by Gerard Denza
I shook hands with Erich, but it was Rosamund who spoke to me.
-Won’t you please sit down with us? I feel that we have much to talk about and very little time to really say anything. I am tired, Mr. Mendez, and soon must excuse myself for the evening.
I sat down and tried to make myself comfortable in one of the hard-backed chairs which wasn’t an easy thing to do considering that I had nothing on underneath my bathrobe. I looked about the room and noticed that the furniture was old and bore the mark of a particular time period that I was unfamiliar with.
Erich stared at me; but, I ignored him.
-I’m sure that Susan will soon be out with your food, Mr. Mendez. Perhaps, I may offer you a cigarette? They’re German cigarettes and strong.
-Thank you, Miss Spender.
I took one and Miss Spender lit it for me with the lighted candle from the center of the table. She placed the candle back in its holder and glanced at Erich.
-Erich, do you want one?
-No.
-I will get directly to the point: it concerns my dead sister, Valerie. I have given Miss Lake her journal, and I give you permission to read it, as well. Miss Lake is not to keep it from you. Perhaps, the two of you will be able to make some sense of her murder.
-I appreciate your trust, Miss Spender, but-
-There are no “buts,” for I feel that doomsday is upon us all. My sister’s life mattered, mine does not.
-I’ve got a few questions for you.
-I will try to answer them.
-You mentioned that Marlena had come to Germany seeking information.
-Yes. My sister was a concert pianist. In Germany, she was well known- that rain, it beats against the house so terribly!
-Is there a light switch? It’s too damned dark in this place.
Erich laughed at my question.
-Marlena prefers candlelight: brings out the romantic in her!
-Miss Lake had read about my sister; but, it wasn’t her skills on the piano that interested her. Valerie was an innocent- Erich, I will slap you if you continue to laugh!
Erich stoppet laughing.
Miss Spender continued.
-Valerie’s powers of clairvoyance were also known to the public and that is what interested Miss Lake.
-I understand; but, Marlena never actually met Valerie.
A thunder clap filled the dark room; but, the candle’s flame didn’t even flicker.
-Yes. But, Miss Lake did make it to the funeral.
-How was Valerie murdered?
Erich leaned forward to stare even more intently at me.
-I will answer that one. The method of my girlfriend’s death-
-“Girlfriend?”
-Yes. Valerie was murdered in a unique way: the thinnest of metal rods was driven through her heart. But, that was not the only unique feature of this crime. The metal rod extended from the ceiling to the floor: it penetrated the bed that she was asleep on. It took the police hours to remove it. Have I explained it well, Rosamund?
-In a cold-blooded way, Erich, you’ve done well.
-“Cold-blooded,” you call me? Perhaps, your are right; but, the facts are cold-blooded.
I interrupted the two combatants.
-Miss Spender, I mentioned four men to you on the phone. You sounded pretty distressed about that.
It was Erich’s turn to interrupt me.
-You have seen these four men, Mr. Mendez? Consider yourself lucky to be alive.
-Four men were seen leaving the scene of the crime after my sister’s murder; and, there were four strange men that very afternoon who had failed in an attempt on her life.
-Who saw them?
Erich grinned as he answered me.
-An entire audience of people. None came forward. They were too busy saving their own necks.
-Was an Hasid seen there at any time?
Erich spat on the floor.
-None was mentioned. Why do you ask?
-A man was hanging about Yolanda’s place last night. I thought that there might be a connection. I could be wrong.
The hate and revulsion poured through Erich’s voice.
-I’m sure that you’re not wrong. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Yes, Mr. Mendez, I’m not ashamed of my beliefs.
Rosamund reached into her purse.
-Read my sister’s diary and here...here is a photo of her. She was beautiful, no? And, why are you laughing, Erich?
-Oh, no reason. Perhaps, I am just nervous.
Thunder claps came and went and still the candle’s flame didn’t so much as flicker. I got up from the table and Erich motioned for me to sit down.
