganization more often. The main rooms downstairs needed to be dusted and swept daily.

It’s so much work, but Lisa wanted to do it. She reviewed in her mind where all the cleaning supplies were kept. Then she fell asleep. There were no nightmares. She felt safe and woke up smiling.

“You have a visitor,“ said the jailer.

“I don’t want to see anyone,” answered Jack. If the orphanage was bad, the Mountain Ridge jail was worse. While he had a cell to himself, it had not been cleaned. He smelled the waste products of the prisoners who had been here before him. Fresh air didn’t find its way inside.

In the picture shows, jail houses had barred windows, but he didn’t have a window. Instead he just had cement walls.

A shadow fell between the bars. He thought his visitor might be his sister, Yvonne who he had asked the jailers to keep out. Instead it was his former employer, Enrico Rinaldi. Jack jumped off the cot and to his feet. “Sir,” he said. “I didn’t do it.”

“I know you didn’t, Jack.”

“Is Yvonne okay?”

Rinaldi nodded. “Your sisters are both okay. They’re staying at my house and working.”

“Lisa? Why isn’t she at the orphanage?”

“It seems Hollander kicked her out.”

“The bastard. She needs someone to look after her.”

“Vonnie assures me Lisa can do the work.”

“Lisa,” Jack paused. He didn’t know how to tell his employer or rather former employer about his sister’s spells.

Rinaldi guessed Jack’s concern. “She’ll be fine; you’re the one in trouble.”

“I was set up. I think you know that.”

“You think the sheriff set you up?”

“The sheriff’s son. Miles Olson thinks I’m trash. Maybe he’s right.”

“Olson isn’t my concern. I know he railroaded you, and I talked to the judge. There’s no real evidence of armed robbery or even of breaking and entering.”

“I wasn’t carrying a gun. I don’t even own one.”

“But you had a pocket knife.”

“I’m your gardener. I use the knife doing chores and most men in this town carry knives.”

“I know. Look I’m getting you a year in prison.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jack almost shouted.

“You courted my daughter.’ Rinaldi lowered his voice and spoke through clenched teeth.

The accusation surprised Jack. He and Lucinda had been discreet. How could anyone have found out?

“Sir, we were just friends, and I was leaving town. I swear. I was going to leave. I just had to figure out what to do with my sisters. I was afraid to leave them.”

“Here’s a the deal. The judge is a friend of mine, and he could give you 20 years. I already talked to him about making it one year, and then you leave the area. You never come back.”

“I have two sisters here.”

“They have guaranteed jobs with me as long as they want, and as long as you stay away from Lucinda. You do a year and when you come out, there’s a hundred thousand dollars waiting for you. The condition is that you never step foot in the Upper Peninsula again or live in any town where Lucinda lives.”

“I don’t want your hundred thousand dollars.”

“Son, you’ll be an ex con. Unemployable, and there are thousands of others looking for jobs.”

Jack didn’t answer.
 “I’ll do what I have to do to keep you away from Lucinda. Take the money, son.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave the U.P. when I’m released. I know I can’t have Lucinda.”

The men each knew they had an agreement.

Leo Olson called in Miles, “There’s more talk than ever about a treasure.”

“What? In old Rose’s tunnels? Pa, I don’t think one exists.” He poured himself a cup of black coffee as he talked to his dad. “Those tunnels were used for transferring liquor not for hiding treasure.”

“Tell that to the damn fools who we’re going to have to rescue. It’s only a matter of time before someone gets killed or goes missing for good.”

Miles had his own reasons for being interested in the tunnels; he had explored more of them than he wanted to admit to his dad. He didn’t like the treasure hunters that got in his way. He also didn’t like having Emil Mynter, the mining engineer, in the tunnels. And that stupid priest was probably going down in the tunnels.

Last month Mynter had rescued two brothers who had gone into the tunnels and gotten lost. They had come out with wild tales of ghosts and a secret burial ground.

“We blocked off the entrance of the tunnel that starts near highway US-2,” Miles said. Of course, his dad already knew that.

“There’re other openings. Talk to Mynter. See if you can find out exactly where they are. He’ll know where they are if anyone does.” The sheriff paused. “And find a way to permanently seal the one near US-2. Anyone with half a brain can figure out how to get around your signs and boulders.”

