Grantville Gazette. Volume XX (ring of fire) Read online

  " Ja, Herr Hart," Juergen said, "I think we have heard all we need from you. You and your brother are free to go. Some one will be out to look at the camp trailer you rented to Herr Grun." Then Juergen used the line he had been saving since he heard it in that old television show. "Don't leave town."

  Ape just shook his head, "Come on Monkey, we're out of here."

  Juergen had a strong desire to wash his hands. But his thoughts were interrupted when Marvin said, "Idiots. We're overrun with idiots. They just made my day complete, the idiots." Marvin was fuming.

  "Calm down, Marvin. Who was it that told me to always stay calm and collected? I remember that was you."

  "You're right. I did say that. Well, we can't let idiots spoil our day." Marvin almost screamed the word idiots and punched the wall next to the door.

  "Feel better now?"

  "Yes, I do. Let's go tell the chief what we have."

  ***

  They found Chief Frost in conference with another man.

  "Boys this is uh… Herr Smith. He's with the Army. He's here to tell us about that note book you found."

  The first thought that went through Juergen's mind was 'spy' then he realized it was 'spy catcher.'

  Marvin was more outspoken. " With the Army, but not in the Army, Herr Smith?"

  Herr Smith laughed. "Well, Chief, you told me they were smart. Yes, I am with the Army, but not a soldier. As you seem to have guessed that I have the honor of working for Don Francisco."

  "Boys, have a seat." Chief Frost waved to the two empty chairs. "Herr Smith has been telling me some interesting things about the body we have over at the Medical Center."

  "Was he a spy?" Juergen had to ask.

  "Yes, and a rather inept one," Herr Smith said. "It was rather silly to keep his code key with his notes. In fact, it is rather embarrassing that we didn't catch on to him sooner."

  "We've figured out he was after how to make fulminate of mercury," Marvin said. Then he told Chief Frost and Herr Smith about the interview with the Hart brothers.

  "Yes! That explains it," Herr Smith exclaimed. "He had the entire process for making the stuff in his notes. It looks like we're going to take a closer look at the Hart brother's activities."

  Juergen smiled. It was nice to know that Ape and Monkey were soon to get a visit from Army Intelligence.

  "Herr Smith, can you just lay out all you know about Herr Grun," Marvin asked. "The way we're going, this is going to take some time."

  Herr Smith smiled; Juergen noticed his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Ah yes, Heinrich Grun, as you call him was really a Frenchman. From some papers we found in the lining of his pack, his name was really Henri Vert. It was another mark of his ineptness to just translate his name to German. He was sent to Grantville to find out how to make percussion caps."

  "By the French?" Juergen asked.

  "Well, he might have tried to sell his information to the French, but the person who sent him was an Italian."

  "An Italian? Which Italians? What are there, ten or twenty countries in Italy now?" Marvin interjected.

  " Nein, he was not sent by a country. He was sent by an Italian gun maker; one Giovan Antonio Beretta from Brescia, in the Republic of Venice. It seems Herr Beretta wants to know how to make better guns."

  Marvin's hand dropped down to touch the Beretta in his holster. "Yeah, I guess he would."

  "So," Chief Frost asked, "what we have is a case of industrial espionage gone bad?"

  "Yes, Chief Frost. Exactly," Herr Smith said with another of his half smiles. "It is not really my business, but I am glad to be of help. I hope you will keep me informed."

  The Chief's phone rang; the others in the room were only able to hear one side of the conversation. "He is? Well, tell him we'll be right over." Frost hung up the phone, then looked at Marvin. "That was the Medical Center. Doc Adams just finished the autopsy and he wants to give us the results in person. Herr Smith, if you like you can tag along."

  ***

  Doctor Adams was standing beside the sheet covered body. He started his presentation as soon as the door closed. "Well, you gave me an interesting case this time. I haven't seen anything like this for years. In fact, the last time must have been in the first couple of years I was in medicine. That time, it was a miner who had a bad habit of carrying blasting caps in his shirt pocket."

  The chief interrupted. "Doc, are you saying he was killed with blasting caps?"

  "No, Chief. Your man was killed by a snuff can." When he saw the perplexed looks on their faces, the doctor continued. "Look here." He held out a metal tray covered with small bits of material. "This is all bits and pieces of plastic I removed from the wound. If you look close you can see the paper is still attached to some of them." Juergen leaned closer, he could see a bit of print on one of the pieces. It formed the letters Sk.

  Doc Adams nodded. "My best guess is that your man here was carrying something explosive in a plastic snuff can. Not much use for them after the tobacco is gone. He might have been using it for storage. Anyway, he jarred or crushed it enough and it exploded."

  "Doc, would mercury fulminate do it?" Marvin asked.

  "Yes, and it fits in with the scorching on his clothing. Those burns on his hands are older and are acid burns. From what I know about making fulminate, it fits."

  "Herr Doctor, if this man was carrying the fulminate inside his coat and fell getting off a tramcar, would that cause it to explode?" Juergen asked.

