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THE MAN WHO VANISHED
GEMINI SISTER SLEUTHS (BOOK #1)
AMORETTE ANDERSON
Copyright © 2022 by Amorette Anderson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.
 CONTENTS

The paranormal becomes normal…

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26

Sneak Peek: Body between the Stacks

Dear Reader
THE PARANORMAL BECOMES
NORMAL…
“At Stage Turquoise, the mystical becomes the mundane and the
paranormal becomes normal.

Harmony paves Turquoise’s path; its thinking being both holistic and
intuitive, working alongside co-operative actions.

Turquoise realizes that consciousness is central to humanities’

problems.

— Stage Turquoise- Spiral Dynamics, Alex Hickman

CHAPTER
ONE

MAGINTY GEMINI ASTER took one last look into the back of her
van, making sure that all the containers were positioned correctly on
the racks. The Colorado mountain roads she would travel on today’s
delivery route would be bumpy and curvy as ever, and she didn’t
want any mishaps.
Satisfied, she swung the doors closed with a heavy clunk.
Spring had arrived, finally, even in the high alpines, and the last
of the winter’s massive snow banks were now reduced to crusty,
dirty lumps around the edges of the driveway.
Maggie was glad that she no longer had to watch for patches of
ice as she made her way to the front of the van. She’d just opened
the door when she heard a voice behind her.
“Yoohoo! Maggie dear!”
She turned to see her grandmother, Celeste Aster, skirt a puddle
of snowmelt as she crossed the driveway. For ninety-six she still
walked well, though slowly. She wore a loose-fitting turquoise mumu
that flattered her plump figure and showed a glimpse of the brightly
colored tattoos that cascaded down each arm: flowers, birds,
butterflies, and fairies. Her white hair, cut just below her chin and
with bangs straight across her forehead, had streaks of purple, blue,
and green that reminded Maggie of a peacock’s feathers.
One of the double doors to the large house that Maggie shared
with her grandmother gaped open, and Shadow the Third, Celeste's
latest loyal Golden Retriever, galloped out into the spring sunshine
with a green tennis ball in his mouth.
 “Are you off on your muffin delivery route?” Celeste asked. She
didn’t wear makeup over her creased and crinkled skin these days,
except for thick black mascara around her blue-green eyes, which
made them appear big and cartoon-like.
“That’s right, Nana.” Maggie stooped to give her a quick hug.
“Plus an initial visit with a new client. Do you remember that
presentation I gave at The Edge Fitness Center last week?”
“I think so…”
“I got a few leads with that talk, and one woman signed up for
my program. Today I’m meeting with her to talk over her goals and
deliver her first batch of muffins.” Maggie took the ball from between
Shadow’s teeth and lobbed it across the driveway. It rolled into the
brown grass that was poking through, now that almost all of the
winter’s snow was gone. “What are you up to?”
“Actually, I’m planning a party.”
Inwardly, Maggie groaned. “Nana, you don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, yes I do. For tonight. And you’re the guest of honor. You
and your sister. The girls want to see you. It’ll be fun.”
‘The girls,’ Maggie knew, were Celeste's best friends, two women
who often visited the house and stayed late into the night.
Maggie had thought, when she accepted the basement
apartment after her divorce, that the arrangement would work out
well. She’d be able to look out for her elderly Nana and at the same
time save up for a house. Prices these days in Silver Ridge were
through the roof, and she wasn’t about to move into anything
smaller than what she’d owned with Jake. She had standards, after
all. High ones.
She’d been saving for five years now, and in that time she’d
realized that Celeste was hardly the doddering old woman she’d
expected. Rather, she was active and independent, with a startlingly
vibrant social life that included parties with ‘the girls’ upstairs about
once a week. Maggie kept sound-reducing headphones on hand for
those occasions, and she usually fell asleep well before the loud
music and laughter finally died down.
“That is so nice of you,” Maggie said, “and I’d love to see Violet
and Tess, too, but tonight won’t work. I have to start baking at three
tomorrow morning if I want to get all my muffins done, and then I
have a busy day after that.”
Shadow returned with the ball. Maggie chucked it over toward
the grass for him again. “And besides, this isn’t exactly a birthday
I’m excited about.”
“Forty is a number to be celebrated,” Celeste said. Her bright
eyes twinkled. “Drinks at six, dinner at seven, and I have homemade
blackberry sorbet for dessert. All you have to do is walk up a couple
flights of stairs. You can come up in your pajamas, for all we care.
Bring Charlotte.”
“Charlotte’s staying with her dad tonight.”
“On your birthday?”
“Really, it’s not a big deal. She has a late gymnastics practice and
the drive would have been too much.”
“This is your special day. You’re starting the second half of life,
and believe me, Maggie, this is the half that matters. It’s also the
half that’s the most fun.” She grinned. “We’re going to celebrate. I
won’t take no for an answer.”
A crow flew by, not far away. He landed on the wooden bench by
the front doors. The sides of the bench were carved into the shape
of bears, and the crow looked as if he was the top of a totem pole
as he perched on one of the bear’s heads and preened his feathers.
You’d better go, Maggie. You can’t say no to your grandmother.
The thought floated through Maggie’s mind out of the blue. She
watched the crow clean his feathers as she thought over the
invitation. Yes… yes, I’d better go, she decided.
“Thank you, Nana.” She bent down to kiss Celeste's cheek. “This
is nice of you. I may skip out early, just to warn you. I can’t keep the
same hours that you and your friends do.”
“We’ll see about that. Invite your sister. She’s a guest of honor,
too.”
“I will. But you know Belinda, she hardly leaves her apartment
these days.”
“I know, I know. Just ask. The girls want to see both of you,
together.”
 As Maggie pulled out on the street, she checked her rearview
mirror. Celeste stood, waving. Shadow trotted up to her side and sat.
The crow finished grooming his feathers and flew up into the air. He
landed on Celeste’s shoulder.
Celeste reached up and stroked the top of his head.
Maggie blinked a few times, wondering if she was imagining
things. She checked her mirror again. Now the crow was gone and
Celeste was petting Shadow. She’s an odd lady, Maggie thought.
Always has been.
Next she mounted her phone into its holder on the dashboard
and spoke in a loud, clear voice so that her memo app would pick up
each and every word. “Add to calendar: Birthday party at Nana’s,
start time six oclock this evening. Add to reminders: Invite Belinda to
the party.”
That done, she turned her thoughts to the intake visit she was
about to make. Of all of the aspects of running her company,
Maggie’s Muffins, Maggie loved these welcome visits the most.
She believed in her product, after all, so dropping off the first
batch of muffins made her feel like a fairy godmother.
Smiling, she navigated one of the sharper corners in the road
and began to mentally recite the welcome speech she’d given
hundreds of times before. “I am so happy to bring you your first
batch of Maggie’s Meal-replacement Muffins. These are not just
muffins, mind you. This, my friend, is the start of a journey into a
healthy new lifestyle that you’re going to love…”
CHAPTER
TWO

MAGGIE OPENED the lid of the Pyrex container. “And I promise

you, Dolores, I’m going to be right here on the journey with you, for
every step along the way.”
Dolores peered in at the muffins. “I’m so excited! I’ve heard such
good things from my friends, and then that presentation you gave at
The Edge… well, I knew then and there I had to give the program a
try.” She stuck her button-like nose closer to the container. “Maggie,
they look like regular muffins.”
“That’s the amazing thing about my system. It’s based on the
idea that you don’t have to sacrifice anything in order to lose weight.
These muffins taste absolutely delicious, and I personally bake them
for all my clients, fresh, twice a week. They’re fluffy and yummy, just
like you’d expect, and you can even heat them up in the microwave
for a few seconds if you like, and add a pat of butter.”
“Really?” Dolores rubbed her hands together. “Goody! I love
butter. This is almost impossible to believe. You’re telling me I can
eat these muffins every day, with butter, and still lose weight?”
Maggie nodded. “Each one is perfectly balanced, nutritionally
speaking. I use a proprietary blend of proteins and nutrients, and
they’re high in fiber. All you have to do is replace one meal—
breakfast or lunch, that’s up to you—with a muffin. And choose one
activity per day from the list. Walking, dancing, gardening…
whatever you like, just make sure to move for at least thirty
minutes.”
“And that’s it?”
 “That’s it!” Maggie beamed. “I’m excited for you, Dolores, I really
am. You’re going to be amazed as you start to feel a new spring in
your step.”
“I really will. I have to warn you, Maggie, I’ve tried so many diets
before.”
“This isn’t a diet,” Maggie said firmly. “Diets are based on the
idea of lack. My program focuses on abundance: fresh, tasty muffins
that are convenient and nutritious, delivered right to your door.
You’re going to feel great. This is going to be fun. Ready to hop on
that scale?”
Later, as Dolores showed Maggie to the door, she gushed about
the good reviews of Maggie’s Muffins that she’d picked up from
friends and neighbors. “...and then there’s Yolanda, who works at
the garden center. She said your muffins helped her get back into
shape after baby number three.”
“Yolanda’s a doll!”
“Oh, she sure is. A real sweetheart And Patricia from my book
club; she said her visits with you were the bright spot of her week.”
Dolores opened the door. “Now, I know you can’t stay forever
because you have other stops to make, so I won’t talk your ear off.
But before you go, I have one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That sister of yours… Belinda, is that her name?”
“My twin sister, yes. Belinda.”
“I heard from Patricia that she’s good at solving puzzles…
including figuring out crimes. She helps the police, or something like
that?”
Maggie nodded. “She helped the authorities catch the guy who
robbed the Silver Ridge Bank last year.”
“Is she a private eye, then?”
“No, nothing official like that. She just has a knack for analyzing
facts and seeing big-picture patterns. She noticed some little odd
thing about the robbery case in one of the articles that the
newspaper printed, and then she ended up doing a bunch of follow-
up research which led her right to the perp. After she figured out
who the bank robber was, she ended up taking on another client,
too… a woman who wanted to track down her birth mother. Belinda
found the mother’s address and phone number within a day.”
“She must be good.”
“She’s sharp, I’ll give her that. Solving puzzles comes naturally to
her.” Maggie shrugged. “It’s all over my head, to be honest.”
“Well, I may have a friend in need of her services. Does she have
a website?”
“No, and actually, she’s a little bit eccentric about
communication… She's a very private person. I help her out, though,
and I’d be happy to set up a time for her to meet with your friend.”
“That would be lovely.”
Maggie readied her cellphone and then typed in the contact
information for Sofia Ortiz that Dolores recited. “The name rings a
bell,” she said once she’d stored the number and added yet another
reminder to her phone.
“Yes, I’m sure you heard it on the news a few months back,
when her daughter was murdered.”
“That’s right…”
“Poor Sofia. She lives near my daughter, over in Kaye Peak. I
bumped into her when I was out on a walk and she was so
distraught, sobbing right there near the neighborhood mailboxes. I
got to talking with her and she told me the whole troubling story;
how she’s not satisfied with the police’s take on the murder, and
she’s at her wits’ end. Patricia had just told me about your sister’s
line of work a few weeks before, and it popped right to mind as I
patted Sofia’s back. I don’t know if there’s anything Belinda can do
for her, but the poor woman stopped crying when I mentioned it and
seemed very hopeful and excited about the idea, so it’s worth a try.”
“Absolutely. We’ll see what we can do.”
“Perfect.”
“Enjoy your muffins, Dolores! Call me if you have any questions.
I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Hopefully I’ll be looking trimmer already!”
Maggie laughed along with the happy Dolores, and then waved
goodbye. She hustled to her van, already calculating the shortest
route to her next delivery destination.
CHAPTER
THREE