“Dad, we may need that tunnel available the next tine we need to get someone out.”

“I’ll talk to the priest. Now that he owns Almasy House, maybe he’ll let us go through the door in the basement that leads into the tunnels.”

“Yeah” Miles grinned. “That ole boy priest should be very cooperative.”

His dad looked up and shook his head. Both men were thinking the same thing. If there was a treasure, it would be close to the house and Hollander would want all of that for himself.

The Olsons distrusted Hollander as did many of the townspeople. Rose had always wanted to leave her money to the church. Then that priest got friendlier and friendlier, and she ended up leaving her money to him. Most people wondered if he would stay in the priesthood or marry that pretty little Elaine Dabb. She hung around him enough.

Anyway Hollander was now a very rich man and determined to get every cent he could out of Almasy House.

Penny 1970

If you ever want to perk up some kid’s interest in local history, just mention hidden treasure. Their eyes light up; they’re ready to grab shovels and start digging. Chances of finding buried treasure are about zero. It would take more gold than Fort Knox ever held to get me into any of those tunnels that snake beneath Mountain Ridge. I could never understand miners who went into the earth every day. Neither did I understand the rum runners who reportedly ran the booze through Rose’s tunnels. I’m far from brave enough to ever become a treasure hunter.

My idea of treasure is a tidbit of forbidden information included in a letter or legal document like a birth or marriage certificate.

Note to reader: Emil Mynter’s daughter, Mary Mynter Smith is now the head of the historical society where I volunteer. I have seen Emil’s maps, but they are not at the museum. Mrs. Smith keeps them locked up in her home. They are hers, not the museum’s. After all they belonged to her dad. I doubt she will ever give them up.)

1935

Emil Mynter knew the mine tunnels like he knew the rooms in his own home. He had mapped out most of the routes and kept the maps in a safe in his home. Other maps existed; the country kept records of the tunnels; the county records also detailed who owned them and where they went. These were mostly accurate as far as the mining tunnels were concerned. Enrico Rinaldi, Emil’s employer, and the other mine owners were especially good at providing detailed information on their activities.

But Rose’s tunnels were different. She had been secretive. Many believed she kept maps. Maybe she kept them in her head. County executives in Rose’s time were more interested in her booze than in her tunnels.

Emil considered asking Jeff Hollander for permission to exam any maps Rose may have left behind. But Hollander would refuse. He would look for the treasure himself if indeed there was a treasure to find. Hollander would be suspicious of anyone else interested in those tunnels.

Emil himself had attempted over the years to map Rose’s tunnels. He did it on his own time, knowing he was sometimes trespassing. But most of the tunnels wound through state, county or mining property. Rose owned only a few acres that surrounded her home. She and her crews had themselves been trespassing.

Emil could find his way in and out of the tunnels without too much trouble. He looked at the maps he had drawn over the years. He had a system of always turning right or always turning left. Sometimes he left subtle clues in the sand or dirt. He might pile rocks a certain way or use a stick to point in the direction he took. He didn’t want anyone to know when he was in the tunnels or where he went. Not that anyone else should be inside these tunnels. But he had to be careful.

Rose Almasy, that crazy old lady, had tunnels that were elaborate mazes. Her tunnels had a purpose - transporting and hiding illegal liquor during Prohibition. One tunnel started near the old Quincy mine and dead ended. Others intersected with the mine tunnels in places that had not been mined in years. Rose used some mine tunnels that were no longer used by the mines. Talk about trespassing. Emil was sure the owners of the Quincy mine had no idea their abandoned tunnels had been hijacked.

Some tunnels purposely led nowhere.

Were the maps only in Rose’s mind? Did she share any written maps with Hollander? The priest had been crawling around her like a pet snake. If anyone could have gotten information from Rose, it would have been Hollander.

But Rose would not give up her secrets easily.

If the maps were kept only in her mind, then there was no reason for Mynter to contact the priest. If she explained her routes to him, most likely, Hollander would not understand. But Emil would. He could help the priest if there was anything buried in there. If Hollander had drawn maps based on Rose’s recollections, they might be dangerously incomplete. If Hollander was smart, he would ask a mining engineer like Emil to accompany him inside the maze.

