by Diane Morlan
I dug my cell phone from my purse. “I’ll call the police.”
“Oh, good Lord, no, don’t do that. Just give me a ride home and I’ll call Randy to come fix it for me.”
Randy Vetter and Bernie had been high school sweethearts. They had argued about everything and broke up at least once a week. When Bernie announced she'd been accepted and would be leaving in three weeks for the convent of the Sisters of St. Ann, Randy began his campaign. He tried to convince her parents to dissuade her from leaving, but they were supporting her. He even tried to get me to come up from Illinois to “talk some sense into her.” But Bernie wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her vocation and her deep belief that God had called her to His service.
Randy’s heartbreak didn’t last long. Within a year he was married to a girl he met at community college. Lisa is an RN and works in the Emergency Room at Hermann Hospital.
Through all of this, Randy and Bernie have stayed friends. She’s the Godmother to his oldest daughter and lavishes her with gifts, mostly hand made since Bernie’s income is limited. Randy helps Bernie by keeping her car running.
Last fall the parishioners bought Bernie the little Aveo to celebrate her twentieth anniversary of taking her final vows. So, she hadn’t needed Randy’s expertise lately. I was sure he’d be glad to help her.
“Bernie, you really should report this.”
“No, and that’s final.” She marched off toward my car. I took the hint. This subject was closed.
“Arguing with you is like pushing a boulder. I know something serious happened between you and this Wes guy. Why won’t you tell me what’s going on? I just want to help.”
“Jennifer, I know you mean well, but I can’t break a confidence. You just don’t need to know about this. I’ll handle it.”
“Okay. But remember I’m here if you need me.”
“I know and I appreciate it, Jennifer.”
When St. Theresa’s church converted the convent into a parish community center five years ago, Bernie and the three other nuns rented apartments near the church. Now Bernie had the distinction of being the only working nun left in town. A retired nun was living in an assisted living high-rise across town. The other two moved to a convent in South St. Paul.
I dropped Bernie at her apartment on Sycamore Street. I should’ve gone back to Primo Gusto to roast more coffee, but I was just too tired. I decided to get up early in the morning and roast the coffee I needed before leaving for the Fest Grounds. I convinced myself it would be even fresher that way.
I drove down German Street toward my new townhouse; this street meanders through Hermann. Tourists always say the first thing they notice is how tidy the town is. Like towns in Germany, the lawns are well groomed. There is no trash in the yards, there’s no litter at the curbs.
When people walk around the business district, which is still an old-fashioned “downtown,” German folk music plays through speakers on the lampposts.
German Street in this part of town is the center of our historical district. In an area of about three square blocks, the houses here were built in the 1890’s. Big old beautiful Victorian homes, Italianate mansions and lovely Queen Anne houses, like the one on the corner. I’d love to see what the inside of that house looked like. It was painted a creamy yellow. The white trim looked like the crocheted doilies in Trudy’s booth. A turret rose up one side and a wrap-around porch invited you to sit and rest awhile. The Hermann Historical Society put on a History Walk each fall as part of the Oktoberfest celebration. I’d have to see if this year’s tour included this mansion so I could see the inside.
A few blocks further down, I came to Minnesota Street. As soon as I turned the corner, I hit the button on the remote to open the garage door. It shuddered and whined but it slowly screeched open. I pulled up the short driveway and into the garage of my townhouse.
I was still thinking about getting a bigger car, but I didn’t want an SUV--too big and not fuel-efficient. I’d have to do some checking and see what would fit my needs. The door creaked and shook but finally closed. I needed to call someone to fix that.
I entered my house through the garage into the kitchen. I always came in this way. A kitchen is the easiest room to furnish. Stick in a table, chairs, toaster, and coffee pot, and it’s finished. Finished but not decorated to show some of the character of the person who lived here. My kitchen was so stark the only decoration was a magnet for The Pizza Parlor in Park Rapids, Minnesota, two hundred miles north of Hermann.