BELINDA ADJUSTED her wire rimmed glasses and stared across

the coffee table at her twin. Maggie bristled with energy, from her
bright orange sneakers to the top of her head of long, shiny, jet-
black hair.
Belinda had no idea how Maggie kept up the pace she did, up at
three o’clock in the morning and then running around all day.
Sometimes, Belinda felt tired just looking at her identical twin.
“Maybe. I’ll think about it,” she said.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “I know that means ‘no.’ Come on… it’s
just a meeting with Sofia. I’ll be there, too. We’ll get her side of the
story, and see if there might be something we can do to help. You
need to get out of the house, Belinda. You’re turning into a recluse.”
“I go to the library.”
“Which is right next door. And then you come back here and hole
up for hours. When was the last time you went to the grocery
store?”
Belinda hoped that her sister would not check the fridge, which
was nearly bare. “I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“Your physics problems?”
“Quantum gravity, Maggie. It’s a fascinating subject.”
Maggie sighed, propped her feet up against the table’s edge. She
wore tight capri pants that stopped beneath her knee, exposing
glistening, muscular calves. Unlike her sporty sis, Belinda had never
taken to exercising.
 “You’ve been obsessing over it, though,” Maggie said. “Just like
you did with that math problem a while back… remember, when you
nearly collapsed because you ‘forgot’ to eat or sleep? It’s not
healthy. You need to step away from your physics stuff, at least for a
little while. It’ll be a good break for you. Come on… just meet with
Sofia. I’ll set it up for ten tomorrow morning at the coffee shop. It’ll
be a nice outing for us.”
“No.”
Maggie’s eyes took on a mischievous glimmer. “Fine. It’s probably
for the best. I mean, I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to help her
anyway. I did a Google search on the murder case and it seems that
the police have a guy pegged, but he’s disappeared. If the police
haven’t tracked him down yet, then I doubt you can.”
“That’s if it’s even the right guy.”
“You don’t think it is?”
Belinda recalled several of the newspaper articles about the
Renata Ortiz murder case, which she’d read back when it was a hot
topic for the community. “They think a man named Hans Wilheim
shot Renata in her home. They found his gun on the scene. He and
Renata had a history together; they’d been engaged at one point.
They tried to bring him in for questioning, but didn’t have success
with that. He’s been missing ever since the night Renata was shot.”
“Sounds like he’s the guy, and it’s just a matter of finding him,
now.”
“I don’t think so.” Belinda sat forward. “Actually, I’ll do it. I’ll meet
with Sofia Ortiz. The police are looking in entirely the wrong
direction.”
Maggie gathered her purse. “Great. So, tomorrow, ten o’clock. I’ll
pick you up at quarter to. And one more thing—Nana wants you to
come over for a small birthday party tonight.”
Belinda frowned.
“I know, I know,” Maggie flipped her hair over her shoulder and
then fished in her purse for her keys. “I don’t really want to go,
either. Turning forty sucks. I’d rather just forget that today was our
birthday altogether. But Nana insisted, and she wants you there.”
 Belinda wanted badly to say no. A physicist from Italy whom
she’d been corresponding with had just emailed a soon-to-be
published paper on the relativity of time. She’d planned on reading it
late into the night, testing some of the more complex equations as
she read.
She sipped her coffee while formulating an excuse.
A crow landed on the window ledge and looked in. Belinda had
seen this crow often, lately, and figured this was due to the warm
spring weather.
As she watched the crow a thought flitted through her mind.
You’d better go to the party, Belinda. Your grandmother went to the
trouble of planning it and it would be rude to say no.
Belinda wondered what would be served for dinner. She had no
doubt it would be better than the frozen TV meals she’d been
heating up each night for supper. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“You promise? You’re not going to beg out of it with some flimsy
excuse at the last minute?”
“I’ll be there.”
Maggie nodded. “Good. Thanks.”
“I just hope she doesn’t make too much of a big deal over us.”
“Oh, she’s going to make a fuss alright. I could see it in her
eyes.”
When the apartment door closed behind Maggie, Belinda pushed
herself off the couch, which was indented on the side where she
always sat. In the kitchen, she refilled her coffee cup. It was now
three in the afternoon, but she often drank the stuff well past
sundown.
As usual, Maggie had left her a container stuffed with the
protein-and-fiber-filled muffins that she’d become famous for, at
least here in Silver Ridge and the surrounding towns. Belinda had
forgotten to eat lunch, so she plucked one from the batch and
carried it with her back to the couch.
She eyed the stack of books on her coffee table, trying to
remember which one she’d tucked the physics paper into. When she
found it folded between the pages of a thick book on spherical
geometry, she smiled. With a sense of excitement she smoothed the
pages flat and then started to read.
CHAPTER
FOUR

AFTER LEAVING BELINDA’S APARTMENT, Maggie made the

thirty-minute drive to the nearby town of Snow Crest, and parked on
Main Street in front of her ex-husband’s restaurant, Jake’s Place. For
the next while she sat in her van making phone calls and answering
emails. She also checked her website's payment page, which had
malfunctioned the day before. To her dismay, it still looked like it was
on the fritz, so she fired off a help ticket. Once all that was ticked off
her massive to-do list, she headed for the double doors and
descended the wide staircase that led to the bar, dining area, and
arcade.
As usual the place was packed. On afternoons like this one it was
a popular hangout spot for everyone from local working-class folks,
to tourists, to students—including Charlotte, Maggie’s twelve-year-
old daughter.
The arcade was dimly lit, with colorful purple, pink and green
carpeting in a swirling pattern that made Maggie feel slightly
nauseated. She tried to forget the fact that in order to see her own
daughter she had to drive all the way to Snow Crest and submit
herself to the cacophony of pop music, buzzing and blinking video
game machines, and the smell of fried food—a fragrance so strong
that after visits she could still catch whiffs of it in her hair.
Spotting Charlotte, she waved. Charlotte said something to the
gaggle of pre-teens around her and then skipped across the room
and wrapped her skinny arms around Maggie’s waist.
 Maggie laid a hand on top of her daughter’s fine, blond hair and
savored the embrace. “Hi, Pumpkin. Good day?”
“Great day,” Charlotte said with a big smile. She wore a new
sweatshirt, printed with the logo for her gymnastics team. “I got a
B+ on my report on horses, and Mr. Fogel said that if I add an
appendix to the back he can make it an A. Only… what’s an
appendix? I thought it was, like, an organ in your body, like a
stomach.” Charlotte clapped a hand on her forehead. “Duh! I’m such
an idiot. Mom, I almost forgot… it’s your birthday! Did you get my
text?”
“I did. Thank you, honey.”
“Are you having an awesome birthday?”
“Totally awesome.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, I worked, and then visited with your Aunt Belinda. Then I
took care of a few more work things… and now, here I am with my
favorite girl in the world.”
“I got you something! Wait right here, okay?” Charlotte raced off.
Maggie watched her, a longing ache in the pit of her stomach.
When she and Jake had divorced, they agreed to split custody.
But then Jake got together with the mother of Charlotte’s best
friend, and ideas about equal time at both houses flew out the
window. Suddenly, Charlotte’s bestie was also her step-sister, and
the two became even closer.
Even Maggie had to admit that the girl, Yasmine, was good for
Charlotte. Charlotte had started to withdraw from her peers after the
divorce, and Yasmine encouraged her to reach out and engage.
Now, Maggie watched Charlotte’s bright smile as she stood amidst
her friends, burrowing through her backpack, and reminded herself
that this arrangement was good. Charlotte’s happy, and that’s what
matters.
Maggie had tried to push the issue a few times at the beginning,
and set firm limits about the nights that Charlotte spent with her. But
it was always an ordeal yanking Charlotte away from Yasmine, and
soon Maggie saw she was only adding pain to the girl’s life, which
she’d already turned upside down with the divorce.
 So, she’d changed her thinking and instead of considering her
own fierce need for time with her daughter, she tried to see things
through Charlotte's eyes. Charlotte wanted to be here, with Yasmine,
Jake, and her new step-mother, Savannah. It didn’t hurt that the
house was located on top of Jake’s popular restaurant, which
happened to be the cool hangout for middle school kids.
How could I possibly compete with all this? Maggie thought, as
she widened her scope of vision to include the room, which was a
twelve-year-old’s paradise.
Charlotte skipped back over, a pleased grin on her lips. “Here!
Open it, open it!” She foisted a small square of tissue paper toward
her mother. “I wanted to make you a card, but I was so busy with
that horse report. But I’m going to make you one soon.”
“Just seeing you is better than a hundred cards,” Maggie said.
She peeled back the tissue paper and found a handmade, beaded
bracelet.
“Do you like it?” Charlotte asked. “The beads are made out of
magazine cuttings and glue. I made them in art class.”
Maggie slipped the bracelet on. “It’s gorgeous.” She stooped to
hug her girl. “Thank you, Char.”
“I love you, Mom. Happy birthday.”
“I love you, too. Have fun at your gymnastics practice tonight. Is
Dad driving you and Yasmine?”
“Savannah is.”
Maggie carefully kept her tone light. “Great. That’s wonderful.”
She chatted with Charlotte for another ten minutes before they
parted with another hug.
When Maggie was halfway up the staircase Savannah entered.
She wore oversized designer sunglasses and a silk scarf over her
hair, and carried three shopping bags. “Oh, Maggie! Here to see your
daughter for a minute?”
Maggie tensed. The phrasing of the statement seemed so
intentionally designed to point out the short nature of her time with
Charlotte, and it hurt her where she was most vulnerable. “Yes, just
had a quick visit with her,” she said, trying her best not to show how
the words stung. “She and the gang are into that zombie game
again, apparently.”
Savannah grinned primly. “Jake and I always tell those kids, an
hour tops. Then it’s time to play outside.”
“Great.” Maggie swallowed her annoyance at hearing Savannah
speak so smugly about parenting her own daughter. “It has been so
nice out. Good for them to get some fresh air.”
“True.” Savannah pulled her glasses off. Her eyes bored into
Maggie as she said, “I heard through the grapevine that you’re going
to have dinner with your grandmother tonight.”
“That’s right….” And what’s it to you? Maggie thought, wondering
at Savannah’s intense stare.
“Has she discussed matters with you, yet?”
“I’m sorry… I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about.”
“Oh. So, she hasn’t. Well, I doubt you’ll be interested, anyway.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Savannah. My
grandmother invited me to dinner to celebrate my birthday. It’s
today. I’m forty.”
“I know that.” Savannah rolled her eyes. “All of us know that
today’s the day. We’re just not sure what you’re going to do about it.
Nevermind. We’ll find out soon enough.”
“Um…”
“Just know this,” Savannah jabbed one end of her sunglasses
toward Maggie’s face. “We’ll be watching you. There are members of
this community who know much more than Celeste Aster about what
it really takes to practice. We put up with her and her friends, but if
you or your sister try to throw your weight around there will be
pushback. You know the saying about how there can be only so
many cooks in the kitchen? Well, the same goes for our kind, in this
community.”
“I really have no idea—”
“Just remember what I’ve said. You’ll get it soon enough. Happy
birthday, Maggie.”
Maggie watched as Savannah descended the stairs and then
disappeared into the darkness of the bar room. What on earth was
that about?
 Pushing the heavy double doors open, Maggie stepped out onto
the sidewalk of downtown Snow Crest. She puzzled over the bizarre
conversation as she returned to her van.
She had three missed calls, and she used the drive home to
answer each one. The final conversation took her right up to her
driveway, and she sat there parked for another twenty minutes,
coaching one of her clients.
“I know you’re tempted to eat your feelings right about now,” she
said. “But believe me, Lenore, it’s going to serve you much better to
face them. How about this? Instead of diving into that slice of pie,
take out a journal and write about what’s going on. Writing can be
very therapeutic. Then, go for a nice long walk. You’re a Maggie’s
Muffin woman now, you can do this. We can do this. Together.”
My work is one part baking, one part life coaching, she thought,
as she descended the stone steps to her apartment unit. Now, if I
could just get a handle on my own life.
She still felt ruffled by her encounter with Savannah, and in
addition she acknowledged her longing for more time with her
daughter.
To ease her sadness, she busied herself with a weight lifting
workout in her spare room, which also functioned as Charlotte’s
bedroom—when she was around.
That done, she hopped in the shower. Yes, she was only going
upstairs, but Maggie hated looking disheveled. She spent a long
while perfecting her outfit, hair, and makeup. Satisfied at last, she
checked the clock and saw that it was now six o’clock. Time for a
drink. Thank goodness.
CHAPTER
FIVE

