by Howe, A. E.
“Come in.” Blasko was still wearing his robe. “It came to me that I had no idea what to wear.”
“A black suit is fine,” Josephine said, amused at Blasko’s sudden interest in fitting in.
“Ahhh. Customs vary in the Carpathians. White is the color of mourning for some, while for others it is black. In some areas, the women wear a dark dress with a white veil.”
“Do you have viewings?” Josephine asked, curious about the customs of her ancestors.
“There are vigils in the home of the deceased. The men make the coffin and other objects for the funeral while the women clean and sit with the body. The mirrors are covered, clocks are stopped and the windows are closed.”
“Hmmm… We also drape the mirrors and stop the clocks,” Josephine said. “Which brings up a question I’ve wanted to ask you. Why are you afraid of mirrors?”
“What do you mean?” Blasko tried to sound nonchalant.
“I’ve seen you avert your eyes every time you pass a mirror. And you don’t have a single mirror down here. Why?”
His answer was so long in coming that Josephine thought he was choosing to ignore her. But after a moment he averted his eyes and, his tone subdued, said, “I am… unnatural… When I look in a mirror I see myself as if I have been dead and buried for hundreds of years. At first I worried that others could see me like this, but in time I realized only I could see the face of my true destiny. A constant reminder that my existence is an abomination in the eyes of God.”
Josephine tried to look him in the eyes, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “You’re imagining it,” she said with more assurance than she felt.
“Ha, no,” was all he said. Blasko sat down in a chair, seeming to draw inside himself as she watched.
Josephine could understand regrets. She had her share. She wondered what it must be like to have hundreds of years of regrets.
“Maybe it’s a reminder that your extended existence is a gift that shouldn’t be wasted,” she said at last.
He raised his eyes, his expression curious. “Perhaps.”
“Come on, we have a murderer to catch. You need to get dressed,” she urged.
Blasko came over to her and touched her cheek. “Trust me. We will find this killer.”
Josephine stood still, frozen at his touch. She tried to blink, but could not look away from his penetrating gaze. She felt herself flush. Then, as quickly as the moment had started, it ended and Blasko backed away.
Trying to recover, Josephine heard that annoying squeaking again. She looked up and saw movement in the shadows near the ceiling, but she still couldn’t identify the source of the irritating noise.
“Fine, I’ll get dressed now,” Blasko said, making an obvious effort to rush Josephine out the door.
“What is that?” Josephine asked, pointing toward the rafters.
“Nothing, I’m sure.” Blasko’s accent had become more pronounced. Josephine had learned early on in their relationship that the more nervous he got, the harder his English was to understand.
Still looking at the ceiling, Josephine suddenly jumped back. “What the hell! That’s a bat!”
She was pointing at Vasile, who took this as his cue to flutter down and land on Blasko’s shoulder. For his part, Blasko tried to pretend he didn’t see the animal as it shuffled in closer to his neck.
Josephine stood staring at them both, her mouth hanging open.
“His name is Vasile,” Blasko finally said.
“He… ah… has a name?” Josephine stammered.
“He is very friendly. I found him and rescued him.”
“I’m sorry, but we take in dogs and cats in this country, not… not bats.” Strangely, Josephine realized she was more stunned by the revelation that Blasko had a pet bat than by any of his other oddities.
“I took a liking to bats many years ago,” Blasko said, reaching up and scratching Vasile, who spread his wings appreciatively.
“I know you’re… a… little… I mean, a lot different than other people… but bats?” Josephine cocked her head, squinting at the animal as she tried to decide if the bat was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen or if, maybe, it was kind of… possibly… cute.
“It’s a long story.” Blasko seemed embarrassed.
“This I have to hear.”
“Do you really want me to tell you?”
He sounded almost child-like. His tone had an oddly humble quality that she’d never heard from him. It made Josephine soften her own attitude. “Yes.” And she added, “Please.”
Blasko stroked Vasile as he spoke. “I was nine years old. Of course, this was long before I was subject to my… condition. In those days, the castle was smaller and alive with my family and the villagers who lived under its protection. It was two weeks before All Saints Day and the annual celebrations of the harvest. My father and most of the men had ridden out on the Great Hunt, as they did almost every year. The hunt would last for over a week and, when they returned, they would bring venison, fowl and game. Enough to feed everyone at the festival several times over.
“But this year, after they had been gone two days, there came a great thunder up the pass. We never learned whether a traitor in our midst had informed our enemies that most of the men were gone, or if they had found out on their own. Either way, a horde of Turkish cavalry attacked the castle. All males over the age of ten were slaughtered, and most of the women were killed or raped. Even though I was younger than ten, I would have been killed anyway because of my lineage if they had found me, but a servant girl rushed me up the winding stone steps in one of the castle’s older towers. The structure was in disrepair and not used anymore. The room at the top had a wooden ceiling. By climbing up through the fireplace chimney, I was able to get into the small space between the ceiling and stone roof of the turret.