Emil respected Rose’s property, but the tunnels were a safety hazard. A child or hiker or more likely a fortune hunter would wander into them and never find his way out. What if a mine employee took a wrong turn into one of those tunnels?

The sheriff and his deputies would be little help. Those treasure hunters who had been rescued had all needed Emil’s help. Sometimes Emil thought Miles Olson and that state trooper friend of his, Sonny Cain, knew more about the mines than they let on. But he would not have trusted either one to lead him out blindfolded.

Emil shrugged. He really did not believe the tales about hidden treasure. If anything had ever been hidden in the tunnels, he was sure Rose had removed it years before. There was a possibility of a still being down there. There could also have been hidden bottles of smuggled booze.

Emil strongly suspected that the priest had been taking advantage of Rose in getting her to leave her fortune to him instead of to the church. Emil didn’t care about the rumors about the the priest and that little Elaine, the pretty girl who had grown up on the same street where he had raised his own children. He knew Elaine’s parents. He knew how concerned they were about Elaine. He had three daughters of his own.

Emil turned a corner; the light from his helmet illuminated the dark cave walls inside the tunnels.

Emil wasn’t doing any harm in Rose’s tunnels. He was just looking. Hollander should be happy a qualified engineer was looking into those tunnels. The county should hire Emil to explore them. That would be much smarter than sending in that dumb deputy, the sheriff’s son. Emil usually managed to avoid Miles in the tunnels.

Rinaldi and the other mine owners had warned Miles to stay out of their tunnels. But Miles had still turned up once or twice claiming that he was lost or looking for someone who was lost. Emil wondered why Miles went into Rose’s tunnels so often. There weren’t that many lost souls to rescue.

Emil also knew about the North entrance. He didn’t think anyone else knew.

He remembered when he discovered this entrance. He had found this tunnel entrance one time when he was looking over one of Rinaldi’s abandoned tunnels.

When he walked inside, he discovered that this section had spokes. It was shaped like a wheel. Spokes led to other tunnels and to dead ends. One spoke led to the basement at Almasy House where Emil had found the cellar cellar door unlocked; he had actually stood there in the basement of Almasy House. He had quickly exited. He had not intended to trespass in someone’s home.

He thought he knew all the tunnels now, but in Rose’s tunnels, there could always be surprises.

Father Jeffrey Hollander had not been inside the tunnels yet. He had emptied Rose’s bank account, and he had searched the house, but found little of value. The bank accounts themselves held much less than he had expected.

Was anything in the tunnels? Rose had often changed the subject whenever he asked her about them. Sometimes she hinted about something in the tunnels, but she was never specific.

She would sigh. “I brought some things down there. Never trusted banks.”

“What did you bring down there, Rose? Is it still there?”

She would smile and shake her head. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Was she just trying to hold his interest? Had any treasure been removed years ago? Did a treasure ever exist?

He had no idea how to explore a tunnel or how extensive her tunnels were, but he had a plan. He purchased candles, a notebook, a pick, shovel, and a miners cap, so he would be able to see inside the tunnels; he bought red paint, so he could mark his way. The paint was the same kind that loggers used to mark trees.

Carefully he opened the cellar door. He walked into the dark tunnel and lit a half dozen candles. Rose had electricity in the cellar, but the tunnels had never been wired. He carried more candles and lots of matches with him. These were for emergencies.

He put on his miner’s light. He started his journey at almost the precise moment that Emil Mynter entered the tunnels from another place. Neither man knew the other was inside the tunnels. Nor did they know that a third man was in the tunnels. That third man would kill to keep his secrets.

Jeff Hollander wished there was someone else he cold trust. But a hired explorer might steal any treasure he found. Emil Mynter seemed like an honest sort, but Emil was a friend of Elaine’s parents, and he didn’t like Jeff Hollander. The priest decided he couldn’t trust anyone.

On his first exploration, he went east for about a mile. He noticed where the tunnel intersected with a mining tunnel. Where did this tunnel exit? Was the tunnel still used by the mines?

Rose would not have ventured this far from the house. Would she?

The next day Hollander went west. He exited this tunnel in a wooded area. He saw forest paths and heard the swish of cars on a near-by highway, but decided to go back inside the earth. Upper Peninsula forests could be as easy to get lost in as an underground tunnel. At least his tunnel was marked. The mouth of this tunnel looked like a natural cave. He didn’t know who owned this property, so he could not put up a “no trespassing" sign.