-I apologize for my rudeness. Please, sit down.
-I think I’ll see what’s keeping Susan. Excuse me?
I couldn’t get out of that room fast enough. I walked into the kitchen and caught Susan in the act of placing two pot-pies on to a serving tray. The kitchen was spacious, but dark like all the other rooms in the house.
-Hello, Mr. Mendez. I was just about to come in and fetch you. Mother should be downstairs in the basement. Why don’t you go downstairs, and I’ll bring your food to you? Mother wants to speak to you and you’ll find her interesting. And, you’ll probably form a most definite opinion about her.
-I’ll see you downstairs, then, Susan.
I nearly walked into the door, but caught myself just in time. I took the stairs two at a time and found myself standing in a finished basement of sorts. I say “of sorts” because it looked more like a spruced-up bomb shelter.
The door opened and Susan came down with the serving tray. I got out of her way, because I knew that she would refuse any offer of help. She placed the tray on the coffee table and poured some coffee for me.
-Sit down, Mr. Mendez. There’s milk and sugar here for your coffee, if you like. I hope you enjoy the food. I haven’t succeeded in poisoning anyone, yet.
Susan and I laughed. I walked over to the sofa, picked up the cup of coffee, and drank it. Man, that hit the spot!
-Good coffee. Thanks. Mind if I call you “Susan?”
-Of course not, Mr.-
-Edward.
-Edward. Mother should be here shortly; but you can’t run a clock by her. We only have one clock in the house, as a matter of fact. I hate to leave you alone down here.
-Then, don’t.
Susan didn’t like my interrupting her.
-But, I’m drying your clothes out and I don’t want them burnt to ashes.
-Won’t you sit down for just a minute? I won’t bite. Promise.
-I really can’t. There are your clothes, and I’m in the middle of a research paper. I’ll tell mother that you’re waiting for her; assuming that I can find her. See you later.
Susan turned to leave and had one foot on the first step when she stopped short and started.
-Hello?
-What is it, Susan?
-I thought that I saw something in the window...a face, I think. I can’t be certain.
I walked over to the window, which was at shoulder level, but all I could see was a branch blowing against the dirty glass pane. I ran my hand along the concrete sill. The walls were thick and the window was insulated with mesh wire.
-My mother’s imagination must be rubbing off on me. I better watch myself or I might become as superstitious as she, which is not a logical way of looking at the world. See you later.
Susan walked up the steps and back into the kitchen. I walked over to the couch and drank some more coffee. I was beginning to relax and feel warm. The couch was comfortable enough so I kicked off my slippers and crossed my legs and even my feet felt warm. I loosened my bathrobe and, leaning over, picked up a pot-pie and tasted it. Not bad.
The storm raged on outside as the rain hit the house like sprays of bullets meant to murder the people within: interesting sound effect, but unnerving.
I rubbed my hand along my smooth chest and opened the bathrobe a little bit more...yes...I was in the mood for
some sex. I thought of Yolanda and tried not to get an erection. Not easy.
The door opened and someone came down the stairs with a heavy footfall At first, I couldn’t make out who it was because of the dim lighting. I had to wait for the figure to approach me.
It was Marlena. I tried not to smile at her appearance and demeanor. She wore a London Fog trench-coat and open-back house slippers. The trench-coat was opened and revealed a checkered housedress. Marlena’s salt-and-pepper hair was pinned-up with a dozen or so bobby-pins. She held a pair of nylons in her hand and in her other hand was a hair brush. Her movements were feminine and almost coy. It was quite a sight.
-Good evening, Mr. Mendez. How are you on this perfectly dreadful night?
-Right now, I’m dry and warm. And, thanks to your daughter, Susan, I’m eating a pretty decent meal. She’s a pretty good cook.
-So, I see. Oh, please don’t bother to get up. And, you may call me Marlena.
