Chapter Ten

Lucinda’s wedding ended.

The church had been packed mostly with Brad’s friends and relatives. The bride’s gown had been made especially for her in Paris and hurried to Lansing on the fastest ships and cars.

The guest list included a who’s who in American politics, academia and film. They had all flown to Michigan to attend the wedding of a rising star in the Republican Party. Brad would be president someday. Everyone said so. Well-wishes crowded around the couple. Movie stars and congressmen did not interest Lucinda. She found them boring.

These people were too fancy, too smug, too self important.

Somehow she must find a way to sometimes get back to Mountain Ridge and her friends.

She had wanted to invite Yvonne, but Yvonne had a farm to run and she had a baby. How Lucinda wanted to see little Louis.

She knew she had to put Jack behind her. She was a wife now, and though her marriage may have been political to unite her family to Brad’s family’s old world political connections, she still wanted to make a good wife. There are some clubs that even wealth and a seat in congress could not buy a way into. And Brad had been so good about her secret. Not every man would marry a Negro, even one as beautiful and wealthy as Lucinda Rinaldi.

The Davies family name would introduce her and her dad to the society that he dreamed about. She was not interested in the great families of New York, Boston and Washington D.C. Her dad was not that interested either. It was just something he wanted. Being a Negro often made Enrico feel inferior. But he and his daughter would rise to the pinnacles of society. He hoped to see her in the White House as hostess and first lady.

Lucinda’s politics were very different than Brad’s. While she was a New Deal Democrat and she knew her father had voted for Franklin Roosevelt, Brad was a Republican who opposed Roosevelt’s ideas for Social Security, and Works Projects.

Brad planned to oppose Roosevelt in every possible way.

With the wedding over, Lucinda retreated to their hotel room while Brad said good night to political cronies.

She brushed her hair and dabbed Lovely perfume behind her ears. She had read in a ladies’ magazine that the best way to get the full effect of a perfume was to rub on baby oil first. Lucinda did this. Then the perfume. She inhaled the rich aroma and hoped her husband would enjoy it. She wanted to be special for him. Was he not an important man?

She admitted she was a little nervous. This was her wedding night. Then she heard the bedroom door opening. She turned and smiled. “Darling.”

He still wore his tuxedo from the wedding, tie askew, and she suspected he was intoxicated.

“I put some blankets on the couch, Lucinda.”

“What?” she got up; her chartreuse silk nightgown caressing the curves of her young body.

He thought how cat-like she moved, as he reached for a decanter of brandy. “You’ll sleep on the couch. When we get to my house in Lansing, you will have your own bedroom like a maid.”

This was not the way a wedding a night should be. “You don’t want me?”

“Of course, I am tempted. You’re a damn beautiful woman. But you are a Negress. What kind of a white man sleeps with a Negress?”

“You knew I was a Negro when you married me.”

“And unfortunately I need your dad’s money. Now go out on the couch like a good girl.”

“No.” she surprised herself with her sharpness. “Father’s money is paying for this room and it financed your campaign. If anyone will sleep on the couch, it will be you. Better yet go get your own room. If you can afford one.” She sighed and sat back down at her vanity table where her cosmetics and perfumes were arranged around her.

Was there a way to change this? To make him see she was his wife and as good or better than any other wife. Lucinda had the best clothes, the best education and she was the daughter of perhaps the richest man in the state. She would not be treated this way. If he wanted an annulment, she would agree. But he didn’t want that, did he? He wanted her father’s money.

When she looked back at him, his eyes filled with hatred and anger. Suddenly he was striding toward her like a cowboy ready to beat a horse. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her to her feet and then shoved her to the floor. “Get up and walk out that door before I drag you.”

Frightened, she obeyed. She walked into the living room part of their hotel suite, grabbed her purse and ran for the door. But he grabbed her again, this time by the arm. His fingers dug into her flesh and hurt her terribly.

“I knew you’d try to run.”

“I’ll get my own room.”

“Now how will that look on our wedding night?”

“I’m calling my father.”

“Sure, call your father and I’ll call the newspapers. He opened a drawer in one of the desks. It continued her father’s birth certificate. “Race: Negro.” It read. “You think you covered your tracks so well. No one ever bothered to check. But you walk out that door, and I call the newspapers. Neither you nor your precious daddy will be welcome in white society again.”

“I’m your wife.”

“Time enough for an annulment. But we can’t have that now. Can we?”

“What do you want?” She couldn’t believe she was crying now.

“Daddy’s money and for you to know your place. You'll be a hostess and nothing more. You make any trouble for me, and I have your birth certificate too. We don’t want to disappoint Daddy now, do we?”

“If it’s so easy to check my background, it will be easy for others. What are your chances of making it to the White House with a Negro wife?”

“I can make the originals disappear. I may not be as rich as daddy, but I am more powerful. You remember that.”

She slowly walked to the sofa. “Don’t bother me anymore tonight,” she said sitting down.

He stared at her. As soon as he was sleeping, he suspected she would call her father. Maybe Enrico would end the marriage. His new little slave girl needed a lesson in obedience.

When he walked toward her she gave a small yelp. Was he going to hit her?

“Is that anyway to treat your new husband?” he asked. He pulled her to him. For a moment, she thought he would rape her. Instead he yanked her toward the closet and then tossed her in like she was an old overcoat. He locked the door.

She wanted to scream. Instead she sank to the floor and felt his shoes rub against her sides like they were kicking her. She cried until she fell asleep.

Lucinda knew she was trapped. If she told her father, Brad kept her isolated, treated her worse than a maid, Enrico would kill Brad.

A divorce would mean the end of her father’s dream of high Washington and New York society. The truth about her family would come out and make headlines.

She must endure her marriage.

Enrico awakened when he heard a noise. Someone was walking outside his bedroom door. He thought it must be an intruder and reached for the the gun he kept at his bedside. The doorknob turned. Click. The door opened. From the light of the full moon outside his bedroom window, he saw a flash of white material and a feminine form outlined in the darkness.

He set the gun down and reached for the lamp switch; the room was filled with light. Lisa Brianka stood in the doorway.

The light hurt Enrico’s eyes, but Lisa Brianka’s eyes were closed. She moved in a circle around the middle of the bedroom floor. Her face upturned toward the ceiling. It was as if she could see something through her closed lids.

For just a moment, he was paralyzed with something close to fear.

“Lisa,” he shouted, hoping to pull her out of her trance.

Her nightgown was diaphanous and he worried about the indecency of having a young woman in night clothes in his bedroom at an ungodly early hour. He shouted her name again.

She did not seem to have heard him.

Eyes closed, she continued to look to the ceiling. “Hanging,” she said softly and then she screamed and fell toward the floor. There she crouched in a sort of sitting position as if she were playing with a cat. “Pa’s hanging there,” she pointed to the ceiling. “Don’t hit me. Don’t kick me.” Her body jerked. She fell sideways like someone had pushed her or kicked her. Then she was still for several minutes.

Should he call the sheriff? That would make gossip and trouble. He didn’t want that for either himself or for the poor girl, who was obviously unhinged. He needed to call her sister, but he feared that if he moved past her; she might awaken or become violent.

He watched her for a moment.

And then very slowly she got up and left.

As soon as she left the room, he got up and locked the door.

He would definitely call her sister. But not tonight. What if Lisa lingered in the hall? It would wait until tomorrow. Perhaps he needed to have a phone put in his bedroom. But it should be okay, if he just kept the door locked.

Lisa got up early to prepare his breakfast. When Mr. Rinaldi tasted the coffee he spit it out. “It tastes awful.”

She tasted the coffee herself; it tasted the same as always. But Mr. Rinaldi had opened the sugar bowl and tasted a little bit of the contents. It was salt.

“I’m so sorry. I must have gotten the containers mixed up.” Both salt and sugar came in huge bags. It was easy to mix them up.