He could get the sheriff to block the entry. But then that deputy would want to explore.

He had inherited no more than a half dozen acres from Rose. Her tunnels crisscrossed private and state property. Any treasure found down here would have to remain a secret. If he did discover a treasure and if anyone found out, he would have to say he found it inside the house or on the grounds. Otherwise ownership could be contested. Best to keep any finds a secret, he decided.

He followed the tunnel back. This tunnel did not seem to intersect with the mines. But it did branch off. This was Rose’s maze, and he knew he had to be careful. There were dozens of places where the tunnel branched off. Where did these branches go? Should he explore them now or wait?

Then he saw the footprint in the soft earth. Someone else had been in this tunnel recently. Who? The footprint went left. Did he dare follow it? Instead of using his red paint he took out his picket knife and put a small notch in the wood to the side. Then he followed the footprints, taking care to step carefully in each one, so he himself was not leaving a trail.

He didn’t know why, but he sensed it was important that no one knew he had entered here. This tunnel was dark even with his miner’s light. He took out a candle and lit it. The light from his miners cap danced on the walls. The tunnel curved. He found himself saying a silent prayer for his own safety. Jeff Hollander was not a man who spooked easily, yet he had to admit he was scared.

Of What? What could possibly harm him down here? There might be bats or a rattlesnake. Neither of these things scared him. He had a club and he had a pistol. He wasn’t sure if he would dare use the pistol, but the club would discourage most creatures.

He smelled something, rotten decaying. It made him want to vomit. He swallowed hard to keep his breakfast from coming up and betraying his presence to whomever or whatever might be using this tunnel.

He turned the corner and screamed.

He had never screamed before, at least not that he remembered. But then he had never seen hell before. He backed away.

Elaine had cleaned Rose’s apartment many times. Still she could not get the old lady smell from the rooms.

Soon Elaine would have a maid cleaning for her in a fancy new home. Surely Jeff didn’t expect them to keep living here.

She hated this old boarding house with its musty smell, ancient furniture and silent rooms. She knew the house had once been fashionable, but after Rose’s husband killed himself, the old lady had slowly shut down everything until she lived like a recluse here. It didn’t matter how often Elaine cleaned. The house still smelled like mice droppings and rotten cheese.

The furniture looked like junk yard rejects.

It had taken too long for the old lady to die, but now she was gone, and the house was hers - well it was Jeff’s, but she and Jeff would soon be married. They just had to get out of here soon.

Jeff had searched the house and he had not found anything of value. When Rose seemed less lucid in the last years of her life, she said she had hidden something in the tunnels, but Jeff had not gotten her to be more specific.

When had Rose hidden it? Was Rose wealthy in her younger days? It didn’t make sense that a frail older woman would go down there by herself carting a fortune in gold, and jewels. Maybe it was her husband who hid the fortune, and Rose herself did not know where it was. Perhaps the fortune did not exit. There was always that possibility, but Jeff had to be sure. She understood that.

In her dreams Elaine imagined a life of fur coats, diamond bracelets and trips across the Atlantic. They would meet kings, queens and presidents. President and Mrs. Roosevelt would invite them to dine at the White House. She would be richer than the Lucinda Rinaldi.

She and Jeff could buy a house in one of the fancy districts of Detroit or Lansing. They could travel first class around the world and meet Hollywood stars. She would flirt with Clark Gable and Rudy Vallee.

Elaine wanted to dance around the room when she thought of what was possible with enough money and with Jeff.

They would, of course, have to leave town. There was too much prejudice here. People believed that Jeff had taken unfair advantage of Rose, and that all these years as he looked after her and her estate, he was just after her money. They talked about Elaine and Jeff too.

Was it anyone’s business if she were dating a priest? There were too many gossips in this town; she hated Mountain Ridge.

Elaine was tired of being an old lady’s maid. Even with Rose dead, she was still cleaning Rose’s house. Why was she doing that?

Elaine knew the tunnels could be dangerous, but she trusted Jeff. He was smart, and he would be careful. She was not worried about him. Well, maybe a little worried. If he failed to come out of the tunnels, she would be alone and penniless and forced to remain in Mountain Ridge. She’d have to live with her parents again.