MAGGIE OPENED the door that led from her basement unit up to
her grandmother’s house. She could hear piano music, the tinkling of
glasses and silverware, and loud voices which occasionally dissolved
into laughter.
Her grandmother’s house was big, with more than enough space
for one woman. It contained three stories and was built into a steep
hillside so that even Maggie’s basement unit was exposed to an
impressive view in the back and had plenty of light.
She reached the middle level of the house. At the front, this level
opened up to the driveway. It consisted of an entryway, three guest
bedrooms, three bathrooms (one with a jacuzzi tub), an office, and
plenty of closet space. A door off to the side of the entryway led to
the three-car garage.
Maggie hiked up the final flight of stairs and the music and
laughter grew louder. As she popped up to the open, uppermost
level of the house she found Celeste and Violet in the kitchen,
mixing drinks and giggling together.
Violet towered over Celeste; at six feet, she carried herself with
confidence, as though comfortable with being the tallest in the
room. She was also about ten years younger than Celeste, in her
mid-eighties, which made her the youngest in their little friend
group. She wore her silver hair short, and her coffee-toned skin was
so wrinkle-free that Maggie often pressed her about her skin-care
regimen when she saw her. Though Violet had retired from her
career in law years earlier, she still dressed as if she was heading to
a courtroom. The fluid way she moved and her easy, deep laugh
belied the working-woman lawyer image.
Tess sat at the grand piano, over by the double doors that led to
the deck. She was in her nineties, but like the others had aged
miraculously well, in Maggie’s opinion. Petite and spry, Her attire was
of the aged-hippy variety: all recycled cottons and hemp, and she
wore her silver hair in a long braid down her back. A spectacular
mountain view complete with pink and gold sunset lit up the
expanse of windows behind her as she banged out a tune on the
ivory keys.
Seeing Maggie, Tess stopped playing. “Girls, she’s here!”
Celeste squealed happily as she shuffled toward Maggie, reached
up, and wrapped her in a hug. She pulled her down and kissed her
cheek, a wet, cool smack. “You made it! Happy birthday, darling.
Look at you—you look fabulous. Glowing. And it’s no surprise. Today
is the day.”
“Oh, turning forty is no big deal,” Maggie said, waving her hand.
She wandered toward Tess, who’d stood from the piano bench.
Tess snickered as she wrapped her arms around Maggie and, in
keeping with Celeste, delivered a kiss to the cheek. “You don’t know
yet, do you, dear?” she asked as she pulled away. She gripped
Maggie’s hand with her own cool, knobby fingers and pulled her
toward the kitchen, where Violet waited with a drink.
“Cosmo?” Violet asked in her characteristically deep, even tone.
She’d always struck Maggie as cool and reserved, not likely to
shower one with affections like the other two.
“That would be great.”
Maggie sipped the fruity, strong drink and sighed. “You are all
acting as if this should be the happiest day of my life. I appreciate
your enthusiasm, but I don’t see what’s so great about forty.” She
sighed, sipped again. “I wish I was still in my twenties. Twenty-one…
now that was an exciting birthday. I finally got to legally get a drink
at a bar. What a thrill that was.”
Tess came up behind Maggie and patted her on the back, almost
making Maggie spill some of her drink. “Oh… you have no idea what
a real thrill is, darling. You’re in for a nice surprise tonight. Drink up;
it’ll make it easier to wrap your head around it.”
“Around what?”
A doorbell rang and then there was the faint sound of the
downstairs door opening.
“That’ll be Belinda,” Celeste said. “Tess, Violet, let’s save the
discussion for after we eat. I think they’ll handle it better.”
“You three are nuts,” Maggie said with a laugh.
Belinda entered, looking rumpled, tired, and grumpy. She greeted
everyone, bracing against Celeste and Tess’s hugs and then
accepting a drink from Violet, just as Maggie had done.
When Tess asked Belinda how she was, Belinda scowled. “Well,
I’m learning about the nature of reality as best as I can from books.
There is groundbreaking work out there that hardly anyone on this
planet seems to care about. Space and time are one unit, it seems,
and actually, time isn’t linear or absolute; it’s relative. I’m mostly
interested in quantum gravity and I’m in touch with several
physicists doing cutting-edge work in universities around the globe.”
Tess yawned.
Belinda didn’t seem to notice, and went on for several more
minutes about a paper she was in the middle of reading. Finally she
said, “But every now and then I have to take a break from my
studies. Maggie insists on it.”
“For your own good,” Maggie interjected.
Belinda sounded doubtful as she went on. “This week, it’s an
investigation… tomorrow morning we’re meeting with a woman who
may want to hire us. Sofia Ortiz.”
Violet joined them. “And who is us?”
“Me and Maggie.”
Violet nodded. “You two have always been a good pair. You
balance each other out. And that will come in very handy as you
enter into this new phase of life.”
The conversation turned to various volunteer activities that Violet
was engaged in, mostly related to family law and foster children, and
then to the community garden project that Tess had founded.
Maggie was glad that the topic of “this new phase of life” had been
dropped. The thought of it made her want to gag.
The meal was delicious: cornish game hen, spring greens,
roasted purple potatoes sprinkled with rosemary, and fresh bread.
For dessert, Celeste served dishes of blackberry sorbet and a pot of
jasmine tea. In each of Belinda’s and Maggie’s dishes of sorbet she’d
stuck a single candle, and everyone sang “Happy Birthday” as she
served it.
Maggie sipped the last of her tea and wondered how long she’d
have to stay now that dessert was through.
She was about to excuse herself for the evening when Celeste
tapped the side of her teacup with her spoon, cutting short Tess’
bubbly speech on her love for bumblebees.
“May I have everyone’s attention please? Now that we’re through
with the meal, we’d better get down to business.” She looked right
at Maggie as she said, “All of us in the Aster lineage are late
bloomers. Historically, we come into our powers in middle age—
specifically, on the day we turn forty. It happened for me, my
grandmother, and her grandmother, before her. Right down the line.”
Maggie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If this was going to be
a pep talk about personal power, she’d rather skip it and listen to a
podcast on the subject matter, delivered by someone with more
credibility than her kooky Nana. It was enough that her grandmother
had insisted, when Maggie married, that she keep her last name
intact as other women in the family had done before. Now she had
to endure more babble about the great “Aster Lineage.” Please, she
thought. This is nonsense.
“Thanks, Nana,” she said, because her grandmother was still
staring right at her. “That’s nice. I’m looking forward to coming into
my own over the next few decades.”
Belinda yawned. “Power is overrated. Knowledge, on the other
hand…” She wiped her eyes behind her glasses. “Now, knowledge is
something worth pursuing. There are so many books and papers out
there containing startling and verifiable information. I have a paper
at home, actually, that I need to read. And speaking of that… I think
I’d better get going—”
 “Now, wait a minute.” Celeste stood and placed both hands on
the table before her. She looked from one twin to the other. “You
girls aren’t listening to what I’m saying. I’m telling you; your lives
are about to change… quite dramatically. Whether you like it or not.
You were born into a line of witches, and I’ve waited forty years to
tell you.”
Maggie sighed. “Come on, Nana. You don’t have to do this…”
“Do what?” Celeste wiggled her brows. “Tell you the truth?”
“Put on a big song and dance for us. Make up a story about
powers. Belinda and I will slip into middle age just like everyone
else, you don’t have to candy coat it for us.”
“I can see you’re going to fight this,” Celeste said, “And that’s
just what I was afraid of. Maggie, you’ve always had a strong will
and certain ideas about success. You’re stubborn and you like to
work hard. This is all going to seem too easy to you. But you’ll just
have to accept that sometimes you can be given a magnificent gift
just because you were born. Witchcraft is your inheritance. You don’t
need to do anything to earn it, and I’m sure that’s going to drive you
batty.”
She swiveled to Belinda. “And you, my girl, have always tried to
collect facts. This is going to be difficult for you because I don’t have
all the reasoning behind how magic works. I’ve never been one for
theories; that’s not the kind of path this is. We don’t give a fig about
facts or theories, do we girls?”
Tess shook her head and grinned. “Oh, heck no. What it comes
down to is trying it out for yourself. You’ve got to feel it work, and
then you’ll see. That’s how it was for me, when my grannie
explained things. I was younger than you two… eighteen. Every
lineage has a certain age, when the powers come out. All the
witches in my family bloomed right at eighteen. Violet…?”
“In my family, even younger. I was twelve.”
“And us Asters,” Celeste said. “We bloom late. And so… here we
are. Your fortieth birthday.” She pulled out two thin, square-shaped
wrapped packages from her pocket and placed one before each
sister. “These are part of your inheritance. Open them up.”
 Maggie lifted the little package and tore away the paper. Within
she found a ring. It wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t exactly her style,
either. She turned it in her fingertips and examined the half-circle
shaped turquoise stone in a silver setting, mounted on a simple
silver band. “Thank you, Nana,” she said before slipping it onto her
right ring finger.
Looking over, Maggie noted that her sister had received an
identical ring and she was now scowling down at it with barely-
masked distaste. She’d never worn jewelry. Finally, she forced a thin
smile, thanked Celeste, and carefully rewrapped the ring before
tucking it into her pocket.
“Yes, that’s fine, Belinda,” Celeste said. “Take it home with you
and try it on when you’re ready. And Maggie, yours looks perfect.
The turquoise and silver come from the ring my grandmother wore
when she practiced. I had to get the stone cut in half, the silver
remolded. One ring became two. Now, remember, girls, this is the
start of a whole new way of life for you. It might take some time to
adjust. But you’ll see… being a witch is a real hoot. You’re going to
enjoy it. Do you have any questions?”
Maggie tried to hide her growing annoyance at the charade.
“Nope,” she said firmly. These three old ladies could chat about
witchcraft all they wanted, but she had work to do in the morning—
to the tune of 68 muffins to be baked—and she wasn’t about to
indulge in their fantasies. She stood. “Thank you so much for the
beautiful ring, Nana, and for the delicious meal and great company. I
really have to get to bed. Busy day tomorrow. As usual, my alarm
will go off at three o’clock and if I don’t call it a night now, I’ll be
dragging all day. Plus, Belinda and I have a meeting with a potential
client.”
“That’s right,” Belinda added, standing as well. “I need to head
out, too.”
After hugging each woman in turn and thanking her grandmother
profusely for the gift and the party, Maggie led Belinda down the
stairs. At the door that led out to the garage, she paused and
whispered, “What do you think that was all about?”
 Belinda shrugged. “They’re old. They have to entertain
themselves somehow. Maybe they even believe in what they’re
talking about.”
“Well, I hope Nana drops it now that we’ve indicated we’re not
interested. I don’t have time for this kind of silliness.”
“Neither do I. There are much more important things to think
about.”
“Exactly.” Maggie leaned in and gave her twin a quick hug good
night. “See you at quarter to ten, tomorrow. Get some sleep tonight,
okay? I mean it.”
Downstairs, Maggie went about her usual nightly routine. As she
arranged her phone and water on the nightstand she whispered.
“I’m a witch… ha. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.” Then she
pulled down her satin sleep mask, flopped down onto her pillow, and
drifted into sleep.
CHAPTER
SIX