“Just go get the sugar,” he had snapped at her.

She flew to the pantry, opened the sugar bag, but it fell over and sugar spilled all over the floor. She started to sweep it up, then he was beside her. “Never mind that. Get my bacon.”

The bacon burned on the stove. She’d forgotten it. Smoke filled the kitchen.

He stormed out of the house saying he would get breakfast at the cafe.

Lisa easily put out the fire that had consumed the bacon, but she found herself shaking.

Cleaning was no easier. She started in Mr. Rinaldi’s bedroom, but knocked over a vase and it shattered into a million pieces.

If anyone thought mine owners had an easy life, they didn’t know the world of Enrico Rinaldi. His secretary had quit. His midnight foreman had a drinking problem and had to be fired. He asked Emil Mynter to find him another foreman, but in the meantime his other foremen would have to work double shifts. Even if he could find a capable secretary and a new foreman, training them would take time.

There was demand for more ore particularly from England and Germany who Enrico knew were preparing for another fight. He prayed Franklin Roosevelt would have the wisdom to keep America out of a European war. Of course, Roosevelt was running for another term and he could lose in November to Alf Landon. Political analysts thought it would be a close race, but Landon was favored.

Enrico planned to vote for Roosevelt again despite backing his Republican son-in-law. Roosevelt was doing what he could to pull the nation from the grips of Depression. That was more than the Republicans were doing.

There had been a meeting of the mine owners where Enrico had been pressured to cut wages. Other mine owners were not only cutting wages, but laying off workers.

Too tired to argue, Enrico said he would think about it.

When he got home, he met a crying maid. Lisa Brianka, babbled about breaking a vase.

He didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“You just take the money out of my wages.” she had blubbered.

“That won’t be necessary,’ he assured her. He didn’t like the vase anyway. Where had it come from? Had Lucinda bought it as a favor to some poor shopkeeper.

Lisa was still crying when he climbed the stairs. He hated firing people, but he didn’t know how much longer he could endure ruined breakfasts and blubbering. Crying women made him nervous. On top of that he had to keep his bedroom door locked at night because of the ramblings of this strange girl. He would talk to Lucinda. Maybe she could take Lisa to work for her at the Lansing house.

Brad was running for the U.S. senate. Maybe Lisa could help Lucinda when she had to move. But then what would Enrico do for a maid? If only that other one, Vonnie, had been able to stay.

The house was quiet as he shaved and bathed and then crawled into bed. He was exhausted; sleep came quickly.

Then Lisa screamed.

March found Lucinda back in Mountain Ridge. Her husband had flown to Washington on state business. He had agreed to let her visit her family and friends. He knew she wouldn’t tell her father; she would be too ashamed, and she knew Brad would hurt her if she said anything. Lucinda sometimes feared her husband would kill her. He had threatened her. Anyway her father thought he could enter high society. He was planning his own trip to Washington. She couldn’t destroy his dream.

Brad had once asked Lucinda if she knew what an up-pity Nigger was. Sometimes she felt she just couldn’t take the degradation anymore. She functioned as a hostess, and then he dismissed to her room like the lowest maid.

There was, however, someone she could talk to and share her deepest darkest secrets. She sat in Vonnie’s warm kitchen at the Cheney farm house and ate an apple pie smothered in homemade vanilla ice cream.

“You have to leave him,“ Vonnie said.

Lucinda shook her head. “This means too much to my father. Even though people don’t know we’re Negroes, still so many doors are closed to us. We’re newly rich and to the people who matter, we’re no better than shanty Irish or Jews.”

“People who matter? Shanty Irish?” Vonnie almost had to laugh at that, but the phrases made her sad at the same time. “My dad was Jewish. It’s why a lot of people don’t like us.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Lucinda said as she sipped Vonnie’s coffee and knew the contrast between them. Lucinda wore a $300 dress custom made by the best dressmaker in Detroit. Vonnie ’s dress was one she had made for herself.

Lucinda’s hair was professionally styled. Vonnie cut and styled her own hair.

While the kitchen smelled of freshly baked apple pie, cinnamon and coffee, the furnishings were old. It was so different from Lucinda’s world of maids and shiny appliances.

“About Lisa,” Vonnie said.

“I’m so sorry.” Lucinda said. Her dad had mentioned his problems with Lisa.

Vonnie already knew some of it. Lisa had called a few times crying, and Mr. Rinaldi had asked her if she could come back to work. “But she will be staying with us now. I go down and pick her up in the evenings and I drop her off first thing in the morning. I have to be up anyway to help milk the cows.”

“That’s extra work for you.”

“It’s better for Lisa. She’s afraid unless I’m there for her at night. I wish Jack could be here.”

Lucinda took a deep breath. She still thought about Jack often. “Father had nothing to do with what happened to Jack.” she said. “Miles railroaded him and …and…”


 “And what?” Vonnie asked.

“Miles even thought Jack was the killer.”

“Killer?”

“Girls have disappeared and the police found a few bodies. The state police are saying Mountain Ridge is the center of a killer’s activity.”

Vonnie shivered. Both women were silent for a few minutes. They knew the sheriff’s son thought Jack was riff raft.

Miles Olson met with Michigan police Captain Ben Fuller at the Yorkie Cafe in Mountain Ridge. “What’s on your mind?” the state policeman asked.

“You got anymore on the Michigan killer? You know the serial killer.”

“Like what?”

“New victims.”

The two men sipped their coffee in silence for awhile. Finally Fuller spoke. “We haven’t had anything recently. If he’s still out there, he could’ve moved to a new area.” Fuller paused and sipped more of the black coffee. “He could be hiding his victims better. There’s a theory there are more bodies. We’ve got lots of missing women in this state and lots of people saying there’s a copy cat killer or more than one.”

“But nothing’s shown up recently,“ Mills clarified.

“Women are still missing.”

“That happens all over.” Miles said.

“We got twice the national average. That hasn’t changed.”

“Then you think the killer’s still out there.”

“I don’t know what to think, Miles. What do you think?”

“We got a vagrant name of Jack Brianka. I’ve had my eye on his for a long while.”

“And”

“And he tried to rob a gas station last year. I got him sent up to Marquette. He’s doing time there now.”

“How long’s he in for?”

“He should be getting out soon. He got a year and that’s mostly used up.”

“A year? For robbery?”

“He’s got some high level friends. He worked as a gardener for the Rinaldis. Originally they gave him five years, and that wasn’t nearly enough.”

“You think Enrico Rinaldi’s gardener’s our serial killer?”

“Like I said, I’ve had my eye on him. The family’s no good. One of his sisters just had a baby a couple months after getting married to a Civil War veteran no less.”

“A ninety-something year old guy knocked her up?” the police captain almost choked on his coffee. “You’ve got to be making this up.”

“He ain’t the father. You can be sure of that. Who knows who’s the father? For all I know the girl was doing tricks from the Rinaldi mansion.”

“You’ve got some imagination.”

“The other sister is a lulu. Crazy as can be.”

“Is that her name? Lulu?”

“Her name’s Lisa, but she has nightmares, roams around at night in her nightgown, talks about hanged men. The girl is a real basket case. She was out on the lawn at the Rinaldi’s one night. The neighbors called us in.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just sharing some information, cop to cop. The killings have stopped since Jack Brianka went jail.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“I know it. And when Brianka gets out of jail, somebody gotta keep an eye on him.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” said the police captain.

Lisa walked through the woods.

Her red coat purchased from the Sears catalog even had a hood, and it protected her from some of the morning cold.

She knew Almasy house was at the other end and there was even a path. She looked at the old house. She knew she had been here before. She had been taken there the night she lost her parents.

She remembered the thick carpets and the chandelier hanging…swinging. It had frightened her. Why? The house had not seemed safe. She had expected hooded figures to jump out from the shadows. Then her mother was lying in a box. She understood now. Her mother was dead . Lisa knew about coffins now, but she hadn’t then.