Marlena sat down next to me on the couch and stared at my chest. I thought of Rosamund and Erich and I realized just how unfinished our conversation had been. I had the impulse now to run back upstairs and finish our discussion.
My hostess started unpinning her hair.
-You’re looking very pensive, Edward. What are you thinking about?
-Right now? Rosamund and Erich. I can’t quite make those two characters out. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that they hated each other.
-Oh, yes, Valerie’s sister and her Nazi friend. What were you discussing? Tell me.
-Our conversation kind of drifted off. It was my fault. I was hungry and went looking for Susan. I kind of walked out on them.
-I assume that you went hunting for food and not my daughter? She’s a dear girl but, alas, plain and almost dowdy; wouldn’t you say?
-No. I wouldn’t. She has a charm and quick-wit. I like her. I didn’t find her to be dowdy at all.
-She is quite intelligent: a genius, in fact. She’s of great assistance to me in my work even though our philosophies are quite different. But, we were discussing your conversation with Rosamund and Erich. I can safely assume that you were discussing the murder of her sister, Valerie, and the dead girl’s journal.
-Rosamund gave me permission to read it.
-Did she? It is in my possession now, Edward, and I give you my permission to read it.
-But, Marlena-
-Rosamund is a fool. I will never allow her to have her sister’s journal back. I’ve had to tolerate both her and her Nazi companion for the past few days. However, tomorrow they leave for Munich and good riddance to them both.
My hostess had almost all the pins out of her hair which fell past her shoulders and into a disheveled mess. She looked over at the window as she addressed me.
-What time is it, Edward? I never wear a watch as they make me nervous. They don’t define time, but merely regulate and restrict our perception of that undefinable phenomenon. Don’t you agree?
-Just past seven o’clock.
-Good. I expect to be up all night and that will give us sufficient time to discuss matters.
-That’s why I’m here.
-I do have so much to tell you and even more to ask of you.
-Have you spoken to Yolanda? She may have something pretty extraordinary to tell you. Dolores has been murdered.
-Everything has been taken care of. You were quite right not to inform the police about it. My son, Gabriel, is disposing of the body as we speak.
-Marlena? I’m really at sea here. What is this all about? What the hell’s going on? I can’t even phrase the damned question.
By this time, she had all the pins out of her hair and began combing the mess.
-I always feel like Cleopatra when I’m doing this. Do you think that I look like her? You know, Edward, she was actually rather funny looking?
I didn’t know how to react to that question. It seemed like a contradiction of terms. Marlena smiled and combed her too long hair. She sank further back into the couch. She saved me the trouble of answering.
-Now, as to your question which is my question, as well. Shall I state it for you? Perhaps, then, we can work our way from the beginning and pool our information?
Again, I was saved the trouble of answering.
-I have terrible circulation and that’s why I’m so pale. Do you feel sorry for me, Edward?
Marlena put her nylons on my lap.
-Do you mind? I’ll lose them, otherwise.
I smiled at this strange woman and at the rain and at the darkness. And, I felt like an idiot.
-And, now, the question: when will the event occur?
I was lifted out of my body. I saw a circle of people suspended in the night and a beautiful woman with the most extraordinary aquamarine eyes was sitting next to me.
-Edward?
-What?
-For a moment, it seemed that you had left your body.
-I did. I was in a strange place with people I didn’t recognize. It might have even been the inside of a bar and grill. I don’t know. But, Marlena, what about the event?
-I feel that it will occur soon...sometime this month. It will mean the end of the world.
I took a deep breath.
-I think you’d better tell me everything, if you can.
I slipped my bare feet back into the warm slippers. Outside, the thunder and lightning had stopped, but the rain continued to come down.
-The tale becomes even more bizarre. I must start from the beginning: a beginning that will end with your reading of Valerie Spender’s journal. Sit back and relax and do take your slippers off.
Marlena flipped her hair back and began her story.
