Time and Again(27)
The pencil and notebook got it all down. There are lots of priests in New York, it could have been any of them, but his senses were telling him it was Father Patrick.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was 6:00 when Henry decided to visit the residence of Dr. Schaeffer. He had been too busy to call Marian, though he was curious if she had found anything about the anti-thingy.
Hans answered the door. Both Henry and Hans were caught off guard. In the briefest of moments between shock and things getting out of hand, Henry decided to explain what he knew. It was possible that Henry had just stumbled upon a major piece of the puzzle, the same piece which he was expecting to meet with the next day at noon. It also crossed his mind that the expression on Hans’ face, had made a slight shift from surprise to distrust, and it looked like anger was just around the corner.
“Hans, I had no I idea I would find you here. I am following up on an old case, and just today was told that Dr. Schaeffer was an expert on art. I hope you don’t think…”
“Mr. Wood, I find this to be highly irregular. We have a meeting scheduled for noon tomorrow, and now I am not sure…”
A voice in the back could be heard, but was only clear to Hans; Henry couldn’t make out what had been said. Hans had stopped talking, and then responded, “Yes, Doctor. Please follow me, Mr. Wood.”
Henry was immediately aware he was walking through a home unlike any he had ever seen. The décor was late 19th century wealthy-beyond-imagination, with a nod towards, early 18th century opulence.
Henry was shown to the dining room, where Dr. Schaeffer was standing by his Victrola. The man was removing the needle from Wagner’s Die Feen. He carefully took off the record and returned it to its sleeve. Dr. Schaeffer then made another selection. When the music began, he spoke to Henry.
“I hope you don’t mind a little music.”
“I like music, though I don’t know this piece.”
“It is by a 19th century Russian composer and pianist by the name of Anton Rubinstein. Will you stay for dinner?”
Henry expected to ask him a few questions, but the aromas emanating from the kitchen were too enticing to resist. Hans stiffened at the request, but eased up when Dr. Schaeffer gave him a quick glance.
“Thank you, I believe I will, if it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
“Not at all Mr. Wood, though…where are my manners? I have not properly introduced myself. I gathered from the brief conversation at the door that you must be the detective Henry Wood. I am Dr. Schaeffer… welcome to my home.”
Henry shook his hand, looking him straight in the eye. One can learn a lot about a person if one looks them in the eye, especially when they first meet. Henry learned nothing, and made mental a note to never play poker with Dr. Schaeffer.
The three of them took seats and a place was set for Henry. Dr. Schaeffer seemed to know the questions before they could be asked, so he did most of the talking. It was a long narrative about his home, with a little bit about Hans. He didn’t really touch on why Hans had come to see him, but as dinner was finishing up, he asked Henry, “Would you like to hear a story?”
Henry had very much enjoyed dinner. Hans had warmed to him and forgiven the intrusion. If the story was half as interesting as the dinner conversation, it would be well worth hearing. “I do like a good story. What is it about?”
“Have you heard of the ‘Antikythera Mechanism’?”
The hairs on the back of Henry’s neck stood up. “I was asked that yesterday. I hadn’t heard of it, but I guess I have now. What is it?”
“Follow me, let’s go into the library.” Dr. Schaeffer gave Hans a look, and Hans made an excuse to leave. Henry followed Dr. Schaeffer to the library. As they entered, a flash of gray fur darted in front of Henry. It startled him, then a black whirling dervish shot between his legs.
“My apologies, Mr. Wood, for Jacob and Wilhelm; they are the true lords of the manor. I have had them both since they were kittens, failed to establish who was in charge, and they naturally assumed it was them. They will likely check you out, possibly give you a disapproving hiss, which shouldn’t be taken personally, and then hide in the piano room. I hope you aren’t allergic?”
“No, I am fine. I almost stepped on the gray one.”
“Yes, he is always under foot. The gray one is Jacob.”
The cats did seem to vanish, though without the hiss. Henry felt they were still watching.
Dr. Schaeffer offered Henry a cigar and brandy, which he gladly accepted. They sat down in the two chairs facing the fire. There was a brief discussion about the brandy.
Dr. Schaeffer was about to begin his story when he noticed that Jacob was on Henry’s lap, and Wilhelm was perched on the top of the chair behind Henry’s head, in pre-nap position. How unusual, he thought.