She had wanted her mother and had tried to crawl into the coffin. Lisa remembered her mother’s dress was dark and made from a stiff, scratchy material. Her mother had been so still like a doll, and her mother had not tried to hold her. She remembered the strong arms that had pulled her away from her mother’s body. The arms had not been soft and soothing like her mother’s arms used to be.

She had wanted her ma.

She had wanted her pa.

Instead there was that awful old lady telling her that she must never tell anyone what happened. “It was all a nightmare.” the old lady had said. “You imagined it all. No one will believe you.”

What had happened that night? Her mother had died. Her father had disappeared. They told her he left town because he didn’t want to be saddled with the kids.

But she did remember why her pa would never come back for her. How she wished she didn’t remember.

If she closed her eyes, she could see the rope around his neck, his face twisted in pain. She didn’t want to remember him that way. “Pa,” she whispered as if he could hear her and come to her.

That scary old lady knew what really happened that night. Lisa was sure of that. Why had the old lady lied to her?

The killer watched Lisa as she moved down the path. He had watched her before. She would be easy. Too bad he was taking time off. No more killing until Jack Brianka got out of prison. But there had been a few. He couldn’t resist.

Bodies had to be carefully hidden.

The girls who disappeared carefully chosen.

It wouldn’t do to kill Jack’s sister. Not now. Would it? Miles said she couldn’t even disappear. Jack had to look guilty.

Of course, Jack couldn’t come back here; it was a condition of his sentencing.

But how far away would he stay with both of his sisters here?

The killer would have liked to rape Lisa as he and his buddy had once raped Vonnie. He wanted to kill her, and make the body disappear as other bodies had. But if the Rinaldi’s maid went missing, that would cause problems. Some people would know he was still here and that he hadn’t stopped killing. There were other ways of dealing with Lisa Brinaka. It just had to wait until later.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter Nine

Lucinda Rinaldi honored veterans of American wars at her home every Fourth of July. Most of the men who came were veterans of the Great War which the United States had entered in April of 1917 or like her father veterans of the Spanish American War. A few had fought in the Civil War.

She didn’t mind inviting others. Certainly the young women of Mountain Ridge were interested in attracting veterans no matter what their age. And what’s a party without dancing and flirting. There would have to be ladies at the event. Lucinda sent out invitations to any young lady interested in attending.

The town girls valued their invitations. A veteran was marriageable material because he had a pension. With the country deep in a Depression, even Lucinda’s father didn’t know how long it would be before he had to start laying workers off. Those military pensions looked very inviting to young women whose fathers and uncles and the boys they would normally consider marrying were looking for jobs. A pension was a steady income. And widows got pensions too.

Lucinda, Vonnie and Lisa had been busy for days cleaning, buying extra supplies, making salads, puddings and breads. July Fourth at the Rinaldis was to be the biggest celebration of the year in Mountain Ridge.

As the guests arrived, Lucinda and her father greeted them and offered them punch. Music streamed from the new phonograph Enrico had ordered from Detroit. Soon couples were waltzing about. Lisa and Yvonne busied themselves putting cookies out on trays and seeing that everyone had enough to eat and drink.

Ezekial Cheney arrived in his wheel chair. His nephew Dennis pushed him into the room. Ezekial, one of the few Civil War veterans still around, loved to tell tales of meeting at Campus Martius in Detroit with men from all over Michigan. Young George Armstrong Custer had been there wearing a captain’s stripes. Ezekial had served under Custer in the war. He surprised many people by calling the great Custer a coward and a fool. “If I had been with Sitting Bull, I would have shot the idiot myself,” he said.

Ezekial had even seen Abraham Lincoln once when the president visited the soldiers after a battle. Lucinda invited Dennis to help himself to the snack table and Vonnie wheeled Ezekiel over to a table and then brought him date bars, his favorite cookie, and punch.

“How about some of those pretty sugar cookies, over there?” he asked her. Vonnie hurried off to collect a plate of sugar cookies and added some chocolate heart-shaped candies. “Have you tried the ice cream yet?” she asked when she brought him the plate.

“Just a little.”

“Of course.” She quickly served him the ice cream, and as she did, her apron fell slightly away revealing her swollen belly.

“Whose the lucky guy?” he asked.

“Beg your pardon, sir.”

“Old guys like me get to ask impolite questions. Put it down to senility.’ He had noticed and she hoped he was the only one who noticed. If Mr. Rinaldi noticed, she would be fired. She scooped the ice cream on his plate in silence.

“You’re pregnant, ain’t ya?”

“She wanted to run into the kitchen. “Excuse me, sir, I must check the - something’s on the stove.”

“He gently took her arm and held her there beside him “Please stay. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

She nodded and sat beside him, still feeling uneasy.

“You’re one of the Brianka girls?”

She still didn’t answer.

“I met your brother a few times. He came to the house and helped me fix some flooring. I tried to pay him, but he wouldn’t take anything.” Ezekiel waited as if expecting her to say something. “I didn’t believe he tried to rob that gas station. If he did, they wouldn’t have given him such a short sentence.”

“Sir, I really have to go.”

“Okay, but I need someone to push me home after this here wingding is over. My nephew over there deserves a good time without this old man to push around. You come and do this old man a favor.”

“I’ll ask Miss Lucinda.”

“I ain’t trying to get dirty with you. I won’t hurt you. You send that pretty Lucinda over, and I’ll ask her myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Emil had explored and mapped most of the tunnels. He knew Jeff Hollander had claimed to see something terrifying in the tunnels, but that Mills Olson had gone into the tunnels and found nothing in the place where the priest claimed murdered women lay strewn about.

Jeff Hollander was not the type of man to frighten easily, but Emil thought maybe he had instead found a batch of Rose’s old moonshine, and that the old brew perhaps inspired a bad dream. Whatever had spooked Jeff Hollander, had spooked Hollander good.

He put the house up for sale.

Emil made his way from a mine tunnel into Rose’s tunnels and from there right up to the house, but he didn’t want to go into the house. That would be trespassing. Somehow being in Rose’s tunnels did not qualify as trespassing. At least not to Emil’s way of thinking. After all her tunnels connected with some of the mines including the very mine that Emil worked for. Rose had trespassed when she built these tunnels. A part of Emil’s job was to see to mine safety.

He stood at the entrance that if it were not blocked and locked would lead into Rose’s house. If Rose had a fortune here, it was close by. He sensed it. She would want her fortune where she could easily get it. She might have hidden her money inside the house. Unlikely. Hollander would have found it.

Even if he were sloshed on old moonshine, Jeff Hollander would have found any treasure hidden in the house. Down here, Emil was more at home than Hollander ever would be. Emil had explored the tunnels to the right. Now he would go to the left. This led away from the mines. This was where the treasure would be hidden.

Emil noticed a recently blocked passageway. Someone had come down here recently and closed that way off. Why? Was this the section where Jeff Hollander had his nightmare? Emil moved slowly. He noticed footprints on the ground. This is near where Jeff Hollander and Miles Olson had looked for some nightmare killing ground.

He turned away from the blockage, and followed a tunnel deeper into the earth.

He turned toward a small manmade chamber that looked like a natural cave. Something metal glittered in his light. It was a rusted still. Emil backed from that chamber. He moved on.

He found another hollowed chamber. Empty. This part of the tunnel curved and twisted like a snake and lead nowhere. It dead ended.

There had to be more. He went back to the empty chamber. It was perfectly hollowed out with smooth walls. Why had it been created? Something about this one was different than the other dead ends. This was more round and more like a room. It had had a purpose. But what?

Carefully Emil examined the walls and the floor. He noticed a small indentation beneath the cave’s wall and he inserted his fingernails there. There was something hidden here. It was very hard to see in the dim light and in the black on black of shadows. He rubbed the floor, clearing away dirt until he made out a small door.