It’s not much different from the other rooms. When I moved in five months ago, I lined up boxes along the outside wall of my living room, thinking I’d empty them and get settled in later. I hadn’t opened the boxes or done anything to make it more comfortable and lived-in.
The hardwood floors were bare, not a rug in sight. When the stiff, orange sofa was delivered from a second hand shop, I just pushed it up against the inside wall. It didn’t matter that it was ugly and uncomfortable. I didn’t entertain and seldom even had visitors.
My only extravagances were a black leather chair, with a matching ottoman, which sat in front of my new 42” high definition television.
Since the townhouse came with mini-blinds on the windows, I hadn’t bothered to put up any curtains. I bought only the bare necessities. I kept telling myself I wanted to wait until I knew how Edwin and I would be dividing our assets before spending money on new furniture.
But there was more to it than assets and money. What I would have loved is to move into that beautiful Queen Anne mansion I had seen tonight. Of course, that was ridiculous. What would one person do in such a big house? But it fit my style. One of the things I had brought with me from my house was an antique roll-top desk that I had retro fitted for my computer. It was clearly mine, so Edwin didn’t fight me for it. And he was no fan of antiques. He thought they were just old junk.
But more than furniture and this boring house, I still couldn’t believe my husband had left me for another woman—a younger, beautiful woman.
Only a few months ago I thought my marriage was as good as anyone else’s was, until the day Edwin dropped the bomb.
The sun had been shining through my kitchen window making the sun catcher glitter and sparkle. I picked up the spatula and flipped over a pancake in the frying pan. Edwin had liked me to cook for him, although it had been difficult with my business growing so fast. Still, I had tried to make breakfast for him most mornings.
“How do you want your eggs?” I called up the stairs to him.
“Listen, Jennie, we need to talk.” Edwin came bounding down the stairs, buttoning his cuffs. He walked into the kitchen and stood by the table. Picking up a glass of orange juice, he downed it in a couple gulps.
“Don’t call me Jennie,” I said automatically for the thousandth time. We’d been married for twenty-four years. You’d think he’d know by now. When I was a kid, my classmates had teased me by calling me “Jennie Penny” in a singsong voice. Besides, I wanted to talk to him about him about an offer I had received for my business but he wouldn’t let me talk.
“Jennifer, don’t interrupt me. I have something important to say. I know this is going to be difficult for you, but now that Beth is married and Nick has moved to Chicago, I need my freedom.”
I shook my head and wiped my hands on a dishcloth. “What are you talking about? Do you want to make Nick’s room into a den?”
“No, I don’t want to move furniture. Jennifer, I want a divorce. It’s time for me to have a life of my own. I need to find out who I am.”
I thought I was going to throw up. My feelings poured out of my mouth. “What? I worked every day of this marriage, too. After I put you through college, I raised the kids while you belonged to every club in town and spent your evenings at meetings. I’m the one who went to PTA, piano recitals, and scout meetings. And now you want to leave?” I had never talked to Edwin like this in my life. “You want find out who you are? You’re a louse, that’s who you are.”
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Then it hit me. How stupid I had been. “Who is she?”
“Now, Jennie, don’t be that way.”
“Don’t you ‘Now, Jennie’ me, you creep. I know you. This didn’t just come to you in a dream. Besides, you could never take care of yourself. Who would make your breakfast?”
“Okay. Enough. I’m moving out. My lawyer will contact your lawyer. I’m using Dyson & Dyson. You should call Erickson, Lowe and Jones. They’d be a good firm for you.” He picked up an overnight bag, which I hadn’t notice him bringing down the stairs and walked out the front door.
I followed him, still not believing what was happening. “Don’t you tell me who my lawyer should be. In fact, don’t you ever tell me anything again. From now on, I’ll be doing as I damn please, just like you’ve always done.”