When she heard noises in the cellar, she hurried to a mirror to make sure her hair was perfect. Her new lipstick was reportedly the same shade Jean Harlow wore. That’s what the ladies’ magazines claimed anyway. Elaine had bought it at the drug store down the street where she bought all her movie magazines.

She waited for the cellar door to open.

Jeff didn’t walk from the tunnel. He stumbled. His gear fell in a puddle around him. He stumbled up the stairs to where Elaine waited, fell into a chair and sat staring at the wall like he could see the devil himself sitting there.

“Jeff, what’s wrong?” Elaine ran to him.

“Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Are you sick?”

“Worse,” he replied. He would tell her no more.

Miles was unprepared for Father Hollander’s visit. “No way,” he said. “I’ll believe there’s a treasure located in those tunnels, unlikely as that might seem, but dead bodies? No way.”

“It’s got to be checked out.” His dad told him.

The two lawmen looked at Jeff Hollander who was clearly shaken. The priest’s face was chalky. His hands trembled. He had bumped into a chair when he staggered into the jailhouse.

“Ready to show me where these bodies are?” Miles asked.

The priest nodded and moved toward the door like a sick man.

Miles followed. His gun was loaded. He would try to confuse the priest once they got into the tunnels. What if he couldn’t? Hollander had become a problem. One that could not be easily dispatched. He was sure of that. Some poor women could disappear, but not a priest.

Miles got in his car and drove the priest back to Almasy House. Hollander was too shaken to drive back himself. He was so nervous, it would be easy for him to have an accident. Save that for when they were alone in the tunnels.

CHAPTER FOUR, "BROKEN HOMES UNKEPT GARDENS"

Rose paced the foyer at Almasy House. Martha had been her maid. She and the children could stay here; eventually they would understand that it was best that John was gone. He would be tarred and feathered and taken out of town. Perhaps they would not even use the tar or feathers. He would be warned not to come back. Martha would mourn for awhile, but she would get over it. Martha had been such a good Catholic girl.

The sheriff entered carrying a small bundle wrapped in what Rose recognized as one of Martha’s ragged blankets, a cast off from the boarding house.

“Quickly,” he shouted, nodding toward the the fireplace. “Get a fire going. I need more blankets now.” Some of the lady prostitutes had been sitting around resting, reading or waiting for customers. They hurried to do the sheriff’s bidding. “Quickly,” he repeated.

He laid the bundle on the couch. Rose recognized the child. It was Lisa, Martha’s youngest. “She’s a baby,” one of the prostitute ladies said.

“The doctor’s on his way,” Leo pulled his badge from his pocket and placed it back on his chest.

“Where’s her mother? Why didn’t you leave her with her mother?” Rose sat across from the child while the sheriff rubbed the child’s cold hands and tried to bring some warmth into them. Soon the doctor rushed into the room.

Rose pulled the sheriff away from the others. “What went wrong?” she asked.

1970 Miles

When Miles arrived back in town, a deputy drove him to the courthouse. “How’s the prisoner?” Miles asked.

“Got her in isolation. She don’t say nothing. Don’t eat.”

“I’ll talk to doc about force feeding.”

“You sure we should be holdin’ her. She should be in a hospital.”

“Shut up and watch the road,” Miles snapped. “I ain’t letting this prisoner go.”

1925

Rose assured her husband Louis that things would be taken care of. “What do you mean by things?” Louis asked. “Martha’s funeral will be here. Father Hollander has agreed to officiate even though she certainly wasn’t a Catholic in the last years of her life. He will also petition Rome to allow her soul back into the Church. Our lord is good and will forgive her for her sins.”

“Will He forgive us?” Louis asked.

“We have done nothing wrong,” Rose insisted.

“What happened to John? Where is he?”

“He left town.” It was a lie that she was not yet ready to give up. She never would. She certainly wouldn’t tell her husband the truth. It was bad enough he knew Martha was dead.

“John didn’t stay for his wife’s funeral?” Louis knew his wife was keeping a lot of the story to herself.

“She wasn’t his wife. Not in the eyes of the Church.”

“I don’t give a damn for the eyes of the church. What happened to John?”

“I told you.”

“He wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t leave his children.”

“He was persuaded.”

“Rose, the little girl was almost killed. How did that happen?”