It was artfully hidden; he slowly opened the door in the cave floor.

Vonnie took Ezikeal home in Lucinda’s Rolls Royce. She hated leaving the cleanup to Lisa and to Lucinda, but Lucinda had insisted. Ezekiel as a Civil War veteran was a Mountain

Ridge treasure, and if he wanted Vonnie to take him home, then Vonnie would take him home. When they got to the farm, the ranch hand helped Ezekiel out of the car, into the wheel chair and then wheeled him up to his front porch. Instead of steps, Emil had a wooden ramp attached to his porch.

Emil pointed to the ramp. “Your brother helped my nephew build that.” Vonnie got a jug of lemonade from a picnic basket in the car and poured him a large glass. He told her where she could find ice cubes in his kitchen. She poured herself some lemonade too.

“I’m ninety-five years old,” he said when she was seated.

“My goodness,” she did some quick arithmetic, “You must have been born in 1840. Who was president then? Do you know?”

He grinned. “Martin Van Buren. That was an election year. William Henry Harrison won, but then he caught a bad cold at his inauguration, and died a month later. I was a year old and had lived under three presidents. You haven’t lived under many more presidents and you’re…”

“Eighteen,” she said. “I’ve lived under five presidents, and Franklin Roosevelt is the best.”

“He is. I liked Abe Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt a lot, but this one we got now is a good man. Did you know he’s in a wheel chair just like me?”

“I didn’t know that,” she admitted.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. Then he asked, “Are you going to marry the boy that got you pregnant?”

She didn’t know what to say. “Please…”

“I ain’t being nosey, and you don’t have to answer, but I’m a lonely old soul out here. I could use someone to clean the house and cook my meals. My nephew does what he can, but he’s got over 400 acres to take care of.”

Vonnie listened to his words and stared out across his yard at stalks of corn blowing gently in the breeze.

“I already deeded most of the farm off to my nephew, but I kept these five acres. I got a pension and if I had a wife, that pension would go to my wife after I die. It ain’t much, but it buys electricity and I don’t need much in store bought food. I ain’t doin’ this very well, but what I’m saying is that you got a home here if you want it.”

Tears stung Vonnie’s eyes. “I couldn’t ask you to…”

“I’m asking you.” He interrupted in a voice louder than he intended. “I’ll give your young ‘un a name and you get my pension for the rest of your life. And you get the five acres after I’m gone.”

“I couldn’t,” she repeated.

“Okay,” he accepted her answer. It had been brash of him to make such a proposal. “You know I would never have touched you.”

“No. No. Mr. Cheney, I am so honored by your offer. I thank you.” Tears streamed down her cheek. She took a handkerchief from her purse.

He let her cry; he didn’t know what else to do or say. Like many men of his generation, the sight of a crying woman was almost painful to him. But he just didn’t know what to say. His proposal had embarrassed him. But he did need someone, and he sensed that she was in trouble.

“I have no place else to go.” she said after a minute.

“He took her hand and squeezed the tiny fist still clutching a handkerchief. “You do now. And I promise you, I won’t bother you none except for some cleaning and maybe help getting around.”

Lisa stood at the edge of the woodland. She always avoided the paths that wound through the trees because the woods scared her. Vonnie said the trees formed a small city park, but Vonnie too avoided this small forest. Walking around the group of trees took Lisa out of her way, but she didn’t mind the walking.

Once she reached the other side of the woods, she stared up at Almasy House. She had been there as a very small child. Her mother’s body had been taken here. This house had something to do with what happened to her pa. Something had happened in this house and after that her parents were gone. She still had Jack and Vonnie, but their old house was gone. It was all because of this house and the scary old lady.

Where had her family lived? In one of the houses at the edge of the tree area. Was their old house still there? Would she recognize it? What did Almasy House have to do with the house where she used to live with her parents, her brother and sister?

Almasy House was empty now.

The old lady who had lived here was dead. Father Hollander who inherited the house had placed it for sale. He said he had seen something awful in the tunnels under the house. Lisa had heard much of the local gossip, and she knew the people who lived here in Mountain Ridge did not like Father Hollander anymore than she did.

Church attendance was down; a new priest from Detroit had taken over. Hollander had beaten her and Jack when they lived in the orphanage. He said it was to get the Jewishness out of her. She hated him, but he wasn’t the only one she hated.

Lisa remembered the old lady. “You must never tell what happened tonight,” the fancy lady had told Lisa all those years ago. “Your daddy left town. He didn’t want to be saddled with little kids. He left. Anything else is a lie. No one will believe you if you say anything else.”

The woman had told her over and over, “You mother went to heaven, and your daddy went to China.”

A sound came from the woods and Lisa turned at the sound. Some small animal darted through the bushes. She saw a tall pine tree. These were called Norway pines. Lisa listened as sounds in the forest receded. She remembered what had happened that night. She remembered what the lady said she must never tell.

Lucinda and Brad had lunch at his hotel. He rattled on and on about the wedding plans. He listed the names of the invited. More important he thought was how much people would donate to his campaign after they met his beautiful wife. Was he trying to impress her by listing the names of wealthy donors?

She knew how important this marriage was to her dad, but she had to tell Brad.

“Brad,” she began. “There’s something you need to know.”

He put his hand on top of hers. “Yes,” he smiled. “Where shall we spend our honeymoon? The Riviera? Paris? Wouldn’t it be great to sail around the world on on one of those big ocean liners? But unfortunately I have legislative duties and a campaign to run. I can’t be away that long. We may have to settle for Mackinaw Island.” He seemed very excited. Why did she suspect it was an act?

“Please,” she begged, “You must listen to me.” Then the words stuck in her throat for awhile. No, she must not be ashamed of who she was. Her family had worked hard to raise themselves out of slavery and poverty. “My grandfather was what they called a Buffalo Soldier. They were Black soldiers who…”

“I know who your grandfather was, Miss Reynolds.” he snapped. “Yes, dear. I know your family’s secret. I know your family’s name before they changed it. We will not speak of it again.”

That surprised her, but pleased her too. She had been honest. Now they could go ahead with the wedding. Her father would be happy. But would she be happy?

Emil’s two oldest daughters, Mary who had just turned 22 and Elsie who was 20, were to wed in September. They planned a double wedding. “Too bad Almasy House is closed. I always wanted to be married there,” Mary said. “It used to be such a great mansion.”

“If we could afford a mansion, why not go to a nice mansion and maybe get married on Mackinac Island.” Elsie said.

“Don’t worry about expense,” Emil told them. He rented the most expensive hall in town and paid for honeymoons in San Francisco for each couple.

“Dad, save your money. We don’t need to go to San Francisco.” Both couples had their own savings, after all.

“It’s not like we’re Lucinda Rinaldi,” Elsie added.

“I have my resources,” Emil had told them. He had never been a big spender and giving his children elegant weddings would be his one extravagance. He knew he had to be careful. No one must suspect where his money came from, not even the girls. Not yet.

He had not believed in a treasure buried in the tunnels beneath Almasy House, but he had found Rose’s secret stash, and it was much larger than he or anyone else imagined. It would make sure his family never wanted for anything again.

Emil was sitting in the kitchen of his home with his two daughters. His wife had died the year before and he still missed her, but the girls kept the kitchen spotless and looking like a picture from one of those ladies’ magazines. Mary had made the pink gingham curtains and Elsie made the matching tablecloth. A younger daughter, Alice made red potholders that somehow looked good with the pink gingham. The appliances gleamed. Mary would polish them after each use.

“One small request,” Emil had said. “Dylan will be the best man at the weddings.”

“No problem,” Both his daughters and his soon-to-be-sons-in law agreed. They all liked Dylan, the girl’s younger brother.