“Fine. My lawyer is setting up a little allowance for you. Don’t run up a lot of charges, though. Also, you had better start looking for a real job. I don’t plan to get stuck with the bills from your coffee hobby after I’m gone. And you’d better start looking for a place to live. I’m putting the house on the market today.” Edwin tossed his bag into his silver Mazda Miata. That flashy new car should’ve been a tip-off. I sure could be dense at times.
I had seldom stood up to Edwin. But he’d never left me before, either. There was more to it than that. Why hadn’t I cried, I thought? I had been pissed but not sad or heartbroken.
Since we moved to Hermann, I felt comfortable in my hometown, while Edwin believed he’d been banished to the boondocks. That must be where I got the gumption to stand up to him. And his feelings must be the reason he felt the need to cheat on me. As I sat there trying to take it all in, a sense of relief had washed over me. Now sadness clutched my heart as I remembered our first years together when we were young and in love.
I knew I needed to get over the feelings of abandonment and get on with my life. Okay, so Edwin never qualified for the perfect husband award. An overbearing control freak, he made all the decisions for the family. I seldom question his decisions. He had often let me know my opinion didn’t matter to him.
“I earn the money to support this family, Jennie. You just stay home with the kids. You don’t have any idea of what happens in the real world.”
He was a good father. The kids and I never went without anything. But his word was law and he’d make a proclamation then slap his hand on the table to stress the point.
I sat down, put my feet up, and thought about my marriage. I hadn’t thought of it as being much different from anyone else’s marriage. Edwin acted much like my father, except Edwin didn’t go to work drunk and get fired. When the shock of his leaving wore off, I took a good look at my life and decided life was much easier without him. But I also felt as if somehow I had failed. And sometimes I got so lonely.
Shaking off these contradictory feelings, I made myself a promise to go shopping soon. After Edwin and I met with the divorce mediator next week, I’d decorate this place so it would be homier. Or maybe I wouldn’t renew my lease. I could go out and find a house to fit my personality. Not this sterile little box.
This place was nice, well maintained, and had absolutely no character. The house Edwin and I had purchased here in Hermann was new but inside it had the feel of a farm house. Big rooms, lots of wood and windows. I had decorated all the rooms in a traditional style and, except for the formal living room which we never used, it felt homey and comfortable. I mostly missed my bathroom. The master bedroom had an amazing bathroom. Two sinks, a walk-in shower surrounded in glass with four shower heads and a deep two person Jacuzzi tub. I could have lived in there.
Feeling lonely, I made a quick call to my friend, Megan. Her phone rang and finally went to voice mail. I hung up. She was probably talking to her current boyfriend. I sent a text message to her cell phone for her to call me when she got a chance.
After showering off the fest dust, I donned my Sponge Bob sleep shirt and curled up with my current book, a Joanne Fluke mystery.
Trying to forget Bernie’s problems and feeling sorry for myself I ate a chocolate chip cookie I had bought at the Fest. I read the same page twice without comprehending anything. I couldn’t stop worrying about Bernie. Sure she was tough; she stood up for people all the time. But, she practically ran off tonight. It was so unlike her. There was more going on than she was willing to tell me. I worried for her safety.
I vowed to call her tomorrow and grill her about this Wes guy. I’d also ask Trudy if she could tell me anything she knew about him. At least I could find out his last name. Maybe I’d have a little talk with him, too.
I clicked off the television, which I wasn’t watching anyway and was about to go to bed when the phone rang. Thinking it must be Megan, I picked up the receiver and said, “Hi, I’m sure glad you called.”
“Well, I’m glad, you’re glad,” answered a woman’s voice that wasn’t Megan.
“Who is this?” I asked.
Laughing the lady answered, “It’s Laura from the Biergarten Restaurant in Mankato.”
“I’m so sorry, Laura. I thought you were my neighbor. I’ve been waiting for her to return my call.”
“That’s okay, Jennifer. I’m sorry to call so late, but I have a favor to ask of you.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I have a favor to ask of you. I saw this fantastic German beer stein in Hermann a couple weeks ago. And like an idiot, I didn’t buy it. I’ve been thinking about it ever since and I just have to have it! I know I saw it in Hermann but I can’t remember where. Can you help me?’