She didn’t answer. But when she turned to face him, she saw that he was cleaning his gun. She hadn’t seen that gun in years. What had made him bring it out? For the first time, she was afraid of what her husband might know and of what he might do.

He placed the gun on the table beside him. “What happens to Martha’s children?” he asked.

“Father Hollander will take them to the orphanage. They’ll get a good Christian upbringing. I made a large donation.” She hurried from the room, afraid he would use that gun on her.

There was one more thing she needed to arrange. Rose had to make sure the children never talked. She was sure the two older ones knew nothing. From reports they had been hiding in the cellar when their mother’s body was found. Most likely they had not seen what happened to their father.

John’s body had been moved and hidden before the children were taken from the house. At least that stupid sheriff had gotten that part right.

But what about the child called Lisa? What had she seen? What did she know?

Louis had always considered himself a good man. He loved his wife and he had sometimes even been proud of her as she ran the boarding house and made it much more profitable than he would have done on his own. He didn’t like that she allowed ladies of the evening to stay on the top floor and to use the house to entertain their customers. He didn’t like the illegal booze that Rose ran even though the profits were more than he ever imagined.

Her vast illegal enterprises scared him as did the men who came from Detroit and Chicago. He knew they were gangsters.

But now he thought about Martha’s death. He thought about the Klan whom he disliked even though he knew they met in the house every Thursday and sometimes maybe even more often. He thought about John’ Brianka’s disappearance. He should have stopped his wife before he let it all end like this. His Smith and Wesson was cleaned and fully loaded.

His confession had been written and mailed to Father Hollander along with instructions to bring in the authorities for a full investigation of John’s so-called disappearance. Had he left his last letter at the house, Rose would have found it and destroyed it. Louis trusted the new priest, Father Hollander. So he had gotten the letter out of the house and into a mail box.

He returned to his room.

Across the hall, a music box played. He didn’t recognize the tune, but it tickled the air like cowbells. He took a deep breath, placed the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Penny 1970

The room where Louis Almasy committed suicide is now the maid’s break room. Dark brown smudges mark the walls. Some people say it’s his blood, but the room has been painted, wall papered, stripped and painted again since that time. The floor is varnished every year. No trace of Louis Almasy remains or if it does, it’s covered by layers of paint and whitewash.

The old timer I had just interviewed for an oral history had not mentioned what happened here in this town so long ago. No one now admits to having belonged to the Klan. No one admits riding with them that night.

There’s a gorgeous portrait of Rose Almasy in the foyer. Some people say she came from a rich European family; some say she was royalty. Some say she was a gypsy fortune teller when she met Louis Almasy. He bought the house for her to run as a boarding house. It kept getting bigger and bigger as she added rooms. She had grown up near a large castle. She wanted the house to look like a castle. It resembles instead a poorly constructed old house. Its unusualness makes it a tourist attraction.

Rose added a restaurant. Miners had to eat and Rose managed to serve them breakfast, lunch and supper at reasonable prices. The kitchen she added to the house is still there, but today all the appliances are state of the art. We even have a chef.

Rose opened a tavern and kept it running even during Prohibition. She had tunnels built all around the house and some connected to the iron mines. She ran booze in and out of the house through those tunnels and associated with known gangsters from Detroit, Chicago and New York.

The town loves her now that she’s been dead for over thirty years.

Prohibition ended when Franklin Roosevelt became president. The mines that once supported this town are all closed now.

All of this has little or nothing to do with Lisa Mentor or her arrest.

Okay, it has a lot to do with Lisa’s arrest. I am just trying to figure out how to connect some of the dots.

When I went to pour myself a cup of coffee, Jack Brianka came in and sat at the break table.

“Lisa is asking for you,” he told me.

“Are they allowing her visitors?”

“Family. Vonnie and I got in. Danni got in, she helped Dr. Tracie do the medical evaluation.”

“Is that necessary? Everyone in town knows she’s crazy.”

“What do you think?” Jack asked me.

I didn’t answer. I really didn’t know what I think.

Almasy House 1925

Lisa was a strange child. That first night that her mother’s body lay in the parlor for view, she had crawled in the casket with her dead mother. The ladies who used the parlor to entertain gentlemen even when there was a funeral had pulled the child out of the casket and had sat with her until Rose came to take the child upstairs.