MAGGIE LIFTED her green tea and took a grateful sip. It had
been a long day already, and it was only ten o’clock in the morning.
At least Belinda had been ready for the outing, instead of running
late like she usually was. She’d even dressed in clean clothes and
combed her short hair, which was another pleasant surprise. They’d
arrived at Silver Ridge Coffee five minutes before ten and had the
good fortune of snagging a table on the back patio before Sofia
joined them.
Now, as Sofia settled into her seat and extracted a manila folder
from her leather handbag, Maggie focused on switching gears,
mentally. It was time to put thoughts of her muffin business aside,
and think only of the matter at hand.
Beyond the patio seating, a river roared. Birds sang in nearby
trees, which were covered in bright green buds. The patio was
empty except for their table. Other diners had opted for the cozy
indoor seating rather than braving the chill nip in the air that
persisted despite the bright spring sunshine.
Sofia opened the folder and shuffled through the papers within.
She was in her fifties with short, salon-styled auburn hair. Her gold
earrings, studs fashioned in the shape of knots, were so big that
they dragged her earlobes down, and she wore a thick, knotted gold
necklace to match. Her white blouse, textured cotton blazer, and
slim-fitted denim gave her the appearance of wealth and class.
Maggie also knew, thanks to the buzz around town that had
occurred along with Renata’s death, that Sofia Ortiz had oodles in
the bank.
Maggie cleared her throat. “Belinda… why don’t you tell Sofia a
little bit about what you do? You know… introduce yourself and tell
her about the bank robbery case you solved. That might be a good
way to get this started.”
“Why don’t you tell her?” Belinda said with a scowl.
Maggie sighed. “Fine. Sofia, I’m Maggie Aster, and this is my
sister, Belinda. I believe that you’ve heard that Belinda has had some
success in getting to the root of complicated crimes in the past.
She’s not an official PI; you can think of her as a consultant. I assist
with the work when I can, mostly handling logistics like setting up
interviews, paperwork, and that kind of thing. We’re not exactly sure
if we can help you, but we’d like to at least hear what it is you’re
struggling with. Am I right that it has to do with what happened to
your daughter?” She could not quite bring herself to say the word
“murder.”
Sofia nodded primly. “I know it might sound absurd, seeing as
the police have already done a thorough investigation, but I can’t
help it that I feel that there’s more to the story—something they’re
missing. I’ve tried to discuss my doubts with them. At first they were
sympathetic, but lately they’ve begun to give me attitude whenever I
call the station… along with the same old answers, on repeat. I feel
as though they’ve written me off.”
“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” Maggie suggested.
Sofia looked down at the papers, which seemed to be a mix of
newspaper clippings, photocopied pages, and print-outs. “It’s
complicated… but I’ll do my best. I brought all the articles that I’ve
collected. For a while, there was a good deal of media coverage. Did
you follow the case at all?”
“To be honest, I’m so busy most days with running my business
that I barely read or listen to the news at all,” Maggie admitted.
“That’s right… Dolores mentioned your work, and I’ve heard of
you around town. You sell those meal replacement muffins. I’ve
heard good things.”
 “Thank you.” Out of habit, Maggie felt the urge to whip out a
business card and try to rope in a new client. She stopped the
impulse, though, and motioned to Belinda. “Belinda, what about
you? Did you keep up with the media around that time?”
“I read a few of the articles, but not all of them. I’ve been
preoccupied with other things for the past few months,” Belinda said
curtly. “Way too busy to keep up with local news.”
“My sister likes to work on physics and math problems. When
she’s in the thick of things, all else takes a backseat.” Maggie
cringed, recalling the many times her twin had let life’s necessities
like showering, paying bills, and even basic grocery shopping simply
fall away. “I think it’s a good thing you brought along the articles,
Sofia. If this ends up being a good fit, it will be helpful to have all
the facts on hand.”
Belinda scoffed. “There’s a big difference between what’s
reported in the news and actual facts. The definition of a ‘fact’ is a
piece of information that has been proven to be true. Journalists
these days often spout off opinions.” Without checking with Sofia
she snatched the folder and started reading the top clipping.
Before Maggie could try to smooth over the awkward moment,
Belinda continued. “It says here that Renata was twenty-seven when
she died, and she was fatally shot in the head in the pool house on
your property, which is where she was living at the time. You and
your staff found her.”
Sofia inhaled. Her hand trembled as she lifted her coffee cup.
Maggie kicked Belinda’s foot under the table.
Belinda looked up. “What?”
“We can read those later. Let’s show a little bit of tact, why don’t
we?” She glared at her sister. “Okay?”
Belinda didn’t answer, but returned her gaze to the article and
kept reading.
Maggie took a deep breath. “Where were we? Let’s get back on
track. Sofia, you were going to tell us a little bit more about your
situation and why you’re here. You say you have doubts about the
police investigation…?”
 “That’s right. You see, they think a man named Hans Wilheim
killed my daughter. It was his gun that was found near her body.”
She looked out toward the river and hesitated for a moment before
going on. “He and my daughter used to be romantically involved…
engaged to be married at one point. I thought he was the perfect
match for her; he comes from a very good family. You’ve heard of
the Wilheims haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Maggie said, well aware that the Wilheims were the uber-
wealthy owners of multiple ski resorts in the area. “But you’d better
fill Belinda in.”
“The Wilheim’s own several ski areas across Colorado, and even a
few on the east coast,” Sofia said. “But it wasn’t just his family's
wealth and status that made me think he’d be good for my
daughter.... I also saw how he treated Renata with so much care
and attention. They dated through their senior year of school. He
really was good to her. But, they were both young, just out of high
school when he first proposed. I think he got scared about settling
down so early. Like most young men, he wanted to see the world,
have adventures. He broke the engagement off after six months and
moved overseas at the age of eighteen. Renata was, of course,
devastated.”
Maggie eyed Belinda, hopeful that her sister had a question
ready. However, Belinda’s focus was now entirely on the article she
held.
I guess this interview is up to me, Maggie thought bitterly. “That
is really young… eighteen. So, he moved out of the country and left
Renata behind. What did he do overseas?”
“He worked for a private security company. They guarded an oil
drilling site in the middle east. If it was adventure he wanted, I’m
sure he got it, there. I heard from his parents that the city where he
was stationed had to deal with all sorts of upheaval. The
government was very unstable, especially for the first few years he
was there. Though he worked for a private company, it was almost
like he was involved in a war. Hans was lucky to come out of it alive.”
“He returned to the states, I take it?”
 “Yes, recently.” Sofia shifted, and looked out toward the river. “A
few weeks before Renata died, actually.”
Again, Maggie glanced at Belinda. “Are you listening?” she asked.
“Mm.” Belinda finished scanning one article, shifted it to the back
of the pile, and lifted another.
I’m going to take that as a no, Maggie thought with frustration.
She wondered briefly if she should grab her day planner from her
purse and try to take down some notes about the timeline that Sofia
was laying out, but it was too late; Sofia had already started talking
again.
“When I heard from Hans’ parents that he was back in town and
working in construction, I felt so hopeful. Renata had been
absolutely and completely crushed when the engagement fell apart,
and to be honest, she’d never recovered. That’s why she was still
living at home with me, albeit in the pool house… She was lost,
listless. Without direction. I thought it might make her very happy to
see him again. So, I contacted him and asked if he would renovate
the indoor pool room. I wanted all the window panes replaced. To
my delight he agreed to start work right away.”
“So, you were setting them up… your daughter and Hans?”
Maggie asked.
Sofia nodded. “I thought it would be perfect; he’d come work on
the pool room, and of course she’d be right there in the pool house,
and they’d get to talking. Sparks would fly… they would reunite and
set old rifts aside, get their relationship back on the track it had once
been on. That was my hope. I could almost hear the wedding bells
ringing.”