“I hid up there for weeks. The servant girl would sneak me table scraps. The roof leaked and provided me with rainwater to drink. I had food and water, but no one to talk to, no one to whom I could confide my fears. As I tried not to think about the fate of my family or the future that might await me, the only companionship I had were the bats that nested in the stone crevices of the tower. For many days I talked to the bats and, in time, they accepted me. Together, we listened for weeks as my father and his men fought to retake the castle. When they were finally victorious, I climbed down from the tower and brought with me a bat who had become especially acclimated to my presence. I knew that my new friend made my father and surviving family and friends feel uncomfortable, but knowing what I had gone through during the battle, they indulged my small… quirk.”
Vasile had climbed onto Blasko’s hand and he held the creature out slowly to Josephine.
“I hear they eat a lot of mosquitoes,” was all Josephine could think to say about the big-eared critter.
“You can pet him,” Blasko encouraged.
“Thanks,” Josephine said with an ironic edge to her voice as she screwed up her courage to pet the leather-bound creature. Finally, she extended her hand and lightly touched Vasile on his fuzzy back. He squeaked and stretched. Josephine backed away.
“I think that’s enough interaction for today,” she said. “You should know that if Grace sees that… er… him, she won’t stop screaming until you’re both out of the house.”
Blasko gave a slight bow in acknowledgment of this truth.
“Okay, put your friend down and go get dressed,” Josephine said in a small voice and headed back up the stairs. “I’ll meet you in the parlor.”
As she took her mourning dress out of the wardrobe, Josephine was hit with a sudden flood of emotion. Her father’s sickness and death came back to her in a fresh wave of unexpected pain. She had to steady herself for a moment before taking a deep breath and putting the dress on. Lately, she’d felt like she was in an emotional windstorm. I can’t let all the craziness around me get the best of me, she told herself.
By the time Josephine entered the parlor, Blasko was there wa
iting for her, dressed immaculately in a black silk suit and tie.
“Dapper as always,” she complimented him.
“Should you look… dapper for a viewing?”
“Honestly, as long as it’s not for a child, a funeral is more of a social event in Alabama.”
“Even if the person was murdered?” Blasko asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I wouldn’t know. This is my first viewing for a murder victim. But if I had to guess, I’d say there’ll be more people there sightseeing than mourning.”
“It would be the same anywhere in the world.”
Blasko held out his arm to her. They had almost reached the door when Grace abruptly appeared in the hallway.
“Ain’t this cozy,” she huffed. “You two are just gonna get yourselves in trouble. That’s what Mr. Tucker told you.” Grace seemed to have forgotten she’d learned this last bit of information by eavesdropping.
“Your concern is duly noted. Thank you,” Josephine said with more than a little sarcasm.
“Suit yourselves,” Grace said, wiping her hands of the matter.
“That woman is taking on the role of a harpy in our little Greek tragedy,” Blasko observed as they walked down the porch stairs.
“She doesn’t mean any harm. You have to realize that all of this is stressful for her too,” Josephine told him.
The door of the Erickson house was being manned by a properly solemn cousin of the family whose name escaped Josephine. He thanked them for coming and asked them to sign the guest book. Inside, the house was full, even though the viewing had started an hour ago. Many folks had stayed to talk with friends they seldom saw or had time to socialize with. Though few would have admitted it, most were titillated at being in close proximity to a crime that was being reported in papers as far away as Atlanta and New Orleans.
The first person Josephine saw was Bobby Tucker, who was dressed in an old, ill-fitting black suit. He nodded to her and gave Blasko a not-so-veiled glare.
“We should steer clear of him,” she whispered to Blasko.
“Baron,” a voice said from behind them. They both turned and saw Thomas Kelly, looking dark and brooding in a black pinstriped suit. “Josephine.”
“Mr. Kelly,” Blasko said, watching him closely for any sign that Kelly might have been aware Blasko had seen him with another woman. Heard him with another woman would be more accurate, but Blasko didn’t feel the need to split hairs.
“I told you to call me Thomas.”
“Have you seen Clarence and Amanda?” Josephine asked, trying not to make eye contact. Blasko had told her what Kelly had been doing at the warehouse. She couldn’t get the image of him cheating on his wife out of her head.
“Yes, I think they’re out back. Amanda was pretty upset.”
“Poor thing,” Josephine said. “I should go find her.”
Thomas looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself.
Josephine left Blasko with Thomas, figuring it was safe enough as they’d already gotten to know each other, and headed off in search of Amanda. She looked in the kitchen, but didn’t see anyone other than a couple of maids who looked like they’d rather be somewhere else.
As she passed the library, she could hear the faint sound of voices coming from a porch off the side of the house. She could just see two figures standing in the dark by the porch railing. Without turning on the light, Josephine crept closer to the door. When she was a few feet away, she could finally make out some of what they were saying.
Amanda and Clarence were having a heated discussion, but they were doing it in half whispers that obscured many of their words.
“I’m tired of it,” Josephine heard Clarence say.
“You’re being ridiculous. I’m not…”
“I know what… You don’t.”
Amanda’s response was equally garbled. “Nonsense… I wouldn’t… you… unnatural.”
“…dare you? I’m not… Now… move out…”
“…get through this…”
“I swear…” Clarence growled.
