by Mary Daheim
Judith studied the chairman’s erect figure. “Ex-military?”
“Yes,” Jeanne said. “Despite the German name, he was born in this country. He fought for our side.”
“So did Eisenhower,” Renie remarked.
“I should meet him,” Judith said. She abandoned Renie to the two other innkeepers, but paused at the bar to ask Barry for a Scotch-rocks.
“You got it,” Barry said with a wry smile. “You can’t get drunk if you’re not drinking,”
Jessi, who was sipping some sort of bubbly wine, shook her head. “Don’t encourage any more mayhem around here, Barry. This town is starting to make me nervous.” She nodded in Stromeyer’s direction. “He’s such a wonderful old guy, but he looks pale. Maybe he should’ve stayed home tonight after putting in so much work for the festival.”
“Could you introduce me?” Judith asked. “I’d like to thank him for everything he’s done.”
“Sure,” Jessi said. “Follow me.”
To Judith’s dismay, Ellie and Delmar Denkel had just approached Stromeyer. “Judith,” Ellie said, lifting her glass in a vague salute. “You must meet Herman Stromeyer. Delmar and I feel like he’s a dear friend.”
Judith thought Herman looked older up close. He offered her the hand that wasn’t holding an empty wineglass. “How do you do, Mrs. . . . ?”
“McMonigle,” Ellie put in hastily.
“Flynn,” Judith said firmly.
Ellie snickered. “I forgot you finally married that cop.”
Jessi volunteered to get Herman a refill, but he demurred. “I don’t want to upset my stomach after the flu. Just sparkling cider, my dear.”
Jessi took his empty glass. “Sure, Gramps. Be right back.”
Judith didn’t hide her surprise. “Jessi is your granddaughter?”
Herman offered her an engaging smile. “She is indeed. My Sadie passed away a long time ago. She’s my youngest daughter’s little girl.”
“Goodness,” Judith said, “I’m used to the city. I forget how everyone in small towns seems connected to everybody else.”
Ellie nudged Judith. “You’re drinking Scotch? How could you with all these amazing German wines?”
“I have no palate,” Judith admitted.
“Pity,” Delmar said, tapping his glass. “I’ve studied up on the differences between regional wines. This Silvania is top-notch, straight from the old country.”
“Silvaner, darling,” Ellie said, putting a hand on her husband’s back. “Oh, I realize you’re making one of your little jokes.”
Herman looked slightly pained, but attempted a smile. “It’s not easy keeping track of wines and their regions. I’m no expert, like Dietrich Wessler, but, as they say, I know what I like.” His expression brightened as Jessi reappeared with the sparkling cider. Renie wasn’t far behind.
“Jerk,” she said into Judith’s ear. “I had to listen to Jeanne Barber blah-blah about the wonders of island living. Evelyn abandoned me.”
Ignoring the comment, Judith introduced Renie to Herman. “Not another innkeeper, eh?” he said in a jovial tone.
“I’m a cousin-keeper,” Renie said meekly. “I don’t get out much.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” Ellie murmured.
Judith held her breath as her cousin’s eyes sparked. “Watch it, Mrs. Dingle,” Renie said softly. “One thing I’m keeping is my temper.”
Ellie whirled around so fast that she bumped Herman’s arm, spilling some of the cider on the parquet floor. “You’re rude!” she cried. “What did you do with your manners?”
Renie assumed an innocent air. “I gave them to you for your birthday. You never thanked me.”
Judith realized that several heads had turned in their direction. Jessi was motioning to Barry, who had come out from behind the bar. Ellie swerved toward Judith, who accidentally stepped on Barry’s foot, causing him to bump into Herman and slosh cider on the hardwood floor.
“Don’t move,” Barry said. “I’ll wipe this up and get Herman a refill.”
“Sorry,” Judith whispered to Barry, handing him her glass. “Could you top this for me?”
“Sure.” He hurried back to the bar.
“Excuse me,” Ellie said, her head held high. “Come, Delmar, we must get out of the disaster area. We, too, need refills.” She flounced off with her husband taking up the rear in his docile pet Chihuahua role.