After that, Rose locked the three children in a room. She brought them their meals, took them down to see their mother’s body and gave them bathroom breaks.

One night Rose had the two older children taken downstairs to dinner. She sat down beside the small child. Lisa at first tried to pull away. She would not look at the fancy lady. “I want my daddy,” she said.

Rose sighed. Perhaps the child did not remember or perhaps she had not even seen what happened.

“You know your daddy went away,”

No answer. Lisa stared at the floor.

“Your daddy got on a train and he went away. He went to San Francisco and when he gets to San Francisco, he will get on a big boat and go all the way to China. He wasn’t a good daddy.”

Lisa continued to stare at the floor.

“Lisa, if you think you saw anything else happen to your daddy, you are wrong. Do you understand?”

The child made no answer. Instead she jumped off the sofa and tried to flee. But Rose caught her and pulled her back. Lisa could offer little more resistance than a kitten.

“You don’t want people to think you’re a liar, now do you?” Rose wasn’t even sure that the child heard her. She would get Father Hollander and the nuns at the orphanage to work with Lisa. “I think you had a very bad dream the night your mother died. But remember what really happened. Your mother went to heaven and your daddy went to China.”

She repeated it. “Your mother went to heaven, and your daddy went to China.”

Rose felt she should hug the child. But she couldn’t bring herself to get that close to a dirty little Jew. It was enough that she had to clutch the child to keep her from running away.

The little girl’s brown eyes held some emotion. Fear? Anger? Hatred? Sorrow? Rose thought she saw all that in this little one. She had done her Christian duty. Martha’s bastards would go the orphanage and be raised as good Catholics. Jesus would be proud of her charity.

She had just finished explaining things to the child when she heard the gunshot that killed her husband.

Penny 1970

The tunnels under Almasy House wound this way and that and back again. They had been built back when Rose Almasy and her husband owned the house. Rose hired foreign laborers to build the tunnels. When they were finished those laborers were transported back to their native land.

One rumor said she murdered them and their bodies are still there in one of the tunnels.

Another rumor says she has a fortune in gold and jewels buried some place in one of the tunnels. Those tunnels are barricaded off now. They are too dangerous for recreational fortune hunters.

Emil Mynter a mining engineer, explored some and maybe all of the tunnels. There were probably a few others who know their way around down there.

The sheriff, Miles Olson has gone into the tunnels to rescue people who got lost. He found some of them usually with help from Emil Mynter. I wondered how Miles found his way around down there. He was never a miner or a mining engineer like Mynter. But then I ask too many questions.

Thinking of the sheriff brought me back to the present and Lisa’s problems. After I left Vonnie’s office where Jack, Vonnie and I discussed Lisa’s case, I tried to avoid talking to anyone. Reporters knew I spent time with Vonnie and Jack. They must be wondering about my connection to the case. I hurried through the atrium.

I wasn’t fast enough. “Excuse me,” one of the reporters called. “I understand you’re an amateur historian here.”

“Not really.” Usually my title is called local snoop.

“I was wondering about Jeff Hollander.”

“What about him?” I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Not much about him here at Almasy house or at the museum.”

“Why should there be?” It was my turn to ask a question.

“Just wondering.”

“Mrs. Smith can help you find some articles in the old newspapers. We have microfilm readers.” Mary Mynter Smith, daughter of the old mining engineer, was the president of the historical society and my boss.

The reporter grinned, “Like I said, I was just asking.”

As he walked away I thought, you’ll never know the truth. It’s too well hidden.

1925

The town was not quite sure what to make of Father Thomas Hollander. He was as young as the century, just 25 years old. He was movie star handsome, and according to some of the young women in town who were infatuated by his blue eyes and blond hair, he was even handsomer than Francis X. Bushman whom he somewhat resembled. Church attendance was up among the young girls in town and also among their mothers.

There had been a rush on confessions among the men lately. A miner had been lynched. The men in confession spoke of watching, horrified. None confessed to the actual crime. Who had put the rope around the miner’s neck? Who forced him up the ladder? Who kicked the ladder away? If Hollander was shocked, he did not show it.

He had been too young to serve in the Great War, but an older brother had served and suffered a kind of exhaustion. He knew his brother had seen death, and had even participated in the battles. Things like that broke some men. These miners seemed remorseful, but not broken.

