dressed in dark colors. They were all in slacks and sweaters, and obviously together for mutual assistance. They looked to be about the same age as Edie, and seemed pretty sophisticated.
“Who are they?” I muttered to Lamar. One thing cops will do is check out who comes to the funerals of murder victims. Sometimes it can be very instructive.
“Classmates, I think,” he said. “High school.”
“Ah.” I had purposely “forgotten” to sign the sympathy book at the entrance. This would allow me to go back to sign it later, and check out the names. Cop thing. I made a mental note to check for three women's names in a group.
Lamar and I sort of wandered over to the leather chairs that lined one wall, and stood there, looking somber and wishing we were somewhere else. Hester joined us, and that was a real highlight. Ought to give you some idea.
A few moments later, accompanied by a flash as some intrepid reporter took a photo through the open door, the crew from the Mansion came in. All were in black or a combination of black and dark colors, gray or maroon. Kevin, Huck, and Melissa wore black leather knee-length coats. Toby just had a black leather vest over his maroon turtleneck, and Hanna was carrying a dark green suede jacket. Very presentable, I thought, and the dark colors were certainly appropriate. Granted, they looked rather pale, and the women wore very dark lipstick. So what.
Well, apparently Edie's mother felt otherwise. Even in the muted space of the funeral home, I heard her say something about “the freaks.” Several heads turned toward the five, who were signing the sympathy book. They'd obviously heard, but were choosing not to notice.
Lamar left Hester and me, and went to his sister, to make sure there wasn't a scene. When the five got to them, Lamar set the example, shaking their hands and thanking them for coming. This left his sister with little real choice, although she certainly didn't shake hands.
The five proceeded toward the casket, and stood in a group, and held hands for what seemed a long minute. As they turned, Hanna's hands went to her eyes, and she started to weave. Huck and Melissa escorted her to a chair, while Kevin and Toby came over to Hester and me.
“She all right?” I asked as they passed.
“Fine,” said Toby. “She's fine. So, we're 'freaks,' I hear.”
“Let it ride,” I said.
They continued toward the three girls who had come in together, and who Lamar had identified as Edie's former classmates. Kevin and Toby seemed to be introducing themselves, and making small talk. Good.
Huck approached Hester, and quietly asked if she knew where they might get some aspirin or Tylenol for Hanna. Hester took her to find the funeral director.
So far, not too unusual a wake.
Old Knockle came in, looking distinguished in his uniform. I was impressed. He'd had to take Chester to Maitland, get the bond, and get back here in pretty short time. Since I was now by myself, and he was, too, I waited for him to do the obligatory stop at Lamar, the mother, and then the casket. When his counterclockwise tour brought him to me, I suggested we go to one of the adjoining rooms, where they had coffee and cookies set out.
“Second reason I came, Carl.”
He and I secured two chairs within easy striking distance of the cookies, and started what I assumed would be a fairly bland, time-killing conversation. It did start that way, and I found myself telling him how impressed I was with the Mansion.
As it turned out, he'd helped restore it years ago, and his late uncle had been caretaker for the last members of the original family who had lived there.
“When did they move out?” Bland. Just curious.
“In the late ffities.”
“What did the original owner do, do you know?”
“He was into grain shipping, and mining, and lumber,” he said. “They were into just about anything in this area that could make 'em rich.”
“Worked,” I said.
“Indeed it did,” said Knockle.
“You know, I always wondered why they put it there in the first place.”
Knockle settled in, and I began to suspect I'd bitten off more than I'd intended. “The original owner, a man named Givens, wanted privacy. That old German Kommune had drilled way down, and got a well going before they went belly up. So he had a well ready made. It was close to the mine he owned, just south of there. That silica outfit.”
I nodded. “Didn't they use that to cast fine gears or something?” “For fine glass, originally,” he said. “Sand's got the consistency of grainy flour, produced a fine glass.”
“Ah.”
“The gear casting came later. Fine grain again, didn't have to machine them much after they were cast.”
“Oh.”
“Old man Givens was really a penny-pincher in some ways, though. Used to visit that mine every day, to check things. Then right across to the old steamboat dock, where they loaded his grain. That ain't there no more, 'course. Took that out about 1930. Mine's closed, went out back in the late sixties.”
“Yeah.”
He kept on. It was my fault. I knew Old Knockle talked a lot.
“Old man Givens got so tired of making that trip down to the valley and then over to the river, he had 'em put in some sort of cable car when they was ffxin' up the railroad about 1890 or so. So he could just go straight on down. His wife used to use it, too, to go to Chicago. For culture. Yep, the train stopped right there, if the flag at the stop was up. Had their very own car on the siding. Named the stop Givens' Switch, just for them. Really rich.” He chuckled. “Called the cable car Givens' Railroad, up here in Freiberg.”
That got my attention. I leaned well forward. “What happened to the cable car?”
“I don't truly know,” he said. “I seem to remember hearin' that they'd replaced it with something, but if I ever heard what, I forgot it by now. There's nothin' there now, I can tell you that. We were all over that hillside yesterday.” He smiled, and got up to get another cookie. “Don't get yourself all excited, Carl. Want another cookie?”
“Sure.” While he got them, I was thinking that, while the cable car might not be there, there surely had to have been a path down the bluff at that point. Had to be. Maybe trees had grown over it, but leveled ground could enable a faster passage…
He sat back down and handed me my cookie. “You know, did you see those big bolts in the wall, upstairs on the second floor?”
“What? Uh, no, no I didn't.”
“You know,” he said, “that big old house was built in two parts. Halves. The north side was built first. They added a matching south side some ten years after the north side was ffnished. Secured the two halves together with big railroad shafts and bolts. Just like the courthouse in Maitland.”
I'd seen the bolts in the courthouse. “Oh, yeah, the big bolts.”
“The ones in the house are covered by big lizards.” He thought a second. “No, dragons.”
“Gargoyles?”
“Yeah. That's it.”
Now he had me going. “How did you know they were bolts, then? Was that common?”
“Coulda been, but I seen some of the blueprints for the house, at the historical society.”
“Oh.” Blueprints. “Here in Freiberg?”
“Oh, no, nope. Not here. Over in Lake Geneva, in Wisconsin, where the family moved. When they had too much money to spend here,” he said with a grin. “It's all donated to their historical society over there.”
“In Wisconsin… that makes sense,” I said. It did. It also made sense that it was out of my jurisdiction and I wanted to see it. “When did you see that?”
“The blueprints? Oh,” he said, “maybe ten, fifteen years back, I think. When Emma and I went in to Madison for her mother's funeral. Maybe twelve?” He nodded vigorously. “Twelve. Yep, twelve. We took a swing down to the