“…can’t stand it…”
Josephine wished she could ask them to speak up. She started to move closer when suddenly they stopped talking and turned toward the door. Josephine had to run on her toes to get out of the room quickly and quietly enough not to get caught.
She found Blasko in a corner of the parlor talking with Jerry Connelly, the mortician. She pulled him away from their deep discussion regarding the virtues of the different types of wood used in coffin construction.
“I just caught Clarence and Amanda arguing,” she told him.
“About what?”
“I couldn’t make it out very well. They both seemed equally angry. Like they were accusing each other of something.”
“Interesting. I’ve been observing the daughter, Carrie. Not very social. Connelly was telling me how difficult she’s been over the funeral arrangements. Arguing over everything and trying to talk him down on every cost.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. She’s certainly her father’s daughter. Though it’s strange that Lucy wasn’t the one to make the arrangements.”
“Connelly said that every time Lucy started to speak, Carrie would shut her down.”
They both turned to look at the pair standing by the coffin. Lucy seemed oddly animated by the tragedy, while Carrie stood straight and stiff, looking uncomfortable whenever anyone talked to her. Not once did they see her try to comfort her stepmother.
“That’s one cold fish,” Josephine said. “I’m going over to give my condolences.”
Blasko followed her.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Josephine told Carrie.
“Thank you,” Carrie replied, looking past Josephine and barely nodding at Blasko. He could hear her heart beating fast. She was clearly under emotional pressure.
“Lucy, this must be horrible for you,” Josephine said.
“It’s such a tragedy. Why? I keep asking myself, why did it happen?” Lucy looked down at her husband’s coffin, placing her hand on the lid.
“If there is anything I can do, just let me know,” Josephine said, looking at both women before walking passed the closed coffin.
For a while, Blasko and Josephine stood at the back of the room and watched the mourners and sightseers file by the coffin. Lucy stayed beside the bier and greeted the people, though Carrie had wandered off. At one point, when Amanda and Clarence walked by, all three of them seemed ill at ease. Lucy didn’t make eye contact with either of them.
There is something odd going on with this family, Josephine thought. Is it just the cliché of the disliked stepmother? Or do they suspect each other?
Blasko and Josephine were heading for the door when Evangeline Anderson walked in. Though she tried, Josephine couldn’t see any way to get to the door without passing within speaking distance of her neighbor. Sure enough, the older woman stepped directly into their path and locked eyes with Josephine.
“Terrible, isn’t it? It’s so hard to see how something like a murder could happen in our own quiet neighborhood. I never would have imagined it six months ago,” she said, looking pointedly at Blasko. “How is your allergy, by the way? It must be terrible not being able to go out during the day. If you could, you might have seen the man that murdered Mr. Erickson.”
“If you’ll excuse us, we were just leaving. I’m sure you’ll want to pay your respects to the Ericksons,” Josephine said, trying to step around Evangeline. When she did, she almost bumped into Lucy Erickson, who had suddenly appeared at her side.
“Could I talk with you alone for a minute?” Lucy asked. Josephine looked at Evangeline and Blasko. She didn’t really want to leave them alone, but she was intrigued by Lucy’s request.
“Of course,” she finally said, giving Blasko a look meant to stop him from engaging with Evangeline.
She followed Lucy out of the parlor and into the dining room. There was no one else in the room and Lucy sank down into
one of the chairs at the table.
“I hope you don’t mind me sitting down. These last few days have been very hard on me.” The woman’s natural good looks showed through, despite the grief she’d been battling since the murder.
“What can I do for you?” Josephine asked, sitting down beside her.
“Well, I appreciate what you and your friend have been trying to do. I… just… Well, I honestly don’t know what to say. I guess I’m worried about Carrie. She seems… distracted. Maybe it’s just grief or the shock of the murder.”
“You think she knows something?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I just think there is something going on that Carrie isn’t telling me. I’m truly worried about her.”
“Have you said something to the sheriff?”
“That old goat! No. I just wondered if your friend has found out anything? It would be such a relief to know who did this.”
“He’s keeping his eyes open, but right now we really don’t know anything more than anyone else. Are you worried that something might happen to Carrie? Or… well… do you think that she could be involved somehow?” Josephine was trying to be delicate.
Lucy stood up abruptly. “I don’t know what I know. There’s just this feeling of foreboding. Nonsense, really. Probably natural after someone you love is murdered in your own home. I’m sorry to bother you with it.” It was clear that Lucy didn’t want to talk anymore.
She started toward the door and Josephine followed her back into the parlor. Before they parted, Josephine touched Lucy’s arm. “If you see or hear anything that frightens you, please let me know. Any time, day or night.”
“Thank you, Josephine. You’ve always been a good neighbor,” Lucy said, her eyes resting on Carrie, who was back beside the coffin.
Josephine didn’t see Blasko in the parlor. She finally found him in the front yard, standing back to gaze at the house. He’d had to go outside to escape the persistent and odious Anderson woman. In front of them, the windows of the house glowed with a festive light that was in stark contrast to the solemn ritual taking place inside.