She sipped her drink. “At first it appeared that everything was
going as planned. Hans showed up in a shiny new truck, looking as
handsome as ever. He and Renata got to talking. I saw them
together on several occasions, engaged in deep conversation. On his
third day on the job, Renata came into the main house and said that
he’d invited her out to dinner but she wasn’t sure she should go. I
encouraged her to take him up on the offer.”
Belinda tapped the page she was reading. “This article says that
they had an argument at the restaurant they went to. Other diners
witnessed the scene.”
Sofia nodded. “That’s right. It was a very public argument.
Renata stormed out, took a cab home. That night, she was shot. It
was Hans’ gun that the police found, near her body. Apparently,
when he returned home to the states he’d purchased it and it was
registered to his name. That night, the police went to his apartment
to bring him in for questioning. He wasn’t home, and he hasn’t been
located since. The police told me that they have evidence that he’s
now overseas. He was spotted on camera, leaving a hotel near
where he worked for all those years, in the Middle East. I’m sure he
still has plenty of contacts there. There are several law enforcement
agencies on a federal level trying to find him at this point, but none
have had any luck.”
Maggie considered this. “Everything adds up to his guilt. Why do
you have doubts?”
“Call it intuition,” Sofia said, averting her gaze again. “I always
liked Hans. I know he kept the gun in the glove compartment of his
truck. Renata mentioned that to me, because it surprised her. But I
told her it was probably just his way of coping with the violence he’d
seen while working in private security… a way of feeling safe.
Though he owned it, I don’t believe he’d ever use it against my
daughter. I think he loved her.”
“There must be more than that,” Maggie insisted.
Sofia pursed her lips.
“So… an intuition. That’s it?”
Belinda set down the last article. “Sofia, I have one question for
you.”
“Just… just one?” Sofia sounded nervous.
Belinda took a quick sip of her black coffee, and then set the
mug down. “Does Hans Wilheim have a lisp?”
“No, no he doesn’t,” Sofia said. “Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“We’ll work for you,” Belinda said. “Maggie, give her a contract to
sign.”
Maggie stood and beckoned for her sister to get up as well.
“Sofia, we’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder before
marching toward the river bank with Belinda right behind her.
 The roar of the water grew louder here, and she had to raise her
voice slightly to be heard. “Belinda, were you listening to anything
Sofia just said?” She raked her fingers through her hair, and could
not keep the sharp edge of frustration from her voice. At times—and
this was one of them—Belinda drove her mad. “She basically just
told us that the police have already cracked the case, but the killer’s
disappeared overseas. We’re not exactly equipped to join in an
international manhunt, you know.”
“We won’t have to.”
“What makes you so sure? You buried your nose in those news
articles, but I was actually listening to her talk and she said it, plain
as day. This guy Hans worked overseas for something like seven or
eight years.”
“Nine.”
“Fine, nine years. Obviously he knows his way around. Do you
know how difficult it would be to track down a person in a foreign
country? We can’t just up and leave, and even if we could travel,
there are millions of people out there and we’re definitely not
equipped for that kind of search.”
“Those would all be fine points, except for one thing.”
Maggie folded her arms over her chest. “What?”
“We’re not going to be tracking down Hans Wilheim.”
“You’re kidding me. Everything points to his guilt.”
“Not everything. Are you aware that Sofia was in the middle of a
divorce when her daughter was killed?”
Maggie shook her head.
Belinda went on. “She was. This was husband number two,
Mortimer Shanser. He and Sofia married when Renata was thirteen.
He enjoyed investing in artwork, and he and Sofia collected an
impressive number of valuable, original paintings together. I just
read about it. It was in the fifth article in the stack she handed over,
titled: Theft of Multi-Million Dollar Painting Plagues Ortiz Family In
Addition to Daughter's Death.”
“What’s the deal with the painting?”
“It was an original work of art. A small Andy Warhol from the
post-war era. Though Sofia and Mortimer each had impressive teams
of lawyers fighting for them, Mortimer’s were a little more skilled in
arguing and he won ownership of almost all the artwork—
everything except that one Warhol painting, which happened to be
the most valuable one in the collection, worth thirteen million
dollars. He wasn’t satisfied with this and had his lawyers appeal the
judgment. The appeal worked in his favor, and a higher court
awarded him that final painting, too. He’d just picked it up from
Sofia’s house and was driving when he was held at gunpoint, the
painting stolen. Later that day, Renata died.”
“Rough luck,” Maggie said.
“Not at all,” Belinda said. “What are the chances of two gun-
related crimes occurring to one family, all in the course of twenty-
four hours? The answer is that the probability is very small. It’s
much more likely that the two crimes are related.”
“How?”
“That’s what we have to find out.”
Maggie swept her wind-tossed hair out of her eyes. “What was
that you asked… about a lisp?”
“The seventh article in that folder contained a quote from
Mortimer. He stated that the robber who held him at gunpoint to
steal the painting spoke with a lisp. As Sofia just told us, Hans did
not. Therefore, Hans did not hold Mortimer at gunpoint. Someone
else did. Seeing as the two crimes must be connected, and most
probably committed by the same individual, I believe that means
that a different person also killed Renata.”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose and sucked in a breath
before going on. “The bulk of our investigation will consist of
searching for a man with a lisp… which is most likely a frontal lisp,
making ‘s’ sound like ‘th.’ Frontal lisps are actually fairly common,
occurring in about eight to twenty-three percent of the population.
But, if we add in a few other traits of the robber, such as his height
and build, that pool becomes significantly smaller. I hypothesize that
he was connected to the Ortiz family in some way before either
crime occurred. Again, our pool grows smaller. In fact, there is
probably only one or two people who fit that exact description. Once
we find him, the rest of the story should come together fairly easily.”
 “You got all that, just from our first conversation with Sofia?”
Belinda nodded. “The articles helped.”
“Alright then. I guess we're going to take the case.”
Back at the table, Maggie handed over a packet of papers and
explained the terms of service. “You can read everything over at
your leisure and scan it back to us when you’re ready. I included our
contact information in the packet. You’ll also find an explanation of
what we charge. It’s an hourly rate of—”
“The cost is irrelevant,” Sofia said as she leafed through the
packet and then tucked it into her bag. “I’ll pay whatever it takes to
get to the truth. I’ll have this ready for you this afternoon. Thank
you for meeting with me today. You’ve given me a renewed sense of
hope.”
She looked as though she wanted to say more, but apparently
she thought better of it. When she stood, she offered her hand to
Belinda, who was too busy reading the articles again to notice.
Maggie did shake Sofia’s hand, noting the cool, firm grip.
It wasn’t until Sofia was gone that Maggie finally acknowledged
the knot in her stomach. “We basically just took on a murder
investigation,” she murmured as she leaned back in her chair.
Belinda closed the folder. “We did.”
“Can we handle it?”
“It’s like the other cases. And I told you, I’ve figured out the bulk
of it already.”
“It’s not like the other cases,” Maggie said. “This one involves a
killer. And if you’re right, and Hans is innocent, then the real killer
may be very close by. This could be dangerous. Are you okay with
that?”
“Every activity comes with risk. Walking, swimming, even driving
a car. Statistically speaking, more people die in car accidents than—”
“I don’t want to know,” Maggie said, as she got to her feet.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. I still have a million things to do
today. I’ll drop you off at your place. We can meet up after I’m done
with work to make a plan about how we’re going to handle this.”
“Fine, but I’m not leaving home again.”
“Then I’ll come to you. I should be there around six.”
 “Unless you want a TV dinner, you’ll have to bring something to
eat.”
“I’ll grab takeout,” Maggie promised.
As they walked to the car, Maggie thought over the task they’d
just shouldered as a team. Belinda has absolutely no common sense,
she reminded herself. It’s up to me to look out for her.
I encouraged her to get involved in this mess, and now I’ve got
to make sure to get her out of it unharmed.
CHAPTER
SEVEN