Emil had raised seven boys and three girls in this house that still rang with activity. His wife was gone now. The two oldest boys were off at Northern Michigan University studying engineering. Mary and Elsie would soon be off raising families of their own. The girls were talking about Dylan.

“Maybe he’ll stop mooning over Elaine Dabb”

“What’s Elaine up to lately. She was after that priest.”

“I understand he’s left town.”

“He’s still around. And she’s still living with him. He still owns Almasy House.”

“Will he reopen it?”


 Emil shut out his daughters as they talked about the big house. He was glad the priest seemed to have lost interest in the tunnels. Rumor had it he had gotten a scare down there and would not return. Emil had worried about running into the priest and being chased from the tunnels or at least the tunnels closest to the house where the priest might claim ownership.

Yet as a mining engineer Emil had some rights down below.

The girls were back to wedding plans. Flowers, dresses and honeymoons. Let the girls plan. There would be time enough later to tell them about his good fortune. He decided the two oldest girls would be his best confederates. Could he tell them and not their husbands-to-be? What about his other children?

Sonny and Miles met for a drink. Both wore their uniforms. Sonny was a Michigan State trooper and Miles was a Mountain Ridge deputy sheriff.

Their beers were cold as ice shacks and foamy like snow piles. The Ink Spots sang on the juke box.

“What’s this town coming to?” Sonny lamented. “Used to be a white man’s town.”

“Still is,” Miles assured him. “It’s gonna stay that way as long as my dad is the sheriff.”

“You get rid of those Jews yet?

“You mean the Brianka girls? I got rid of their brother.”

“He’ll be back.”

“Not if he wants to stay out of prison. Old Man Rinaldi arranged an easy sentence, but Jackie Boy has to stay out of town and away from Lucinda Rinaldi.”

“Those Rinaldis. I would’t be surprised if they ain’t got Indian or Jew or even Nigger blood in them.”

“Don’t matter what they got except money, and they got plenty of that.”

“I tell ya Jews hire other Jews. You ever see Rinaldi in a church?” Sonny gulped more beer and the foam stayed on his mouth and day-old whiskers.

“I ain’t goin’ up against Enrico Rinaldi,” Miles insisted. “He owns the biggest mine in town and he ain’t laid no one off yet. We done lost enough jobs to this here Depression. And what is Roosevelt doing about it? Nothing.”

“I’m not talking about going against Rinaldi. But those two maids of his.” Miles remembered the night they had followed that older Brianka girl from the movie theater. They had tackled her in the woods and raped her. “One of ‘em is leaving.” he said.

“Which one?”

“The older one. She’s marrying. now get this; she’s marrying Ezekiel Cheney. The guy is a hundred years old or close to it, but she’s gonna get his pension.”

Sonny swallowed his drink. “If she’s marrying old Ezekiel, she’ll be alone out there in that farm house. Easy to get to.”

Miles nodded. “You know we ain’t got a Klan here no more. None that I know of.”

“We got us,” Sonny said.

“We got another problem,” Miles sipped his beer slowly.

“You mean that priest? No one believes he saw anything. He’s too spooked to go back from what I can tell. He wouldn’t even go back in the tunnel with you.”

“We gotta fix this.” Miles insisted. “We gotta make sure he don’t say no more about bodies in those tunnels.”

“I done closed that section…”

“He’s a loose end, and we gotta deal with it.”

“Which one of us is gonna do that?”

While the Mynter girls planned their weddings, Lucinda Rinaldi allowed professionals to plan hers. She had confessed her family’s secret or tried to, but Brad already knew. She was grateful that Brad still wanted her, but she didn’t love Brad.

Surely she wasn’t the first bride in history to go to the altar without love in her heart for the man she would marry. Brad Davies needed her father’s money and her dad needed the prestige of being related to the Davies.

Her marriage would open doors for her dad.

How had Brad known about her family? Could others find out? Of course, there was always a trail no matter how hard her father had tried to cover up their Negro blood. It was there.

Brad was ambitious. He’d probably win the U.S. senate seat in November.

No one must ever know the truth about her family.

Even with her dad’s wealth and her soon-to-be husband’s old family name, she knew there was danger. And Daddy said he had seen Klansmen dressed in sheets and pillow cases right in the lobby of Almasy House. But that had been years ago. It was the time that Jack Brianka had lost his family.

Jack said that the Klan had attacked the family on the night his mother died. His father had disappeared. She wondered what really happened to Jack’s dad. Some people said he had been lynched that night. And the Briankas weren’t even black. They were Jewish; and she knew some people disliked the Jews as much as they disliked the Negros.

The Klan existed here in Mountain Ridge and probably in every community. Lucinda was scared.

Miles drove to the house where Hollander and that Elaine girl were staying. He knocked on the door, and Hollander answered.

“I got a county commissioner wants someone to take a look at the house,” Miles said. “Make sure everything is up to code.”

“House? You mean Almasy House? What does he need to do?”

“Not sure,” Miles admitted. “He wants you to meet him there tomorrow morning.”

Yvonne Brianka married Ezekial Cheney at the Mountain City Courthouse on September 23, 1935. He was ninety-six and the bride was nineteen. Present were Vonnie’s sister, Lisa, her employer Lucinda Rinaldi and the groom’s nephew, Dennis Cheney, who had to rush home to farm chores. Dennis was fifteen; his parents had died in a car accident in December and he ran a 400 plus acre farm with help from his uncle Ezekiel and a few seasonal farm hands. The mule had been retired before his parents died, and it was replaced by a new John Deere tractor. The crop that year had been a good one.

Vonnie promised to save some wedding dinner for him.

After the ceremony, the wedding group minus Dennis went back to the Rinaldi kitchen where they ate ham, mashed potatoes, buttered corn, fresh bread and apple pie.

Lucinda gave the couple one thousand dollars.

“We can’t take this. This is a fortune,” Vonnie protested.

“Please,“ Lucinda smiled. “I’m going to miss you. The two women hugged. When they had a few monuments alone, Vonnie said, “I don’t know if Lisa can handle the chores alone.”

“She’ll be fine. She’s a hard worker.”

“The nightmares might come back.”

Lucinda knew it must have been difficult for the siblings to lose their parents when they were so young. “You have to give Lisa a chance. She’s stronger than you think. She can’t grow if you and Jack keep smothering her.”

“I hope she’ll be all right.”

“I wish we had reported…,” Lucinda paused. She was one of the few people who knew Vonnie was expecting a baby. “reported what happened to you. You were raped. This. This baby isn’t your fault.”

“It doesn’t make any difference,” Vonnie said. “I want this child. Thanks to Ezekial, I won’t have to give the baby up.”

Then the couple hurried off in a taxi that would take them to the farm. They had talked over their individual needs and had an understanding. They would have separate bedrooms. Vonnie would keep the house and help Dennis run the farm. In return, she got room and board, a father and a last name for the baby she was expecting, and she would get five acres and a widow’s pension when Ezekiel died.

It was a marriage of convenience, and it saved her. She could not continue working for the Rinaldis. Enrico could not have a pregnant maid in his house. People would talk.

Who would believe she had been raped? Even if she had reported the attack, people still might not believe her.

Lucinda’s father was very sensitive to town gossip that was already speculating he could be the father of Vonnie’s baby. This was the best solution for Vonnie and for Ezekial.

But was it the best solution for Lisa?

Hollander arrived at Almasy House a half hour before his scheduled appointment with this commissioner or whomever it was who would inspect the house. It had been several months since he and Elaine moved out. A cobweb swung from the ceiling. A thin layer of dust covered the sheeted furniture. Why had he wanted to inherit this monstrosity. It wasn’t worth the years he had spent courting the old woman.

Rose’s bank accounts had been a disappointment. There had been no fortune, at least none he had found. What this place needed was an exorcism. But then he wasn’t a priest anymore. Let the evil spirits have the place.