-The year was 1922 and, at that time, I was a young and proud woman. However, in my own way, I was naive and, as you’ve guessed, rather curious about things that matter to life and death. I was as poor as the proverbial church mouse and not properly educated. I came from a large family, all of them uneducated and rather vulgar, except for myself, of course.
Another contradiction in terms?
-I was the daughter of poor immigrants, if you can imagine such a thing. We lived in a poor section of the city, and I faced constant ridicule from all quarters. None would dare to ridicule me now, Edward. None.
She continued with her narrative.
-I had to work for a living; but, I managed to visit places: churches, synagogues, and temples and the like. I sought for things that would make my life better and give some sort of meaning to my mundane existence. And, you might say that I found what I was looking for. Of course, as is always the case, it was to be in a perverted form.
-I don’t get you. What were you looking for?
-You will. I would arise early every morning, so as to make the utmost of otherwise wasted time. I would read from the Bible or the Zohar or even Blavatsky’s books. I read at fever pitch and I learned what I still didn’t understand...the beauty and the art of discipline. These were my hours removed from the world and I cherish them still.
-I’m listening.
-It was during these early morning retreats that I learned of a certain Judaic practice: the early morning prayer at synagogue. To my astonishment, women were permitted entrance into even the most Orthodox sanctuaries; separated as they were from the men. Still, I attended and, then, one Saturday, Edward, I strolled down to the Battery and met him.
-Yes? You’re not going to stop there?
-But, my story precedes itself. I must go back and explain everything to you. I attended synagogue with the hope of also finding a husband: a good, Jewish man who would provide for me, so that I could educate myself further. However, that was only a secondary consideration: my main objective was knowledge...the hidden knowledge.
-The occult.
-It has always fascinated me from the time I picked up a Bible. And, then, one morning, I met him. It was after a crowded and uncomfortable service at the synagogue. I was sitting there amongst these people and I could feel his presence. I felt hi
s eyes upon me; but, I couldn’t actually see him. I stayed longer than I normally would have...and still I couldn’t see him. I knew that he hadn’t left, not yet and not without me.
Marlena paused and took a deep breath.
-After nearly everyone had left, I was forced to leave, finishing the pitiful sustenance that they give you and listening to their ceaseless banter. As a stranger, I knew more of their religion than they did. I had taught myself Hebrew. I studied the Holy Qaballah: the sacred glyph. Are you familiar with it, Edward?
I drank my coffee and nodded for her to continue
-That day — and, perhaps, you’ll answer my question later — I took a long and leisurely stroll down to the Battery. At the time I was reading Madame Blavatsky. I looked for an empty bench. I chose one closest to the water’s edge. Before I could even open the book, a man sat down close to me. I was annoyed, as I wanted privacy. Edward, my lover was sitting next to me. It was the first time that I had actually seen him. He had singled me out and had followed me for weeks. He took the book from my hand and spoke to me.
-What did he say?
-He said that he found me interesting...intriguing may have been the word that he used. From that day forward, my life changed. He brought me to a different synagogue and introduced me to Orthodox Rabbis. They respected me because of him. I harbored no illusions. And, then, I met my future husband, who was also a Rabbi. Does that shock you, Edward?
-No. In a way, it seems almost fated. Maybe, pre-ordained would be a better term to use.
-Yes! That’s how I would put it. Good boy. We are in sympathy with each other.
She patted me on the leg and smiled.
-But, Marlena, I’ve got this gut feeling that your husband is a prop in all of this. Tell me more about your lover.
-There is little left to tell. I moved from my parents’ home and became his kept woman. He allowed me to leave my clerk’s job. Under his tutelage, I began my serious studies of the occult. Even after I married, I retained my lover for a brief time.
-What did he tell you about the “event?” Was he trying to warn you?
The rain outside let up. I heard the individual drops of water hit the ground: it was a sickening effect of nature as if it were dying and breathing its last bit of life.