AFTER DROPPING BELINDA OFF, Maggie continued with the

day’s muffin deliveries, only now at a faster pace seeing as she’d just
used a valuable hour of her time for the meeting at the coffee shop.
At one o’clock she stopped and practically inhaled one of her own
baked creations, the zucchini-carrot variety which always made her
feel like a superstar because she knew it was chock full of vitamins
A, C, and D. While eating she answered emails and then updated a
few invoices. Her website’s payment page had declined two more
credit card payments that should have gone through, so she fired off
several emails to the customer service center. All that done, she
returned to her delivery route.
Finally, at 2:45 she headed toward her final task of the day, a
visit with Dolores. She always popped in on her new clients daily, for
the first week that they were enrolled in the program. This tended to
get things off on the right foot, she felt.
A few miles away from her destination she spotted her favorite
tea shop and swung the car into the parking lot. She had a few
minutes to spare, and another green tea would hit the spot.
Bubbly Tea was nestled between a preschool and a senior living
facility. The preschool was just getting out and the lot was crowded
with parents ushering kids toward cars. After a moment of searching
Maggie managed to find a spot.
Inside, Maggie wove through the crowded tables. Some
customers had laptops out, while others looked down at phones or
conversed with one another. After a short wait, Maggie ordered a
large, iced passion-fruit green tea. The drink didn’t take long to
make, and soon she had the tall cup in hand and was pulling the
refreshing pink liquid up through the straw in thirsty gulps. Midway
to the doors, a voice made her stop short.
“Maginty…?”
There was only one person who called her by her full name—a
boy she’d gone to high school with.
Looking around, she spotted him. He wore hip, black-rimmed
glasses and a button-up shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
There was a laptop on the table in front of him along with a stack of
papers, a black leather computer bag, and two empty coffee cups.
Clearly he was in the middle of some sort of work marathon.
He looked nothing like he used to all those years ago when they
battled for status as top of the class. Back then, Aiden Mack had
been a gangly, beanstalk of a guy. Thick glasses, acne, braces, the
works. As seniors in high school, he’d insisted on sprouting the
worst, ugliest mustache that Maggie had ever seen: it had looked
like a brown caterpillar crawling across his upper lip.
Thank goodness he’d shaved that off. He looked good all around;
he’d grown into his tall frame and now had broad shoulders and a
narrow waist. Where his button up lay open she caught sight of a
wrinkled, rumpled tee shirt with a superhero character on it—traces
of his geeky past.
He pulled off his glasses and looked up at her with those dark,
aware eyes he’d always had. “Wow… It’s been a long time.” He
leaned back against the back of the bench.
“Since high school,” she said. “You were always a thorn in my
side.” The comment slipped out before she could censor herself.
He chuckled. “I think the feeling was mutual.”
“Thanks,” she said sarcastically. His deep chuckle drew out a
laugh of her own.
Now he stood up and opened his arms as if inviting her in for a
hug. Maggie was surprised, but reminded herself that it was
conventional for old classmates to greet each other like this. She
fitted herself against his broad, muscular chest, impressed at the
bulk and weight of his arms as he squeezed her for a second. What
had happened to the gangly nerd she’d once known?
“You’re still into comics, I see,” she said, eyeing his tee shirt as
she stepped back.
“Oh yeah. More than ever.” He gestured toward the chair across
from him. “Join me?”
She remained standing. “I can’t chat. I’m rushing off to a
meeting at three.”
“That’s the Maginty I remember. You always stayed busy back in
high school, too. Cheer squad, varsity sports, drama, student
council, high-honors. You went after success full force.”
“Yeah, well. Nice bumping into you.” She meant to leave, but
found herself rooted to the spot, still gawking at his transformation.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve changed, Aiden. You used to be
so… so awkward. And always trying to one up me. I used to hate
having classes with you.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was
rude.”
He laughed again, shook his head. “Hey… it’s fine. I know I
wasn’t exactly a charmer back in those days. And man, were we at
each other’s throats. I was king of the nerds… wanted that
scholarship that went along with the valedictorian spot so badly. You
were always biting at my heels, trying to snatch it away.”
“I was biting at your heels? I don’t think so! I was at the top
most of the time, and you were on my heels.”
“Still have your competitive edge, I see.”
“I was so mad when at the last minute you got top of the class
and a free ride to Colorado State.” She sighed. “But I guess it
worked out… I couldn’t have left Belinda for that long, anyway. I
heard you went on to get your masters in computer sciences or
something like that.”
He nodded. “Yep. At UC Berkeley. Got a masters in website
development.”
“I also heard you met your wife out there in California…?”
He looked down and straightened a stack of papers. “Yep. I was
married for a while. Divorced now, but it’s for the best.”
“I’m divorced, too.”
 “That’s right. You married Mr. Popular himself, right? Football
captain Jake Miller?”
“It’s so cliche, isn’t it? Prom Queen and Prom King ending up
together. I guess what really got me was when he became mayor of
Snow Crest… Dang, did I melt when he talked politics. We were
married for eight years, still friends. We have a daughter. She’s
amazing. Twelve years old. How about you? Kids?”
He shook his head.
“Hey, actually…” Maggie set down her drink so she could extract
a business card from her purse. She handed it to him, and their
fingers brushed. “My website is a mess, and I need some serious
help. I run a business called Maggie’s Muffins. The payment page is
glitching and I can’t seem to get hold of anyone from customer
service. Do you think you could take a look at it one of these days
with me, seeing as you’re in town?”
He examined her card, hesitated a moment, and then set it on
his stack of papers. When he looked up at her, he lifted one corner
of his mouth in a quick, shy smile. “Yeah, sure. I can help. It sounds
like fun. We could meet up for a beer, maybe grab dinner? Would
tonight work for you?”
She screwed her lips. “Tonight’s out. I’m in the middle of
something with Belinda and we’re supposed to work on it as soon as
I get through with my client stuff.”
“Are you still her guardian angel, like you were back in the day? I
remember how you used to watch out for her.”
“Not much has changed on that front. Hey, maybe next week
sometime, though? I have a hectic schedule but Friday and Saturday
evenings are usually pretty good for me.”
His face fell. “Actually, I’m heading back to California before then.
I’m just here visiting Mom for a few days. She’s in the senior housing
next door. Shoot.”
“No problem,” Maggie said quickly. “I’ll figure it out.”
His gaze hung on hers and for an instant she noted his
disappointment.
Did he suggest dinner and drinks as some kind of date? That’s
ridiculous. We’re old enemies, and the man lives in a different state.
She picked up her iced tea and tried to clear her mind. “Hey, I better
run. Glad to bump into you, Aiden. See you.”
“Bye, Maginty.”
She felt his eyes on her as she pushed open the front door with
one hip and then stepped out into the fresh air.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
huimapäinen vain, kuten sinäkin, Gustel, taidat olla. Hitto vieköön,
kuinka kauan olet jo hyöriskellyt kuninkaan ympärillä? Olet muuten
kerrassaan kuin poika. Ja vaaleat kiharat on ajettu niskasta,
junkkari», ja vanhus nykäisi häntä tukasta. »Älä vain kuvittele olevasi
ainoa naisolento leirissä. Katsoppas vain Jakob Eriksonia tässä.»
Poika astui juuri sisään tuoden pulloja ja laseja. »Samallainen mies
kuin sinäkin! Ole rauhassa, Gustel! Hän ei ole jaksanut oppia
ainoatakaan saksan sanaa. Siihen hän on liian typerä. Mutta mitä
kunnollisin ja jumalisin nainen! Ja ruma! Muuten luonnollisin asia
maailmassa, Gustel: seitsemän paitaressua, elättäjä määrätty
sotaan, vaimo lähtenyt hänen sijastaan. Mitä parhain mies! En voisi
enää mitenkään tulla toimeen ilman häntä.»

Hovipoika tarkasti tuota kelpo olentoa tuntien ehdotonta

vastenmielisyyttä, ja eversti jatkoi tarinaansa. »Oli miten oli, mutta ei
ole ollut helppoa päästä kuninkaan katon alle, sillä hän inhoaa naisia
miesten puvussa. Olet esittänyt satua, jota Upsalan penkeillä
kutsutaan monodraamaksi, kun jokin ypö yksin riemuitsee, pelkää,
on epätoivoissaan, tuntee hellyyttä, on traagillinen ja haaveilee! Ja
olet vielä Herra ties miten paljon kuvitellut, vaikkei ainoakaan
kuolevainen tiedä siitä mitään tai välitä hituistakaan. Sinä näytät
tyytymättömältä? Hengenvaarallista ei se suorastaan ole,
lapsukaiseni! Jos asia olisi paljastunut: 'korjaa luusi, heittiö!' olisi hän
sinulle tiuskaissut ja jo heti perästä ajatellut jotain muuta. Mutta
olisipa kuningatar nähnyt naamiosi läpi! Huh! Sen minä sanon: lapsia
ei pidä suudella! Sellainen suudelma uinuu ja syttyy jälleen liekkiin,
kun huulet kasvavat ja paisuvat. Ja se on ja pysyy totena, että
kuningas on ottanut sinut kerran minun sylistäni, kummilapseni,
hyväillyt ja suudellut että vain läiskähti! Sillä sinä olit uljas ja sievä
lapsi.» Hovipoika ei tiennyt mitään suudelmasta, mutta hän tunsi sen
ja sävähti punaiseksi.
 »Entäs nyt, huimapää, mihin nyt ryhdytään?» Hän mietti vähän
aikaa. »Hyvä, minä luovutan sinulle toisen telttani! Sinusta tulee
minun ratsutyttöni, annat kunniasanasi ettet pötki tiehesi ja ratsastat
minun kanssani kunnes sota päättyy. Sitten minä vien sinut kotiini
Ruotsiin lähelle Gefleä. Minä olen yksin. Minun kaksi nuorempaa
poikaani, Axel ja Erik» — hänen silmästään pusertui kyynel.
»Kuninkaan ja isänmaan puolesta!» sanoi hän. »Jäljelle jäänyt
vanhin elää Falunissa sanan palvelijana ja hänellä on suuri palkka.
Voit valita meidän molempien välillä.» Leubelfing lupasi risti-isälleen
mitä jo oli itselleen luvannut ja kertoi sitten hänelle juurtajaksain
seikkailunsa sillä totuuden kaipuulla, joka pyrkii ilmoille pitkän
naamio-elämän perästä yhtä valtavasti kuin nälkä ja jano pitkän
paaston jälkeen.