He heard a noise in the cellar. Had that inspector arrived early? He moved toward the stairs, flipped the light switch. Nothing. Of course, the power was off. He himself had arranged for that. He heard a noise behind him, felt a shove and then he was falling head first down the cellar stairs. The cement floor came up to meet him.

He remained conscious at the bottom of the cellar stairs. Two pair of large men’s shoes approached him. He couldn’t move his head. He couldn’t look up to see who stood over him.

“Look at that. He’s still breathin’ A fall like that shoulda killed a man.”

“How we gonna finish him off?”

“Gotta be a board around here some place. Ain’t there a brick.”

Hollander closed his eyes. He didn’t feel the blow that killed him. But he knew one of the men who delivered it. It was that dumb deputy, the sheriff’s son.

At first, Elaine didn’t worry. Jeff often spent the day at the library or in one of the local restaurants. Sometimes he would go fishing.

Night came. She thought he might be with friends. Except he had made few friends in town. People mistrusted him. He had been dismissed by the Catholic Church; he lived with her and showed no sign of buying her a ring. People called what she and Jeff were doing “shacking up.” Elaine’s parents and their friends detested Jeff Hollander.

Early the next morning, Elaine called Leo’s office. “Jeff’s’ missing. I’m sure something happened to him.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Leo asked.

“Yesterday. He went to Almasy House. He was meeting somebody there. Somebody from the county.”

“Don’t see why anyone from the county would want to go there. You sure?”

“I just know he didn’t come back and something may have happened to him.”

“You got a key to that there old house?”

“No. Maybe. I think Jeff keeps one on the dresser. He might have taken it with him.”


 “I’ll be there in half an hour and then if you have a key, we’ll go look around at the old house.”

“Di I have to go back there. The place gives me the creeps.”

“I’ll have Miles do it. Just give him the key if you have it.”

Miles had his back to; his dad, and he was going through some old files when the call came in. He smiled. “Don’t mind if I do take this call.” he said.

He knew the door to the house would be open. He and Sonny had left it that way.”

TO BE CONTINUED:

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.

CHATER SEVEN "BROKEN HOMES, UNKEPT GARDENS'

Chapter Seven

Vonnie awoke at 3 a.m. and quickly pulled the slop bucket from under her bed. She threw up and then rested her head against the bed. She had the flu, but her job was too important for her to miss a day, especially when there was so much to do. She mustn’t let anyone know she was sick.

She remembered times at the orphanage when she and other orphans had come down with the flu. It seldom lasted for more than a few days. She had been sick yesterday morning too, but the sickness had passed as the day wore on.

She and Lucinda were doing spring house cleaning, so there was lots of work to do. Thank heavens they had Jack for the heavy lifting.

With her stomach momentarily under control, she moved toward the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. Camomile tea would taste great and make her feel better as it had yesterday.

As long as she was up, she might as well start on the cooking. She would make buttermilk pancakes. That was Jack and Lucinda’s favorite. Even Mr. Rinaldi who seldom admitted to liking much of anything confessed to liking her buttermilk pancakes.

She looked toward Jack’s window above the garage. He wouldn’t be up yet, and when he did awaken, the smell and the taste of breakfast would please him.

She felt a cramp in her stomach like something was turning over in there. She sat down for a minute. Perhaps she should try to rest more until this flu passed. She wished Lisa were here. Lucinda had written a letter to the orphanage and suggested that perhaps Lisa could finish her school studies here in Mountain Ridge.

The hours passed. The sun came up. Still there was no light in Jack’s window. Yvonne wondered if he had the flu too and was perhaps staying in bed a little later. But he would not want to miss a day of work. She would have to awaken him. She was sure Lucinda would let them slip in their chores, but not Mr. Rinaldi.

She put on her coat and started to go outside. It was light now. Still she was scared. Since that attack just a few weeks ago, she was terrified of being alone outside. She was getting to have as many fears as Lisa. She hesitated. When she heard noises coming from within the house, she went back inside.

Vonnie took off her coat and walked to the dining room where she started setting the table for breakfast.

The door to the dining room opened and Lucinda came in. “You’re up.” Lucinda seemed surprised.

Vonnie realized she was still in her nightgown, but she could quickly change. Despite the stomach ache she was glad for Lucinda’s company.

“I was just about to get dressed.” Vonnie said. “I’m sorry. I started making breakfast and…Well, I was just going to get Jack and then I’ll….” She noticed Lucinda had started crying. “What’s wrong?”

“Something dreadful has happened. I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Is Jack…”

“He’s been arrested. Leo says he tried to rob a gas station last night.”

“He wouldn’t. Who’s Leo?” Then Vonnie remembered that Leo was the sheriff. He had been there that night her mother died, and her pa disappeared. “Jack wouldn’t,” Vonnie repeated.

“I know that.” Lucinda explained about the sheriff’s visit and then she said, “Vonnie, this is all my fault. I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Tell me what? How could this be your fault?” Vonnie was in full terror mode. She sat down and took a few deep breaths. She couldn’t be like Lisa and afraid of everyone and everything. And if Jack needed help, she would have to find a way to save him. “What do you have to tell me?”

Lucinda had been staring at her. “You’re sick.”

“No, Just….I don’t know. But what happened with Johnny?” She hadn’t called him Johnny since they were little kids. Now he was Johnny again. It seemed they were now helpless like children in so many ways.

“I need to tell you this.” Lucinda’s voice cracked. “But I don’t know how.” “Just tell me.” Whatever it was, she would have to face it. Was she fired? Surely Jack would lose his job now that he had been arrested.

Lucinda sat clutching a handkerchief “Jack and I have become very good friends.”

“You’ve been a wonderful employer and, yes, a friend. I thank you.”

“You don’t understand. I have a crush on your brother and he likes me too.”

“You’re lovers?”

“No, it never came to that. We know we can’t be lovers. Daddy’s very ambitious, and he wants me to marry Brad Davies. I don’t love him, but there are things about my family. We came from the South. We were dirt poor sharecroppers two generations ago. And Daddy wants us to have prestige. I will do the right thing. I’ll marry Brad. Jack has already decided to move on. He just wants to stay close enough to take care of you and your sister, Lisa.”

“But Jack was arrested. What does this have to do with you and Brad?”

“Please don’t think badly of me or my dad. I think my father arranged this to get Jack out of the way. He swears he had nothing to do with it, but I just don’t know what to believe.”

“No one would be so mean.” Vonnie was close to tears.

“I agreed to marry Brad. The weddings all planned or almost. I hoped that way Jack could stay on working here, but…”

“But what?” Vonnie asked. “We can’t let Jack go to prison.”

“Father has agreed to get the charges dropped. He knows the judge and the sheriff.

I would’ve had to marry Brad anyway. My father had it all arranged.”

Rose Almasy’s cold had turned into a flu. Doc Tracie had come and gone. He said he expected a full recovery. Jeff Hollander did not.

Rose was still adamant about leaving her estate to the church. Hollander wanted control for himself. He had spent the last ten years, nursing the old lady, and he wanted something for his efforts.

The doctor had left a sedative for Rose. Hollander gave her half of the dosage. “Where are my glasses,” she moaned. “I can’t read without them.”

“You need to rest now. I’ll get your glasses for you in the morning.” He had the papers all ready. “Just sign.”

“Are you sure I need to sign these? I already signed so many papers.” Her voice was a whine. How Hollander hated her whine.

“Leaving an estate this size to the church takes work. We want to make sure there are no loopholes.”

“Loopholes?” She said the word like she didn’t understand it. She stared at the papers, but Hollander knew she could not read them. Not without her glasses. She sighed and then said. “There are those children. You remember.”

“Yes, Rose. I presided over their mother’s funeral. The children are fine. The two oldest work for Enrico Rinaldi. The youngest is still in the orphanage. “You know what happened to their mother?”

“Yes.” He knew what had happened to their father as well, but the secret was safe.