“I’m sure I can, Laura,” I said, thinking about how much extra work this might entail. “What does it look like?”
“It’s the coolest stein I’ve ever seen! It’s a Coca-Cola stein with a scene from an old-fashioned ice cream soda fountain on it. It looks like an old German beer stein. If I email you a picture could you look for it for me?”
“Well, I guess I can try,” I said without much enthusiasm.”
“Listen, Jennifer, I know this is an imposition on you. If you can do this for my I’d love to have you and a friend come down here for a Surf and Turf dinner for two.”
That perked me up. I love lobster. “Surf and turf doesn’t sound very German to me. When did you put that on your menu?”
“A few months ago. We’re the best restaurant in Worthington and people like to come here for special occasions. So, we added a few special items to the menu. Do you like Steak and lobster?”
“You betcha. What kind of turf?”
“Only the best Filet Mignon. Does that motivate you?
“Absolutely! I’d be glad to give it a try, Laura.” Now that’s the kind of motivation I liked. “Send me the picture and description and I’ll see what I can do. Also, can you list the places you went to on the day you saw it? That will give me some place to start looking.”
“I’ll email you the details right away. I have to think about where I was. Seems to me I was all over town.”
“Well, do your best, Laura and I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thanks, Jennifer, I really appreciate this.”
Laura’s email came through in just a few minutes. I printed it out along with the picture she had attached. Laura was one of my best customers. Her German restaurant was upscale and people drove from all over southern Minnesota to dine there.
I looked at the picture of the stein. It was lovely. I could understand why she wanted to add it to her collection. She had over a hundred mugs and steins displayed in her restaurant.
The list she sent me of the places she went to the day she saw the stein wasn’t too long. I went online to the Hermann Chamber of Commerce site to find the addresses of the places Laura said she had visited the day she saw the stein. I looked at the list Laura had sent me. Zeller’s Antiques topped the list. There was a second-hand shop downtown, Oma’s Attic. Also, Bavarian Haus, Glessener’s German Store, and Messer’s Coins to Cups. List in hand, I was ready to begin my search.<
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Somehow, I’d find time tomorrow to start looking for this interesting stein. Maybe I could get Bernie to come with me. I might be able to find out what was bothering her. Dragging myself out of my easy chair, I shuffled off to bed. Megan hadn’t called back and I wasn’t going to wait up for her to get home. Lord only knew when that might be. My thoughts turned to a steak and lobster dinner and I fell into a deep sleep.
6
Friday
“Jennifer!” Jacobs’ deep voice brought me back to the fest grounds and the shocking event of finding a dead body this morning.
“Was Sister Bernadine’s car here when you got back this morning?”
I had to admit it wasn’t. “Randy is our mechanic and friend. Sister Bernadine must have called him to come out and air up her tires.”
Jacobs took down Randy’s name and phone number in his little notebook.
He looked down the gravel drive running through the fairgrounds and watched a blue van approach. It pulled up behind Jacobs’ car. A curvaceous young woman in tight jeans and a blue shirt with the State of Minnesota emblem over the pocket jumped out of the van and approached Detective Decker. Over her long fingers, she donned a pair of latex gloves. Grabbing her long blonde hair, she pulled it back and wrapped a scrunchie around her ponytail. She gave Detective Decker a sexy smile. “Hi, Jer, Where do you want us?”
Decker waved a hand toward the building then followed her through the door. I heard him say, “It’s Jerry, not Jer.”
The coroner came out, and arrogantly strode towards his car. All he had to do was pronounce the man dead. I could’ve done that an hour ago.
I waved to Bernie when I saw her crossing the road near the grandstand, just down from the Home Arts building.
Before I could say anything, Detective Decker walked out of the Home Arts building and made a beeline toward us. “Sister Bernadine?”