For his part, Hollander did not know what to make of Mountain Ridge, a town unlike any other town he had ever lived in. It consisted of the very wealthy like the summer vacationers who came north to enjoy the lakes and trees. Usually they had cottages outside of town. Some wealthy mine owners had houses within the town. Enrico Rinaldi was building a new home. If only he were Catholic. Not that Rinaldi wasn’t generous. He had donated a thousand dollars to the church charity fund.

Rose Almasy ran a very successful boarding house and restaurant. She also ran booze. Everyone in town knew where they could get a drink.

Rose was a good Catholic who attended mass every morning.

Hollander often took his meals at Almasy House, but didn’t know if he had ever met Rose’s husband, who always stayed in the background like a potted plant. The Almasys made monthly and yearly donations to the church that were very generous.

A few parishioners had speculated that Rose and her husband would leave all their possessions to the church when they died. As far as Jeff Hollander knew, they had no one else to leave their possessions to. He had heard gossip about a daughter, but he could gather few details. He knew her first name, and year of christening, but beyond that the girl was a mystery. Was she still living? Where? Had she ever married? Would she visit Mountain Ridge some day? Hollander tried to get information on this daughter, but had been unsuccessful. Some people said they didn’t know; a few shook their heads and said it was a sad thing. When he pressed for details, all anyone told him was that the girl was gone.

Hollander was unprepared for the events of January 1925.

First there was that young wife, Martha who had died of a heart attack. She had left the Catholic faith and married a Jewish man. Hollander explained that a Christian burial was out of the question, but after Rose Almasy pushed an envelope stuffed with money into his hands, he agreed to conduct a funeral ceremony at Almasy House where the body lay in state. Burial was possible, he decided accepting a second envelop of money. The body could be entered near the edge of the churchyard. Surprisingly none of the towns people objected to this unchristian woman lying among them.

On the contrary, many women had thanked him, saying Martha was a good Christian woman who had been led astray by the Jew. Look how quickly he had left town and abandoned those children. Shameful.

Of course, Hollander knew the truth from the confessions he heard. Martha’s husband had been lynched.

Rose made another large donation and he agreed to take the children to the Catholic orphanage.

Martha had not been such a pretty woman. He had seen pictures of her. He had looked upon her body lying in the casket. The townspeople loved her and hated the man she chose over them and over the true religion. Was it more than John’s religion that damned him in the eye of this pious town? He was a foreigner. Some people hated foreigners. John Brianka had had been lynched. There was no doubt in his mind that each man present at the killing was guilty of the murder.

Hollander had given those men who came to him absolution. He would have done the same for Rose, had she asked for it. She seldom came to confession. But she must have known what happened that night.

No one seemed to know what had happened to the body of John Brianka. One of the men said he thought one of Rose’s henchmen “took care of it.” She had connections with gangsters; at least that is what some people said. Another penitent said the sheriff had removed the body.

Then Louis, Rose’s husband, committed suicide. Rose wanted him buried in the churchyard, and she wanted a church funeral. Hollander explained that suicides like non believers should not be buried in consecrated ground, but Rose had shoved yet another envelope of money at him. Another funeral was held at Almasy House and then Louis went in the ground beside Martha at the edge of the churchyard.

Again no one complained.

Then came the letter. It was Louis’ suicide note sent through the mail just before he shot himself.

It told of how Rose had loved Martha. How upset she had been when Martha had married. It told why Rose carried a vendetta against John, and what she had gained or rather lost by causing John’s death.

Rose hadn’t meant for John to die. She just wanted him ridden out of town. Rose had indirectly caused Martha’s death too.

If the letter were sent to the authorities, Rose might even go to prison. Indeed Louis expected the priest to contact the authorities, and present evidence.

But, Hollander decided it was a confession and confidential. He would keep Rose’s secrets. He would keep the town’s secrets.

Father Jeffrey Hollander began taking all of his meals at Almasy House. He proved a fascinating conversationalist. Soon he was invited upstairs where he ate in Rose’s private quarters. She was 57 and he was in his mid to late 20’s. But he hungered for her money and decided he would do whatever was necessary to help the poor widow who was now alone.

His charm would do more than help the church. It would also make him a rich man.

TO BE CONTINUED…