“I have to take care of those children.”

“They will be taken care of. He knew the boy had been arrested and would be heading to prison. Rose didn’t need to know that. It would complicate things.

She lay quietly for a long time. She closed her eyes, and he thought she may have fallen asleep. Damn. He needed her to sign the papers now. Tomorrow she might be feeling better, and it might be a while before he could get the papers signed.

Then she opened her eyes, stared at the papers and obediently signed them.

“I’ll make you some hot cocoa,” he said.

“I don’t want any.”

“It’ll make you feel better.”

He went downstairs and carefully mixed the medication, the chocolate and the hot milk. He added the arsenic he had purchased at the drug store in Marquette. When he returned, she had fallen asleep. We can’t have that, he thought.

He gently shook her awake. “Here is your cocoa.”

“I don’t want that.” she said. “I think you are trying to poison me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rose. Drink. There’s some medication in there from the doctor. You trust him don’t you.”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“Please,” he said in his nicest voice.

She took the drink and slowly drank it all down.

He sat beside her bed and waited for her to stop breathing. She didn’t. She awoke and said she was much sicker. She ordered him to call the doctor. He said the doctor was out of town on an emergency.

He made her a second cup with more of the arsenic in it.

She wouldn’t drink it. He took a pillow and held it firmly over her face. She hardly struggled.

Finally she stopped breathing. He took the cup and saucer downstairs and carefully washed them. He disposed of the unused arsenic by dumping it in an outhouse.

Should he get Elaine to find the body when she came in to clean? No, he would place a “Do Not Disturb” sign on her door and leave instructions that Rose not be disturbed. He shut out the lights at Almasy House, took his papers and went to the church.

He had early mass to celebrate tomorrow.

The ladies began their bridge game.

“Rose Almasy died.”

“And left everything to Jeff Hollander.”

“He’s telling people she left it to the church.”

“Same thing. He’s a priest.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“Didn’t she have a daughter.”

“Before my time. But if she did, the girl is dead or gone.”

“Rosie had a right to leave her things to whomever she chose.”

“I think blood kin have got some rights.”

“Wonder what will happen if the girl shows up and demands her share of her mother’s estate.”

“There might be grandchildren.”

“Of course, I never approved of Mrs. Almasy. Making her living with gangsters and all.”

“I never approved of Prohibition.” Someone said. The ladies laughed.

“I like a drink now and then. I admit that. But I sure didn’t like my husband coming home drunk. I had a mind to turn her in myself.”

“When’s Lucinda Rinaldi getting married?” That was an abrupt change of subject, but it happened often. The ladies had only so much time to discuss important events.

“Next month, isn’t? I can’t wait to read about her dress, and the bridesmaids.”

“Her husband’s running for congress.”

“He’s as handsome as Clark Gable.”

“Handsomer.”

“She’s sure a lot better off with him than with that other one.”

“What other one?”

“Jack Brianka.”

“How a girl like that can have anything to do with such riffraff.”

“I can’t believe he was anything but a gardener to her.”

“I saw them together.”

“Well, he’s off to prison. That’s the last we’ll see of him.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish. That’s what I always say.”

The mourners slowly began leaving the graveyard. A few reporters circulated amongst them.

“How did you know Rose Almasy?”

“What was she like?”

“How did you meet her?”

“I understand she left her money to her priest.”

The sheriff Leo Olson and his son Miles stayed away from the reporters. They had no comment.

Most of the other mourners were just the curious. Rose had been a recluse for the last years of her life, and saw no one except that priest. He saw a lot of her.

Leo and Miles watched. “The treasure seekers are going to be a problem,” Miles said.

The sheriff wasn’t that interested and didn’t consider it his problem. “It shouldn’t be too tough for Hollander to keep people off his property. He can afford to hire guards.”

“Phef! He ain’t interested in the property. He already cleaned out her bank accounts. But if there’s a treasure, it’s legally his. At least if it’s on his property.”

“There wasn’t much in those bank accounts, and everyone knows she had a fortune.”

“He’ll start by searching the house himself. He ain’t gonna let anyone else do it. And if he doesn’t find anything…” Miles didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t really know what the priest would do. He could keep searching himself or he could hire someone like Emil Mynter to go into the tunnels and search. “People think the treasure is buried in the old mine tunnels. They’re dangerous.”

His dad nodded.

Most of the mourners were gone now. Just Leo and Miles stood in the graveyard.

“Gotta block off those damn tunnels,” said Leo.

“Don’t know where they all start and end.”

“Damn it. Talk to Emil Mynter. He’s a mining engineer. He knows about the mining tunnels.”


 “But does he know about Rose’s tunnels?”

“Rumor is he’s explored them.”

“And some of those tunnels dead end into the mines. Rinaldi and the other mine owners could make it their business.”

The reporters got what they could of the story. Rose Almasy had trusted no one. She hired different teams of workers to dig the tunnels.

She had made a fortune selling alcohol during Prohibition until that one night.

People weren’t willing to talk about what made her stop selling the booze. Those who knew what happened kept silent. Others speculated. Everyone knew something awful had happened.

There were rumors. But a town the size of Mountain Ridge had lots of rumors.

Leo and Miles continued to watch.

“I don’t see it as much of a problem.” Leo was saying. “Most people know more than to enter those tunnels. Those fool enough to do so, do so at their own risk.”

“You think she told the priest where her treasure is buried?” Miles asked.

His dad scoffed. “If there even is a treasure.”

“I’ll go in. Have a look around. I’ve been in the tunnels before.”

“For God’s sake, be careful. I don’t want you getting lost in there.”

“Like I said, I’ve been in there before.

Lisa was two months away from her 16th birthday. She would leave the orphanage then. Vonnie had promised to get her a job with the wealthy Rinaldi family. Lisa was anxious to get away. The nuns were mean. She was terrified of Father Hollander.

Even the other orphans called her a “Dirty Jew.” She wasn’t Jewish. She knew nothing about the Jewish religion, and her mother had been a Catholic girl. At least that is what Vonnie and Jack said.

Lisa knew she was in trouble when Father Hollander called her into the rectory. But she couldn’t figure out what she had done. The bedwetting had stopped and even before, it only happened when a dream was so bad, she lost control.

What happened to her on those nights? Sometimes she remembered pain, darkness, kicks, swear words. They were all part of the dream. A hanged man. Had there been a hanged man? Her pa…

She remembered the darkness that night she had been hurt as a child. She remembered the men who looked like ghosts. Their eyes were black sockets behind slits in pillowcases. She could still feel the punches, the kicks and the scratches as she crawled on the ground. She had wanted to get to her pa. What were those men doing to him?

She remembered her mother lying still in a box and that that she herself had broken ribs, bruises, and scratches. Her fingers were so cold. She remembered the old woman who told her not to tell anyone what happened that night. “You must never tell.”

The fear stayed with Lisa even after she woke up. She would be shivering even on the warmest nights. That long ago winter night would not leave.

Usually she had control though she was too afraid of the dark to get up by herself and go pee. There might be scary things in the shadows at the orphanage. And those scary things always seemed ready to swoop down on her.

Now Father Hollander wanted to see her. What was this about?

She knocked. No answer. Lisa knew Sr. Beatrice was angry about the nightmares. The nun said Lisa’s screams were worse than the devil himself calling.

Lisa knocked again and finally she heard the priest tell her to come inside. When she entered, he was reading a newspaper. She trembled as she waited for his words. Would he beat her again? What had she done now? Last night she had awakened scared, but she didn’t think she had screamed. She was sure she had not screamed. Had someone said she screamed?

Finally he looked up. “Your brother’s in trouble.” He pushed the newspaper toward her.

She read the headline and first paragraph. “Armed robbery,” the paper said. What could that have to do with her brother. Jack wouldn’t rob anyone. Then she read a little further. It said Jack Brianka had robbed a gas station.