  "Son, you get enough fulminate in one place, it can explode just from looking at it. Falling on it is sure to set it off."

  "Thanks, Doc. You solved our case for us," Chief Frost commented. "Now, if we can find a quiet corner with a desk we'll finish up and be on our way."

  "Use my office. It's just up the hall and it's unlocked."

  ***

  "It looks like we're going to have to write this one off as 'Death by Misadventure,'" Chief Frost said. "Though, it would be more accurate to call it 'Death by Stupidity,' but I don't think we should put that in the report."

  Then the chief looked up from the papers in front of him and saw the look on Marvin and Juergen's faces. "Boys, you did a good job. No one could have done better and everyone will know you did well, because you're now my official investigators. Juergen, sew a stripe on your sleeve, you're a patrolman first class, and Marvin, you're a sergeant."

  "Well, it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick," Marvin said after the chief and Herr Smith had left.

  ***

  As they were leaving the Medical Center, Juergen walked over to the front desk. "Fraulein, can you tell us anything about Nancy O'Reilly? She was brought in with a new baby."

  The receptionist ruffled through the papers in front of her and answered with a smile. "Mother and son are doing well. He was a fine healthy boy; eight pounds, nine ounces."

  Juergen and Marvin smiled, then turned to leave.

  "Officers," the receptionist called. "Were you the ones who brought her in?" When Marvin nodded she handed him a note. "Nancy made me promise to give you this if you stopped by to ask about her."

  Marvis read the note and grinned. "This is what makes police work worth doing. Mrs. O'Reilly thanks us for this afternoon." When Juergen smiled, he continued, "Oh, by the way, she named the boy Sam. Samuel Juergen O'Reilly."

  Juergen just stood there with a stunned look on his face.

  "You know," Marvin commented, "this has turned out to be one damn fine day after all."

  ***

  A Bell for St. Vasili's

  Keith Robertsson

  November, 1633

  " Ux Te!" Kseniya hadn't at all expected what she was seeing.

  When Princess Natalia Petrovna hired Father Gavril to come to Grantville and set up a church for the people who were coming to study, she'd mentioned that her brother Vladimir had bought a home. She'd even put Kseniya "on salary" as the housekeeper, since Kseniya would of course come to Grantville with her husband.

  But,
a home wasn't supposed to be the size of the Kremlin.

  March, 1634, The Rezidentz' Kitchen Office

  Kseniya slammed the pen on the desk. " Durag nummers."

  Though Kseniya was a merchant's daughter and had been raised to expect a certain level of comfort and the responsibility that went with it, she was never expected to manage what amounted to a small business on her own. Hadn't her father married her off to a priest with the prospects of good parishes? The Grantville rezidentz was big, as big as one of these up-timer hotels. Impossible for one woman to handle, simply impossible.

  Prince Vladimir had gone all out. The house-if house was the proper term at all-covered what she'd learned to call a "block." It was built to take advantage of natural light, two rooms and a hall wide, and two stories high, on each wing. The four wings made a large square, with a private garden in the center. A large private garden. Some of it was given over to decorative gardens, some was kitchen garden, and they had some chickens for eggs. The back wing was the stables and residential area for some of the servants, the east wing was offices, the west rooms for guests. The south wing was formal reception rooms, more offices and the private quarters for the prince. And his soon-to-be bride, Brandy Bates.

  As she was ruminating, a knock came on the door to her cubbyhole office.

  "Hi, Mrs. Kotova," said the young lady at the door. "Do you have a moment? I need to borrow some of your brains."

  "Good afternoon, Gospazha Brandy," Kseniya said. "My time is your time. But are you sure you need to speak to me?" In the months that Kseniya had been in residence, she'd grown close to Brandy and liked the young woman quite a bit.

  "Well, Mrs. K, if there's another female Russian in this house who's older than me, tell me who she is," Brandy said.

  " Nu, if you make those qualifications, I'm the only one in the rezidentz or Grantville who fits them," Kseniya said. "Tell me why do you need to 'borrow' some of my brains? I didn't know I had any to spare."

  "It goes back to something I heard years ago. If you don't have a lot of brain power but are a good judge of character, you can always borrow or hire the brains. It's a matter of being able to trust your sources."

  "Thank you, moiya gospazha, for your confidence in me," Kseniya said. "From the sound of it, I think we need a pot of tea. Pardon me for a moment."

  ***

  When Kseniya returned to her seat, Brandy took a deep breath and plunged into her not-so carefully planned presentation.

  "Mrs. K., I feel like a stranger in a strange land. I love Vladimir to pieces and I can't think of life without him. But sometimes, I think I'm about to go nuts here. I don't know enough Russian, for one thing. Then there's running this house. It's not a house. It's enormous. I'm a reference librarian, not Martha Stewart. I don't know how to manage a household the size of Kudzu Werke. Like Charlie Brown used to say, ' Arrgh.'"

  Somewhere, in her venting, Brandy started to cry. Not much, just a few sniffles and enough moisture to cause a need of a handkerchief.