“Chicken,” Renie said, after taking a swig of her bourbon. “The old hen’s twice my size and still is scared of me. It must be the big teeth.”
“And the big mouth,” Judith said under her breath. Glancing at Herman, she saw that his smile was ironic.
“Ellie’s soured with age,” he murmured. “She was always difficult. Spoiled, I think, by her mother to make up for her father’s alcoholism.”
Judith felt her eyes widen. “Her father drank?”
“I’m afraid so,” Herman said, frowning. “Being Dietrich Wessler’s elder son was a burden for Josef. The younger one, Franz, had it easier and later moved away. Josef’s death was untimely in the sense that he was drunk when he fell off the balcony at Hanover Haus. He died immediately of his injuries.” He smiled in his ironic manner. “Ellie’s mother was more relieved than grief-stricken. Tilde was known around town as the Merry Widow.”
“I didn’t know Ellie very well until now,” Judith said, still feeling confused about the Wessler family tree. “We’ve had no chance to talk about backgrounds. Was Dietrich a harsh father or merely demanding?”
“He wasn’t cruel,” Herman replied after a pause, “but let’s say he held great expectations, particularly for Josef as his firstborn.”
Barry had returned to wipe up the floor. “Refills on the way with Jessi,” he said. “I had to give the Denkels another hit on their drinks first. Mrs. Denkel doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“She never has,” Herman said softly.
Barry finished his task and rushed away.
“Sad, really,” Judith said. “Ellie’s upbringing, I mean. Speaking of tragedies, something just occurred to me. If the cemetery is relatively new, why are Mr. Wessler’s wife and baby buried there? They died over fifty years ago.”
Herman’s mouth twisted. “The cemetery was created on land owned by Dietrich. Frau Wessler and her child were buried there in the forest. It was a logical place to put those who passed on later.”
“That makes sense,” Judith said. “How did they drown?”
Herman’s shrewd blue eyes regarded her with something akin to amusement. “Are you writing a history of our little town?”
“I am,” Renie said, raising her hand. “I’m a graphic designer. I thought I’d tell the story in ’toons.”
“Why not?” Herman responded. “It’s had its comic opera aspects.”
He paused to accept the glass Jessi offered him. “Thanks, Jess. Mrs. Jones tells me she plans to write a book about us. Or draw one.” He raised his glass and took a deep sip.
“Really?” Jessi said, turning to Renie. “Are you an artist?”
“Sort of,” Renie replied. “I do graphics.”
Judith couldn’t resist putting another question to Herman. “My cousin and I happened to see the marker for a Henry Rupert Hellman. I understand he was a suicide, but why is his marker there?”
Herman looked askance. “That’s a story in itself, but nobody knows how much is true and how much is rumor. He’d come here from Germany around 1950. I’ve only been in Little Bavaria since 1982. Hank, as he was called, had a wife and a son, but they kept to themselves. Mrs. Hellman was in poor health and died young. Some people—not all our residents back then were as broad-minded as they are now—thought he felt awkward being Jewish. He couldn’t openly practice his religion because there was no temple or synagogue.” Herman shook his head. “Then one day he hanged
himself from a lamppost near the town hall. Very sad.”
“What about his family?” Judith asked.
“The son had moved away. I never knew them.”
“No, not if you didn’t come here . . .” Judith stopped as Herman grasped his throat, dropped the glass, and reached out to Judith. Unable to support his weight, she stumbled backward into Jessi, who let out a little scream before trying to help with the stricken man.
“Gramps!” Jessi cried. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t respond. Somehow, the three women eased him onto the floor. It wasn’t easy, given his size and the broken glass. Barry was running toward them. So were several other guests, including the Beaulieus and Evelyn Choo, who were coming from the bar behind Barry.
Evelyn had her cell out. “I’ll call 911,” she said, a ship of calm in a sea of shock. She stepped out of the way while Judith frantically tried to loosen Herman’s tie and unbutton his white shirt. The old man was turning purple, still fighting for breath. Barry was trying to keep more gawkers from crowding around them.