Vanhus pohti kuulemaansa juttua ja nautti sitten erikoisesti

Leubelfing-serkusta, jonka piirteet hän antoi hovipojan kuvata.
»Liinatukka», punnitsi hän, »ei voi sille mitään, että hän on ämmä.
Se on hänen suonissaan. Minunkin poikani, Falunin pappi, on jänis.
Hän on perinyt äidiltään.»

Kesän lopusta aina elonkorjuun päähän ja aina siihen saakka, kun

eräänä pakkasaamuna ensimäiset ohuet hahtuvat kierivät
maantiellä, ratsasti hovipoika Leubelfing kiltisti risti-isänsä, eversti
Åke Totten vieressä sinne tänne aina sen mukaan, minne sodan
epävakaiset vaiheet milloinkin veivät. Pääkortteeria ja kuningasta
hän ei tavannut, kun eversti useimmiten johti etu- tai jälkijoukkoja.
Mutta Kustaa Aadolf eli nytkin hänen sielunsa silmissä, joskin
kirkastuneessa ja koskemattomassa muodossa, nyt kun hän ei enää
ravistanut häntä kiharoista ja kun hovipoika ei enää kuullut
kuninkaan öisin vieressään, vain ohuen seinän eroittamana,
kääntelevän ja rykivän. Sattumalta sai Leubelfing sitten taas nähdä
kuninkaan kasvot. Se tapahtui Naumburgin torilla. Hovipoika oli
viivähtänyt jonkin ostoksen vuoksi ja aikoi juuri lähteä ratsastamaan
tavoittaakseen everstinsä, joka tällä kertaa komensi etujoukkoja ja oli
jo lähtenyt kaupungista. Yhä sankemmaksi käyvän ihmisjoukon
likistäessä häntä ja hänen hevostaan taloja vastaan, Leubelfing näki
ahtaalla torilla näyn, jonka ihmissilmät ovat vain kerran nähneet, kun
rauhanruhtinas useita satoja vuosia sitten aasintamman seljässä
saapui Jerusalemiin. Tosin istui Kustaa muhkean sotaoriin selässä
haarniskoitujen, uljailla ratsuilla ajavien miesten ympäröimänä; mutta
Pohjan kuningasta saartoi satoihin nouseva ihmisjoukko kiihkeiden
tunteiden vallassa: vaimoja, jotka molemmin käsin nostivat lapsiaan
riemuitsevien päitten yli, miehiä, jotka ojensivat käsiään saadakseen
painaa Kustaan oikeata kättä, nuoria tyttöjä, jotka suutelivat hänen
jalustimiaan, köyhää väkeä, joka heittäytyi polvilleen hänen eteensä
pelkäämättä että kuninkaan hevonen kavioillaan survoisi — hevonen
astui muuten lauhkeasti ja rauhallisesti — rohkeata, rakkauden ja
innostuksen huumaamaa kansaa, jonka hengen omaisuuden
kuningas oli pelastanut. Ilmeisesti liikutettuna kumartuen ratsultaan
seudun pappisvanhuksen puoleen, joka vasten kuninkaan tahtoa
suuteli tämän kättä aivan Leubelfingin silmien edessä, sanoi Kustaa
ääneen: »kansa kunnioittaa minua kuin Jumalaa. Se on liikaa ja
muistuttaa minua kuolemastani. Vanhus, minä ratsastan
pakanallisen jumalattaren Victorian ja kristityn kuolemanenkelin
seurassa.»

Kyyneleet nousivat hovipojan silmiin. Mutta nähdessään ikkunassa

vastapäätä kuningattaren, jolle kuningas viittasi hellät jäähyväiset,
hovipoika tunsi polttavaa mustasukkaisuutta rinnassaan.

Kun ruotsalaiset joukot tuskin viikkoa myöhemmin kokoontuivat

Lützenin lakealle kentälle, marssi Åke Tott kuninkaan vaunujen
lähellä. Leubelfing huomasi pilvenhattarain alla petolinnun liitävän ja
mitä itsepintaisimmin pysyttelevän kuninkaallisen ryhmän yllä
välittämättä pyssynlaukauksista, joilla sitä koetettiin karkoittaa. Hän
ajatteli lauenburgilaista. Uhkasiko hänen kostonsa kuningasta?
Hovipoika kävi hyvin levottomaksi. Hämärän tullessa hänen
rauhattomuutensa yhä kasvoi ja kun jo oli aivan pimeä, kannusti hän
hevostaan, välittämättä antamastaan kunniasanasta, ja hävisi
everstin näkyvistä, joka huusi hänelle »petturi».

Täyttä laukkaa ratsastettuaan saavutti hän kuninkaan vaunut ja

yhtyi seurueeseen, joka odotetun suuren taistelun edellisenä
päivänä ei näkynyt häntä huomaavan tai hänestä välittävän.
Kuningas aikoi viettää yönsä vaunuissa, mutta kylmyys pakoitti
hänet jättämään ne ja hakemaan suojaa vaatimattomasta
talonpoikaistalosta. Päivän valjetessa tungeskelivat käskyläiset
matalassa tuvassa, missä kuningas jo istui karttojensa ääressä.
Ruotsalaiset joukot olivat järjestetyt, saksalaiset rykmentit vielä
järjestämättä. Kuninkaan ystävällinen kamaripalvelija oli tuntenut
Leubelfingin, vaan ei vaatinut häntä tilille, ja niin oli tämä taas
päässyt Ruotsin vaakunan koristamalle jakkaralleen, jolla hän ennen
oli istunut kuninkaan vieressä, ja nurkkaan vetäytyneenä hän pysyi
tuntemattomana vaihtuvain sotilashahmojen takana.

Kuningas oli antanut viimeisetkin käskynsä ja tullut mitä

ihmeellisimmän mielialan valtaan. Hän nousi hitaasti ja kääntyi
läsnäolevien puoleen, jotka olivat pelkkiä saksalaisia ja joista
useampi kuin yksi oli Nürnbergin luona leirissä saanut häneltä
ankaran nuhdesaarnan. Tunsiko hän sen valtakunnan totuutta ja
laupeutta, jota hän luuli olevansa lähellä? Hän viittoi kädellään ja
puhui hiljaa, miltei uneksien, pikemmin eloisine silmineen kuin
huulillaan, jotka tuskin liikkuivat. »Herrat ja ystävät, tänään lienee
minun hetkeni tullut. Siksi tahtoisin jättää teille testamenttini. En
suinkaan huolehtiakseni sodasta — pitäkööt elossa olevat siitä
huolen. Vaan — paitsi autuudestani — minun muistostani teissä!
Olen tullut meren yli pää täynnä kaikenlaisia ajatuksia, mutta
väkevämpi kaikkea muuta oli vilpittömästi sanoen huoli sanan
puhtaudesta. Breitenfeldin voiton jälkeen olisin voinut tarjota
keisarille siedettävät rauhanehdot ja turvattuani evankeliumin palata
saaliineni petoeläimen tavoin Ruotsini rotkoihin. Mutta mielessäni
olivat Saksan asiat. Hiukan tosin teki mieleni teidän kruunuanne,
herrat! Mutta sanon vilpittömästi: suurempi kuin kunnianhimoni oli
huoli valtakunnasta! Habsburgilaiselle ei se saa enää mitenkään
kuulua, sillä tämä on evankelinen valtakunta. Nyt te ajattelette ja
sanotte: vieras kuningas ei saa meitä hallita! Ja te olette oikeassa.
Sillä on kirjoitettu: muukalainen älköön perikö valtakuntaa. Lopuksi
ajattelin lapseni kättä ja erästä kolmetoistavuotiasta…» Hänen
hiljainen puheensa hukkui majapaikan ohi kulkevan türingiläisen
ratsuväen rykmentin myrskyisään lauluun, josta erikoisesti eroittuivat
sanat:

»Mutt’ pimeyden vallat me

Voitamme Herran kautta…»

Kuningas kuunteli ja jättäen puheensa kesken sanoi: »Ei muuta,

kaikki on kunnossa», ja päästi herrat menemään. Hän laskeutui
polvilleen rukoilemaan.

Hovipoika näki lauenburgilaisen astuvan sisään ja hänen

sydämensä alkoi rajusti sykkiä. Tavalliseen ratsupukuun puettuna
hän lähestyi kuningasta matelevasti ja herpoutuneena ja ojensi
kätensä kuningasta kohti tämän hitaasti noustessa. Hän heittäytyi
maahan Kustaan eteen, syleili hänen polviaan, nyyhkytti ja rukoili
häneltä armoa tuhlaajapojan liikuttavin sanoin: »Isä, minä olen
rikkonut taivasta vastaan ja sinun edessäsi», ja taas uudelleen:
»Olen rikkonut taivasta vastaan ja sinun edessäsi enkä ole
mahdollinen pojaksesi kutsuttaa», ja hän taivutti katuvana päätään.
Kuningas nosti hänet maasta ja sulki hänet syliinsä.

Hovipojan kauhistuneissa silmissä häipyivät molemmat toisiaan

syleilevät sumuun. »Oliko tämä, saattoiko tämä olla totta? Oliko
kuninkaan pyhyys tehnyt heittiössä ihmeen? Vai oliko tämä pirullista
teeskentelyä? Käyttikö tuo riettaista riettain väärin puhtaimman
sielun lausumia sanoja?» Näin arvaili ja epäili hovipoika miltei
suunniltaan ja ohimot takoen. Hetket kuluivat. Ilmoitettiin, että
hevoset olivat valmiina, ja kuningas huusi nahkapaitaansa.
Kamaripalvelija ilmestyi vasemmassa kädessä nahkapaita ja
oikeassa kiiltävä haarniska, jonka kaulanaukosta hän piti kiinni.
Hovipoika tempasi häneltä luodinkestävän panssarin ja aikoi auttaa
kuningasta pukeutumaan siihen. Mutta hämmästymättä ollenkaan
hovipoikansa läsnäolosta kieltäytyi Kustaa sitä ottamasta. Hän katsoi
Leubelfingiin sanomattoman ystävällisesti ja silitti tämän kiharaista
tukkaa, kuten hänen tapansa oli. »Gust», sanoi hän, »en voi ottaa
sitä. Se painaa. Anna nahkapaita.»

Kohta senjälkeen lähti kuningas täyttä laukkaa ratsastamaan,

lauenburgilainen ja Leubelfing kintereillään.
V.

Ruotsalaisten taistelulinjan takana olevan Meuchenin kylän

pappilassa istui puoliyön aikaan leskimies, maisteri Todenus
raamattunsa ääressä, lukien taloudenhoitajattarelleen, Ida-rouvalle,
joka oli hento ihminen ja leski hänkin, Davidin katumussalmeja.
Maisteri — muuten asekelpoinen mies, jolla oli karkeat, harmaat
viikset ja jolta pari nuoruusvuotta oli kulunut sotapalveluksessa —
rukoili Ida-rouvan kanssa palavasti protestanttisen sankarin
puolesta, joka vähän matkan päässä olevalla taistelutantereella oli
joko voittanut tai voitettu — kumpaako, hän ei tiennyt. Samalla
ryskytettiin kiivaasti porttia, ja aaveihin uskova Ida-rouva aavisti
saavansa kuulla kuolonsanomia.

Niin olikin. Kun pappi oli avannut portin, horjui häntä vastaan nuori
mies kuolonkalpeana, kuumeisesti tuijottavin silmin, paljain päin,
otsassa ammottava haava. Hänen takanaan nosti toinen hevosen
selästä kuollutta, raskasta miestä. Oudoksi tekevistä haavoista
huolimatta tunsi pappi vainajan Ruotsin kuninkaaksi, jonka tulon
Leipzigiin hän oli nähnyt ja jonka kuva, onnistunut puuveistos, riippui
hänen huoneessaan. Syvästi liikutettuna peitti hän käsin kasvonsa ja
alkoi nyyhkyttää.
 Kuumeisesti toimeliaana ja nopeasti puhuen pyysi haavoittunut
nuorukainen, että hänen kuninkaansa laskettaisi paareille vieressä
olevaan kirkkoon. Ensiksi pyysi hän kuitenkin lämmintä vettä ja
pesusienen pestäkseen kuninkaan verisen ja haavojen peittämän
pään. Toverinsa avulla laski hän vainajan, joka oli hänelle liian
raskas nostaa, vaivaiselle vuoteelle, vaipui itse sille istumaan ja
katseli hellästi vahankalpeita kasvoja. Kun hän aikoi kostuttaa niitä
sienellä, meni hän tajuttomaksi ja liukui pitkälleen vainajan ruumiille.
Hänen toverinsa nosti hänet ylös ja huomasi tarkemmin katsottuaan
paitsi otsassa myös toisen haavan rinnassa. Uudesta repeämästä,
joka oli takissa toisen, sydämen kohdalla olevan paikatun repeämän
vieressä, tihkui verta. Avatessaan varovasti toverinsa pukua,
ruotsalainen kornetti ei uskonut silmiään. »Voi sun peijakas!» änkytti
hän, ja Ida-rouva, joka piteli pesuvatia, punehtui tulipunaiseksi.

Samalla temmattiin ovi auki, ja eversti Åke Tott tuli sisään. Hänen
oli täytynyt muona-asioissa lähteä takaisin, mutta toimitettuaan asiat
hän oli rientänyt heti takaisin taistelukentälle ja, tyhjentäessään lasin
paloviinaa kylätiellä, kapakan edessä, kuullut tarinoitavan
satulassaan horjuvasta ratsastajasta, joka oli pitänyt ruumista
edessään hevosen selässä.

»Onko se totta, onko se mahdollista?» huusi hän, syöksyi

kuninkaansa luo ja tarttui hänen käteensä, johon hänen kyyneleensä
alkoivat valua. Kääntyessään hetken kuluttua hän huomasi
nuorukaisen, joka oli pitkällään tajuttomana lepotuolissa.
»Helvetissä», huusi hän vihaisena, »pitipäs tuon Gustelin sittenkin
takertua kuninkaaseensa!»

»Näin tämän nuoren herran, tämän toverini», huomautti kornetti

varovasti, »täyttä laukkaa ratsastavan yli taistelukentän kuollut
kuningas edessään hevosen selässä. Hän on uhrannut henkensä
kuninkaan tähden!»

»Minun tähtenipäs», keskeytti hänet pitkä mies, jolla oli vanhan

naisen kasvot. Se oli kauppaherra Laubfinger. Periäkseen
melkoisen, sodan kautta vaaraan joutuneen velan oli hän rohjennut
lähteä turvallisesta Leipzigistä ja epäröiden lähestynyt
taistelutannerta. Jouduttuaan muonarattaita täyteen ahdetulle
kylätielle koetti hän saavuttaa everstin saadakseen häneltä
turvallisuuskirjan. Sydän pelkkää kiitollisuutta ja vapautuksen
tunnetta täynnä hän kertoi läsnäoleville juurta jaksain perheensä
historian. »Gustel, Gustel», itki hän, »vieläkö tunnet serkkusi? Miten
voin maksaa sinulle, mitä olet puolestani tehnyt?»

»Sillä, herrani, että pidätte kuononne kiinni!» ärjäsi eversti hänelle.

Pappi astui väliin ja puhui rauhallisesti ja vakavasti: »Arvoisat

läsnäolijat, te tunnette tämän maailman. Se on häväistyshalua
täynnä.» Ida-rouva huokasi. »Ja varsinkin silloin, kun jalo ja suuri
mies ajaa jaloa, suurta asiaa. Jos pieninkään epäluulo himmentäisi
tätä muistoa», hän osoitti äänetöntä kuningasta, »minkä taruhenkilön
tekisikään herjausjanoinen paavilaisuus sääskiraukasta», hän osoitti
tajutonta hovipoikaa, »joka on polttanut siipensä maineen
auringossa! Yhtä varma kuin olemassaolostani olen siitä, ettei
kuningas-vainaja tiennyt tästä tytöstä mitään.»

»Samoin minä, herra pastori», vakuutti eversti, »minäkin olen siitä

yhtä varma kuin autuudestani, uskon kautta ilman lain töitä».

»Varmasti», vahvisti Laubfinger. »Muuten olisi kuningas lähettänyt

hänet pois ja etsityttänyt minua.»
 »Voi sun peijakas», päivitteli kornetti ja Ida-rouva huokasi.

»Minä olen sanan palvelija, te, herra eversti, olette harmaapäinen,

te, kornetti aatelismies, se koskee teidän etuanne ja hyötyänne,
herra Laubfinger, Ida-rouvasta minä takaan: me emme siitä hiisku.»

Hovipoika avasi kuolevat silmänsä. Hänen katseensa harhaili

pelokkaasti ympäri huonetta ja pysähtyi Åke Tottiin: »Kummityttösi ei
totellut sinua, ei voinut… olen suuri syntinen.»

»Hourailette», keskeytti hänet pappi ankarana. »Olette hovipoika

August Leubelfing, nürnbergiläisen patriisin, kauppaherra Arbogast
Leubelfingin avioliitossa sinä ja sinä päivänä syntynyt poika,
kuolemaan vaipunut marraskuun seitsemäntenä päivänä tuhat
kuusisataa kolmekymmentä kaksi Lützenin taistelussa päivää ennen
saamistaan haavoista, pugnans cum rege Gustavo Adolpho.»
[»Taistellen kuningas Kustaa Adolfin kanssa.»]

»Fortiter pugnans» [»taistellen urhoollisesti»], korjasi kornetti

innoissaan.

»Näin kirjoitan minä hautakiveenne. Sopikaa nyt Jumalanne

kanssa. Hetkenne on tullut.» Maisteri ei saattanut kokonaan
karkoittaa tylyyttä äänestään. Vaikka hovipoika oli jo eroamaisillaan
maailmasta, ei hän voinut muuta kuin paheksua tämän lapsen
seikkailuhalua, joka oli saattanut hänen sankarinsa maineen
vaaraan.

»En voi vielä kuolla, minulla on vielä paljon sanomista!» korisi

hovipoika. »Kuningas… sumussa… lauenburgilaisen kuula…»
kuolema sulki hänen huulensa, mutta se ei voinut estää hänen
sammuvaa katsettaan vielä kerran etsimästä kuninkaan kasvoja.
 Jokainen läsnäolevista teki oman johtopäätöksensä ja täydensi
lauseen omalla tavallaan. Mielenmalttinsa säilyttävä pappi, jonka
isänmaanrakkautta loukkasi ajatus, että saksalainen ruhtinas olisi
salaa murhannut Saksan ja — mikä merkitsi hänelle samaa —
protestanttisuuden asian pelastajan, kehoitti hartaasti heitä kaikkia
hovipojan mukana laskemaan hautaan tämän katkelman puheesta,
jonka kuolema oli särkenyt.

Kun August Leubelfingin kohtalo oli ratkaistu ja hän makasi

elotonna kuninkaansa vieressä, nyyhkytti Laubfinger: »Koska
serkkuni nyt on mennyt ikuisuuteen ja tulee kysymys perinnöstä,
otan minä toki oman nimeni takaisin?» ja hän loi ympärillä oleviin
kysyvän silmäyksen. Maisteri Todenus katseli uljaan nürnbergittären
viattomia kasvoja, joiden ilme oli onnellinen. Ankara mies ei voinut
vastustaa liikutuksen tunnetta. Hän ratkaisi asian: »Ette ota! Te
saatte pysyä Laubfingerinä. Teidän nimellenne tulee kunnia päästä
jalon tytön hautapatsaaseen, tytön, joka vielä kuolemassaankin
rakasti ylevää sankaria. Te olette pelastanut kalleimman
omaisuutenne, rakkaan elämänne. Tyytykää siihen.»

Kirkko lukittiin ja teljettiin kiinni ihmistulvan takia. Huhu, että

kuninkaan ruumis oli siinä, oli levinnyt nopeasti. Ruumiit pestiin ja
pantiin paareille kirkon holviin. Päivä oli jo valjennut. Kun kirkon ovet
avattiin kansanjoukolle, joka kärsimättömänä mutta
kunnioittavannäköisenä tunkeili sisään, lepäsivät ruumiit kahdella
paarilla alttarin edessä, kuningas ylempänä, hovipoika alempana ja
päinvastaiseen suuntaan, niin että hänen päänsä oli kuninkaan
jalkojen kohdalla. Aamuauringon säde — edellisen päivän sumua oli
seurannut sininen, pilvetön taivas — hiipi matalasta kirkonikkunasta
sisään ja kirkasti sankarin kasvot, säästyipä vieno heijastus
hovipojankin kiharaiselle päälle.
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