  Maria, the maid, arrived then with their refreshments. While Brandy snuffled, Kseniya got up and took the tray, motioning for Maria to leave quickly. She was relieved that she wasn't the only person who was having problems with this situation.

  " Oy, you do have some problems, don't you? But we're in the same boat, I'm afraid. I wasn't trained for this, either. Your first problem is easy to solve. I can help you with your Russian; you can help me with my English and German."

  "Okay," Brandy said. She stopped sniffling and picked up a cup of the tea Kseniya poured. "That will help a lot."

  "I agree with you about your other problems. You'll be the gospazha of the household. As that, you have a staff working for you. Right now, Gregorii is your major domo. He's reporting directly to the prince. While my husband is your chaplain, I am the head of the kitchen and female staff. But, like you, I am in over my head," Kseniya said.

  "We'll just have to figure something out. Do you have any ideas?"

  "I'm not really trained to run a kitchen of this size. It's not just the cooking… that I can do. It's also the buying from the different sellers. And I'm not used to all these modern conveniences. I grew up cooking on an open hearth and in a pech, a big stove… not like the cook stove we have here."

  "We need help. Let's think about it and do some investigating. Right now, though, I have to go see Vlad. He got another batch of letters from home. And from the czar. And the bureaus. And, and, and!" Brandy threw her hands in the air. "It never stops."

  "In that case, you must be on your way. S' Bogom… go with God."

  " S' Bogom, Kseniya," Brandy said. "Oh, yeah… could you please send Maria to the office with something to eat in about a half hour?"

  "Of course, Branya." Kseniya was still surprised by the offhanded politeness of the up-timers she'd met.

  ***

  "Come on in, Brandy," Vladimir called.

  The couple embraced and exchanged a kiss or two.

  Brandy whispered, " Ya lublu tebya."

  "Your pronunciation is getting better. Who's been teaching my girl Russian?"

  Brandy said, "Mrs. Kotova and Vladimir Troshin."

  "I thought I knew all of the Russians in Grantville. Most of them live in this building. Who is this Troshin?" Vladimir asked, putting on his Rezident's hat.

  "A singer on a record I borrowed from Ms. Mailey's collection," Brandy said. "While she's in England, Dr. Nichols is house-sitting for her. He lent it to me."

  "You learned Russian from a singer?"

  "At least the pronunciation," Brandy said. "The record is all Russian big band music."

  "We'll have to listen to it when I go into Grantville Saturday. I want to hear your other Vladimir," Vladimir said.

  "Sure thing. I think you'll like it. 'Sides it's danceable. But enough about music. What came in today's mail?"

  "Mostly the usual contradictory stuff, one office not telling the other what I sent them, so the other writes asking for information I sent months ago. Here's a stack of inquiries. I've made marginal translations for you."

  Taking their seats on either side of a partner's desk, the pair set to work. A soft knock came at the study door. Maria had arrived with the tea tray.

  " Mein Herr und Fraulein, where do you want the tray?" said Maria.

  "Here, please, Maria," Brandy said.

  Maria placed the tray on the indicated empty spot on the desk.

  "Thank you," Brandy said. "Dear, do you want honey on your biscuit?"

  " Da," Vladimir said, deep in a piece of what was probably arrant nonsense that needed a diplomatic answer.

  Brandy gave the stack of correspondence a glare, then repressed a sigh. Might as well get it done.

  ***

  "Vlad, it's getting on to six o'clock. I need to get back into town."

  "Do you really need to go?" asked Vladimir.

  Laughing at Vlad's oft repeated query, Brandy said, "I told you I won't have breakfast in this house until after the wedding. Cora would be sure to spread the news all over Grantville. Besides, I'm meeting the girls at Tyler's tonight. Dinner and a brain picking session."

  "What do you mean 'brain picking session?"

  "I talked to Mrs. Kotova this afternoon. I found out I need to get my ducks in a row if I am going to be the gospazha here, "Brandy said. "The girls know folks I don't. And I know folks they don't."

  "If you must, you must," Vlad said. "But I'll be glad when the day comes that you don't." He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

  Brandy laughed again. "Just hold your horses, fella. It'll happen soon enough. S' Bogom, honey."

  The next Monday afternoon

  "Miss Garrett, this lady is Mrs. Kseniya Kotova. Mrs. Kotova, this is Tate Garret," Brandy said.

  As Brandy closed the door, Kseniya gave Tate a once over. She was short for an up-timer, maybe five and four of their feet and inches, solidly built, not too skinny and not too fat, with short, muddy-colored blond hair. And a look of leadership
in her eyes.

  "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Kotova," said Tate.

  "As am I," Kseniya said, a bit flustered. The girl was much younger than she'd expected.

  "Tate, we've got a problem. And I think you're the solution to it," Brandy said. "I asked some people I know and your name came up as some one with the needed skills and experience."

  Tate looked startled. "Skills and experience? Brandy… Miss Bates, I'm the junior assistant manager at the Willard Hotel. What do I know that you can use?"

  "We know that. How big do you think Grantville is?" