Ursula looked up from a bench in the front hall where she was reading her Bible. Her eyes glanced over Simon and she stood, searching behind him, looking for that familiar face; looking for her brother. Finding only Sergeant Hoch and the elderly pastor, slowly her eyes returned to Simon. He steeled himself to face her, and he grieved when she saw the hat clutched in his hands and the light in her eyes began to die.
“Hans?”
“Won’t be coming home, Ursula. Ever.”
Her face crumbled. Tears began to flow. She stood there, bereft, unable to move. Simon went to her and for all that she was years older than he was drew her into an embrace with his one arm. She began to sob brokenly as her tears drenched his shirt.
“Shh, shh,” Simon said. He didn’t know how to comfort her. “I’m here.”
Over Ursula’s bowed head Simon looked out the door and made two vows.
He knew he could never replace Hans, but he would be a brother to Ursula. That vow he made in his heart to her.
The second vow was made to Hans. I’m not a hero, not a Samson. I can’t do what you did. But maybe like the lad in the Bible story I can help you bring down a temple. If I pick at the walls and take the mortar I find to Lieutenant Chieske, sooner or later the walls will crumble. I can’t be a Samson, but maybe I can be an Ehud, a left-handed sneak. For you, Hans, I will try.
Chapter 64
Demetrious stirred when the one-eyed man began to move again. There was no doubt in his mind. The man was following the big merchant. That would be of interest to the lieutenant, he thought. Why he was following the merchant was a question Demetrious could not answer.
He shrugged. That would be for the lieutenant to discover.
Demetrious started following his target.
* * *
Marla strode into the backstage area, followed by Franz.
Amber looked up from a conversation with Frau Frontilia at the stage manager’s desk. “You’re early,” she remarked.
“Yep,” Marla threw back over her shoulder. “Couldn’t stand the waiting.”
Amber chuckled, and turned back to Frau Frontilia.
Marla headed for the dressing area. “Hey, Sophie,” she called out as she walked through the door. “We ready?”
Her dresser looked up from where she was hanging costumes on the wall. “Yes, Frau Marla,” she said with a smile. “The costumes have been cleaned and pressed and are now hung up in the order you will need them.”
“Great.”
Marla hung her coat on a nearby peg, then pulled her Zippo lighter out and lit the wicks of the two oil lamps that sat on her makeup table flanking the small mirror. The overhead lights were electric, but she wanted a little more light on her face while she was applying her makeup. Then she turned to Franz and put her arms around his neck.
“You, my good sir, may be good to go in your formal duds, but I’ve got over an hour’s work to do to get ready.” She gave him a hard kiss, then released him. “So be off with you to your orchestra pit.”
Franz cupped her cheek, and she leaned into the caress.
“Sing well,” he said.
“Always.”
After Franz left, Marla stripped off her shirt and jeans. She was wearing her old black dancer’s tights and leotard, which showed off her figure very well indeed to Sophie, whose eyes widened a bit.
Marla chuckled. “I know,” she said, “it’s probably a bit revealing. But after all the rehearsals, I’ve decided that if I’m going to be skinning in and out of costumes all night I can’t have bulky underclothes on. These will help me preserve at least an illusion of modesty, and a little bit of warmth as well.”
She pulled out a stool from under the table, and sat down. Sophie draped a towel around Marla’s shoulders. She opened the makeup case, leaned forward into the light, and began applying her makeup.
* * *
Friedrich von Logau looked up from his notepad and pulled out his pocket watch. He and his friends had reconvened at Walcha’s after freshening their attire. He looked across the table to his friends.
“Well, if we desire to stand around outside the opera house so that we can be seen by all to be in the best company, we had best leave. Drink up.”
They all drained their cups in unison, set them down, and got to their feet.
* * *
Simon didn’t say anything when Gotthilf left. He looked around to see Pastor Gruber, Frau Marie and Fraulein Margarethe all sitting with Ursula, trying to comfort her. They could do more for her than he could. But his comfort would come from knowing that Schardius was being dealt with, so he slipped out of the room and out of the house and followed Gotthilf down the street.
* * *
“Here you go, boys,” Byron said as Gotthilf handed one of the signed warrants to Karl Honister and Kaspar Peltzer. “Sorry to pull you off your other cases, but we need Schardius’ house and office searched today. You guys take his house, Gotthilf and I will take his office. Take a couple of patrolmen with you, and send word immediately if you find anything.”