“Please!” he shouted. “Step back. Make way for the EMTs.”
Hands shaking, Judith tried to remember what to do from her Red Cross classes. But Herman had passed out. Or . . . she didn’t want to think of the alternative. Putting a hand on his chest, she realized he was still breathing, if in a shallow, labored manner. Her own head felt strange. The headache must be coming back . . . it had been a long time since she’d taken the Excedrin . . . hours and hours and . . .
The last thing she heard was Ellie saying in her strident voice, “Now see what you’ve done, Judith. You’ve killed Herman Stromeyer.”
Judith came to in a room that was so bright it almost blinded her. She blinked several times before realizing that she was looking up into the lights of a hospital corridor.
“It’s okay,” Renie said. “You passed out. You’re exhausted.”
“Where’s Herman?” Judith asked, making a vain effort to sit up.
“They’re working on him,” Renie said, gesturing down the hall.
Judith felt a sense of relief wash over her. “Was it a stroke?”
“I don’t know. The medics arrived just after you fainted. They only had room for Herman, so Duomo put you in the paddy wagon. I rode along with you.”
“What?” Judith tried to lift her head, but couldn’t quite manage it. “How long was I out?”
“Seven, eight minutes. The hospital’s just past the high school. It took less than five minutes for the EMTs to do their thing.”
“Good grief.” Judith flung an arm over her eyes. “That light is killing me. Have you got some Excedrin?”
“Yes,” Renie replied. “I also brought your purse. Have you got something in it that’s stronger than the Excedrin we both carry because we’re old and enfeebled? I think I’ll take a couple just for the hell of it.”
“Hand me my purse and get some water,” Judith said. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“No, I don’t have to.” Renie gave the purse to Judith. “I feel fine.”
“I mean, have you talked . . . skip it.” Judith didn’t know whether to laugh or hit Renie. She did neither, saving her energy to find her pills.
After her cousin went off to find some water, Judith located her pills and studied her surroundings. The hallway was lined with doors leading to what might have been exam rooms. She couldn’t see any personnel, so assumed the staff was working elsewhere.
Renie returned with a paper cup of water. “Doc Frolander and an intern are the only ones on duty. Doc is tending to Herman. I overheard the term ‘gastric lavage,’ so they’re pumping his stomach.”
Judith groaned. “That indicates they think he was poisoned.”
Renie nodded. “I wondered. Think it was the wine or the cider?”
“I don’t know,” Judith said, after swallowing the pills. “Duomo noted that Wessler may not have died immediately after consuming whatever killed him. Did you see food at the party tonight?”
Renie shook her head. “If I had, I’d have eaten it. I’m hungry.”
“Who else came here with Herman?”
“Jessi,” Renie said, peeking around the nearby corner that led to another hallway. “In fact, here she comes now with Fat Matt and a thin nurse. I thought I heard voices.”
The police chief took one look at Judith and chuckled wryly. “Don’t tell me you got poisoned, too.”
That hadn’t occurred to Judith. “I don’t think so. I’m just really tired. I’m not used to walking so much on pavement.”
“Tell me about it,” Duomo said. “Sure glad I don’t do a beat anymore. ‘Flatfoot’ is right. Hey, the nurse wants to check you out.”
The chief, Renie, and Jessi moved away. The nurse began taking Judith’s vitals. She spoke only when she’d finished. “Stomach pains?”
“No. Just light-headed when I collapsed.”
“No other complaints?”
“No.”
“Your pulse is fine, no fever, but your blood pressure is elevated.”
“It does that sometimes,” Judith replied.
“Do you take medication for it?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I recommend that you stay here for at least half an hour. If you want to see a doctor, you may have to wait longer. We just got word of a bad accident up at the summit.”
“I don’t think I need to bother anyone else,” Judith said. “Thanks.”
The nurse moved swiftly around the corner and disappeared. Judith tried to sit up, but required a hand from Renie. Jessi looked pale and her eyes were red-rimmed.
“How,” she asked of no one in particular, “could Gramps get poisoned? Why would that happen to him?”
“Could be food poisoning,” the chief said. “Did he eat before the shindig?”
“I don’t know,” Jessi said. “I worked until closing the shop. I’d brought my good clothes with me to save time so I’d be ready when Barry came to get me. He had to help set up the bar at a quarter to seven.”
“Right,” Duomo said absently. “I should’ve stopped in. I’ve missed a lot of this year’s functions. Damned job. Have to tend to business to impress the tourists. Oh, well. See you all later.” He started toward what Judith thought must be the exit.
“Hey,” she called in a feeble voice, “don’t you want to question us?”
“Huh?” Fat Matt turned around. “Not now. You’re sick. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” He disappeared around the corner.
Judith grappled with the thin blanket that covered her. Jessi was nowhere in sight. Apparently, she had gone off to check on her grandfather. “I can’t lie here like a lump,” Judith said. “How do we get back to Hanover Haus? I sure can’t walk.”
“You could crawl,” Renie suggested.
Judith didn’t bother to comment. She started to sit up, but found the effort too draining. “I’m really worn out,” she said in frustration.
“Maybe I can steal an ambulance,” Renie said.
“Forget it. They’re peeling people off the road up at the summit.”
Renie scanned the hallway. “There must be something I can steal. Be right back.” She went off and out of sight.
Judith finally managed to raise her head enough to take the Excedrin. A moment later, Barry came around the corner.
“How are you doing?” he asked. “I followed Jessi here in Mom’s car. No word yet on her granddad.”
“How old is he?” Judith asked.
“Eighty-eight,” Barry replied. “He’s a good guy. Jessi’s folks retired to Arizona last year. Her dad likes to golf.”
“Nice,” Judith murmured, before taking in what Barry had said previously. “You have your car here?”
“Yes.” Barry smiled. “You want a ride back to your inn?”
“
You should stay with Jessi, but . . .” She stopped, hearing a rattling noise nearby. A moment later, Renie showed up, pushing a hospital bed.
“Hey, coz,” she called, “get Barry to hoist you onto this. I can wheel you back to Hanover Haus.”
Barry burst out laughing. Judith shook her head. “We have transport. Barry has a car.”
Renie evinced surprise. “A car? What a novel idea!”
Five minutes later, Judith was in the passenger seat of the Ford Escort. “It’s Mom’s car,” he explained. “She didn’t need it tonight.”
“I thought it looked familiar,” Renie said from the backseat. “We got it impounded this afternoon. Good thing I got rid of the deer.”
“The deer?” Barry asked from behind the wheel. “What deer?”
Renie explained about the stuffed buck. Judith told Barry why the car had gotten impounded.
“Mom didn’t tell me you’d borrowed the Escort,” he said as they drove down the busy main street. Vehicle and foot traffic had already turned the snow to slush. “Guess she was too excited about her date.”
“Your mother has a date?” Judith said. “How nice.”
Barry nodded. “Some people might think it’s too soon after Dad died, but Mom needs somebody to lean on. I can’t stick around here forever. She seems independent and tough, but underneath . . . well, it’s kind of a facade. Besides, this guy is really one cool dude.”
“Dare I ask who?”
“Sure,” Barry said, pulling up to the entrance of Hanover Haus. “He’s a bigwig forest ranger, name of Rick Ruggiero.”
Judith and Renie didn’t let on they knew Ruggiero. Given Renie’s fractious encounter and Judith’s rejected pleas about Mike, their history with the ranger didn’t add anything positive to their own résumés. Nor was there much opportunity to discuss Suzie’s date. Judith could walk through the small lobby, though she had to lean on Barry to steady her. The woman behind the desk glared at the trio and mouthed the word drunk. Renie mouthed a couple of unprintable words in return and moved on to help Judith take the stairs one at a time.
Inside their room, Judith thanked Barry profusely. Before he left, she begged him to let her know what had happened with Herman Stromeyer. Barry promised he would and departed.