“He wouldn’t,” she said.

“Obviously he did.” He waited for the information to sink in. “Your family is no good. Rotten to the core. I tried to help your brother.”

“You beat him.” Lisa said. She didn’t try to hide her anger. If she was going to be beaten anyway, what difference did it make what she said?

He glared at her for a moment. She could see the anger bubbling behind his eyes. Did he think he was somehow helping Johnny and helping her by beating them? Her body still hurt, and there were angry red slashes where his belt had broken her skin. Sr. Beatrice had given her some salve and told her to stop crying.

“Well you can’t stay here any longer. I’ve had enough of you Jewish vermin.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I wish they had never brought me here.”

“Ungrateful little brat. We made arrangements. Wait outside.” He spit the words out.

She ran outside. She was sitting on the church steps crying when Sr. Beatrice brought her a suitcase and her few belongings.

“Are you all right?” Beatrice asked.

“I won’t be waking you up anymore. I’m leaving.”

“I know. Do you need any money?”

“I just want to be away.”

“I am sorry. I know I’ve been cranky and…” She reached into her pocket gave Lisa five dollars. “You might need this.” Then the nun sat down beside the girl.

Lisa got up and would have started walking. She didn’t even know which way to go to Mountain Ridge.

“Please sit back down. Your sister will be here soon.”

“She’s coming?”

The nun nodded.

As Lisa and Beatrice waited in silence, Lisa wondered how her sister would get to the orphanage, and how they would get to Mountain Ridge. Usually one of the nuns drove the orphans to the bus or train station. Lisa thought her sister would have to take the bus herself, walk to the orphanage and then walk back to the station with Lisa.

When a shiny red and silver car pulled up, Lisa thought maybe it belonged to a rich fancy priest like Father Hollander. It was a pretty car, and Lisa liked pretty things. She stared at the silver chrome. Lisa blinked and when she opened her eyes, her sister was sliding out from the driver’s door. Lisa ran into Yvonne’s arms.

“Ready to go to Mountain City and your brand new job?”

“Jack’s in trouble,” Lisa said.

“We’ll talk about that on the way back.”

The car attracted attention. Kids came out of the orphanage to gawk. Even Father Hollander who drove a nice car, but not one this shiny looked out the parsonage window.

“What a beautiful car,” Beatrice exclaimed.

“It’s brand new and a Rolls Royce.”

“Can I get in?” Lisa asked.

Yvonne walked around the car and opened the side door for her sister. Then she thanked Sr. Beatrice for waiting with Lisa. “I know she’s not easy.”

Beatrice nodded.

Lisa got out of the car and handed Beatrice back her five dollars. Vonnie hurried back behind the wheel and couldn’t resist waving at everyone. “They always thought we were trash. Well, watch this trash ride away in style.”

“Where did you get the car?” Lisa asked. “You didn’t steal it?”

“Of course, not. It belongs to Lucinda. Our employer. She’s very pretty, very nice and very rich.”

“What about Jack?”

“Jack is going to be okay. We just won’t be able to see him for awhile.”

“The newspaper said he robbed someone.”

“The charge is armed robbery of a gas station.”

“He didn’t do it.”

“No. But he will have to do some time.”

“Why?”

“Because. Lisa, we have to let this go. Jack is getting five years. For armed robbery he could get twenty years or more.”

“ “He didn’t do it.”

“He took a deal. He will go to prison for five years, and then he can’t come back to the Upper Peninsula.”

“Why?” Lisa whined.

“Just let it go.” Vonnie insisted.

Lisa was nervous about her new job as Vonnie drove into the Rinaldi estate. “What are those trees called? She asked Yvonne.

“Hosta plants, I think. When we write to Jack, we can ask him.”

“When can we see him?”

“We have to write to Johnny. We can’t go see him.” Jack had insisted that his sisters not visit him in prison. “Those are calla lilies,” Vonnie added pointing. She hoped changing the subject would help. Right now Lisa had lots to learn about being a maid because pretty soon she would have to take over all the duties. Jack wasn’t the only one who was in trouble.

Lisa looked around like she was in a great cathedral. She felt dwarfed by the size of the house. “Remember the house they took us to after…after we lost our parents.”

“That was Almasy House, and it’s just the other side of that bunch of trees there. It’s not a boarding house anymore. Mrs. Almasy died. Father Hollander owns the house now.”


 “It was a spooky place.”

“It still is. Not that I’ve been inside since… well since the last time.”

They entered the house through the kitchen door. Lisa fell in love with the shiny steel cabinets, the huge stove, the ice box.

Vonnie had helped lug Lisa’s small suitcase inside, and she motioned for Lisa to stop admiring the kitchen and to come see their bedroom.

There was one big feather bed. “We sleep here.” Yvonne said. Lucinda just had the bigger bed brought down from one of the upstairs bedrooms, so there will be lots of room for both of us. The bed I was using is much smaller.”

Vonnie thought how Lisa would soon not need the big bed, and she wondered if Lisa could manage on her own. “Do you still have the nightmares? The nuns told me that you did.”

“Sometimes.”

“You’re safe here.”

Lisa didn’t answer. How could she feel safe anywhere?

They heard the kitchen door open and shut. “Anybody here?” Lucinda called.

Vonnie pulled her sister back into the kitchen. There stood the prettiest girl Lisa had ever seen. Not even movie stars were as pretty as Lucinda Rinaldi. This woman was a queen. A goddess. But prettier.

“This is my sister, Lisa.” Vonnie said.

The pretty girl held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Lisa shrank back. She could hardly look at such beauty, much less touch it. But Vonnie pulled her toward the goddess.

“I’m Lucinda. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Lisa wanted to cry, but she knew she shouldn’t. She blinked back the tears, but when she tried to say, “Thank you,” the words sounded chocked.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you.” Lucinda’s smile was like a light glowing in the room. She had a aura like saints in those pictures on church walls. “You’ll be very busy. Let me help Vonnie show you around.”

They went from room to room; Lisa was getting confused. So many rooms. This house was as big as the convent where the nuns lived.

They whizzed through the foyer, dining room, library, parlor and into Mr. Rinaldi’s study. The man seated there had black wavy hair streaked with white. He wore a grey suit with a vest and tie. She noticed his clothes were spotless and pressed. Who had ironed the suit? Yvonne? Lisa wondered if she would ever be able to press clothes so perfectly.

She didn’t know anyone who wore suits all the time. Even Father Hollander usually wore a sweater over his collar, and everybody knew he was wealthy. Did even President Roosevelt dress this elegantly?

The elegant man set his pen aside and stood to greet her. She thought she should bow and did so.

“We’re not royalty, so please don’t treat us like way. It just could go to Father’s head.” Lucinda laughed. Enrico Rinaldi smiled at his daughter and Lisa recognized real affection. Her pa used to smile at her and Vonnie that way.

Thinking of pa made her think about that night. She didn’t want to remember what happened. If she thought about it, she was sure to have nightmares, and what would these wonderful people think?

The women went up stairs, where there were half a dozen bedrooms. They went into a water closet. Vonnie showed her how the toilets flushed. There are two water closets, one upstairs, one downstairs.

Lisa had never seen a flush toilet before, and she asked if she could flush it. She did. She flushed it several times and giggled as the water rushed in and out of the bowl.

“I still use a slop bucket under my bed,” Vonnie confessed.

“Why?” Lucinda asked. “You’re perfectly welcome to use the water closets.”

“I usually do during the day. At night, I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

“Father and I get up in the night too, and nobody is disturbed.”

“Why so many bedrooms, just for the two of you?” Lisa asked. Then she wondered if her question was appropriate. Should she be questioning her employer?

“We have guests sometimes.” Lucinda explained. The beautiful girl acted like a friend, and Lisa was sure she had never met anyone so nice before.

TO BE CONTINUED: