“When I said we should talk again, she laughed. ‘Isn’t that pushy Kathe enough for you?’ She made fun of me. She wanted to be around a mature man who valued her talent. What does that mean-valued her? She ain’t a…a porcelain vase.”
“But after all that you went to her house?”
He gazed over my shoulder, his face reddening. “After we broke up, I used to wander to her yard…until her uncle chased me away with a shotgun. When Kathe told me that her family locked her in at night, guarded her, and even sent that uncle of hers to and from school, I had to see her. She was a prisoner. Kathe told me she was seeing an older man who promised her a new life away from Appleton, a man with bucks in his pocket, and I got, well, bothered.” His lips trembled. “Edna, I never lost my feelings for her. I wanted her back in my life, and I thought if I talked to her…”
“What were you thinking?”
“I know. It was stupid. I went through the Lempke back fields in the dark, bumping into the chicken coops so that the whole world was alerted, and I threw pebbles against her window. They locked her in at night and the window had bars nailed across it. She could open it a few inches. I thought she’d be happy to see me, the two of us whispering there, the rest of the house asleep. The house dark. But you know what she said to me? ‘Go way. Just go away. I’m getting married. I’m going away. Tomorrow.’ That was crazy-she looked like a nun or something, standing there in this dark robe in the shadows. And then I saw a flash of lantern light behind her, all shaky, and her crazy uncle was there, peering down at me. It was awful. He yelled at me, ‘I kills you, I kills you, bad bad person.’ I panicked and ran away. But as I did, I saw him slap her right across the face. She screamed like a polecat, I tell you. So I ran. You know, I ran and ran. Edna, I just wanted to save her.”
“Jake, you know…” I stopped. There was a shriek behind me. Kathe Schmidt ran lopsidedly, stumbling, toward the gazebo. I expected to see a carpet beater flying in her hand. She’d obviously abandoned her chores at the Ferber backyard. Fannie would be livid and blame me.
“I knew you’d be here, Edna. You’re not a friend.” Her words ended in a scream.
True. We didn’t like each other. An indication of taste on my part, foolishness on hers.
“Jake, she’s a reporter.”
Jake shook his head. “Kathe, she’s one of the people we know.”
Kathe glowered. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing I haven’t told the chief of police.”
“What?”
Jake talked to me. “You know, after my father closed down my interview with Chief Stone, I decided to see him myself. I stopped in at the police station before I came here and told him everything I just told you.”
Decent, this young man. A commendable act, a boy better than his esteemed father.
“You did what?” Kathe yelled.
“It was the right thing to do.”
Kathe was beside herself, swirling around, out of control. “What’s gonna happen to us?” she barked, shoving her face close to his. Jake was watching her with wide and, unfortunately, mournful eyes.
“Frana’s dead.” Tears matched his words. “That just happened.”
The line surprised me. That just happened. What did that mean? Her death was a chance event? Or her death just occurred yesterday? Or he hadn’t planned it but it happened? What was he saying?
Kathe was caught up in a mindless rant. “You know, Jake, you didn’t think I knew about your…your foolishness about that girl. When her name came up, you got quiet and dopey. How was I supposed to feel? You’re with me at the Easter dinner at the Methodist Church, and she walks in, and you start to stammer, can’t take your eyes off her. Think about it, for God’s sake.” She caught her breath. “You know, I wanted her to run away with someone. I really did.”
I interrupted. “Is that why you told folks about her getting on the train with an older man?”
Kathe wanted to stomp me as if I were a bug. “I thought that’s what she did when they couldn’t find her. She told me her plans, Edna. She told me. She said she’d be leaving with a man who said he’d marry her…”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jake was perplexed.
“I keep secrets.”
“Did you know about the note to the school-the whole plan?”
She hesitated, but then shook her head. “I knew she had to get away. She was afraid of her uncle. He was getting crazier and crazier. Her brothers. My God, they nailed bars on her window. They locked her in right after school.”
“They knew about the older man?” I asked.
“She’d told them, throwing it in their face, I guess. That was a mistake. You know, her uncle told her he’d kill her if she didn’t obey the family. They’re old country German Catholics, you know, severe as everything, and she was just too fun loving. They were always beating her. Her brothers…You saw the welts and…”
I was curious. “Are you sure you didn’t know about the note she slipped on Miss Hepplewhyte’s desk?”
Kathe purposely ignored me. She probably helped Frana in her scheme and had something to do with the letter.
Kathe faced Jake. “I just thought, you know, she’d run away.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “You wanted her out of Appleton, Kathe.” Flat out, weary.
Silence. “Well, she wanted to go to New York, Jake. She left you, told you to go away. Here you are, traipsing after her, mooning under her window. How does that make me look? We’re together now. Really. Think about it.” Her tone was more strident, clipped. “Maybe I should tell you goodbye and you’d come crawling around my yard, begging and pleading and bellowing like I don’t know what.” Sharp as glass, that voice of hers. His face flushed, Jake rose, nestled his textbook against his chest and moved away.
“Where are you going?”
“You’re happy she’s dead.”
“Jake…”
“You…you wanted her on that train…away from me.”
“I ain’t to blame. Just because she’s dead.”
“You know, Kathe, I can almost understand your jealousy and all. But not this. You wanted her dead.” Spoken out loud, it became an unwelcome epiphany, hitting home. “Well, she’s not on that train, Kathe. She’s dead. Does that make you happy?” He stormed away.
“Wait,” Kathe cried. “Wait. Come back. I’m sorry, Jake. I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I didn’t plan on it like this. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
Dubious, troubling lines again. Plan what? What was I missing here?
Jake was gone, hidden by a copse of thick holly bushes.
Kathe, teeth clenched, flew at me. “This is all your fault, Edna. Your fault.”
Chapter Nine
Appleton had one big story: the awful murder of the young German girl Frana Lempke. It was everywhere, friends dropping in at the Ferber household and lingering over coffee and cherry-studded Schaumtorte, neighbors talking over back fences, customers at My Store shaking their heads. My wonderful Houdini interview, for a moment the talk of the town, was immediately eclipsed by the gripping account of Frana’s murder. Even the back-to-Jesus street-corner evangelist Mad Otto the Prophet (his name was Hosea Thigpen but long ago someone called him the odd nickname, and it stuck) talked of nothing else. That morning I spotted him standing in a vacant lot on Washington. By noontime, he’d be on College by the Masonic Hall. Most days, and some evenings, he stood on the corner of Lawrence and Cherry, back by the breweries and the railroad tracks, standing on a cabbage crate and screaming Biblical passages at the workers headed to and from their jobs. “Predestination and damnation,” he boomed…“fire and brimstone…the yawning maw of hell…a young innocent taken at the flood…the Doomsday book…the hand of the devil palpable and gripping…God in his awful wrath…”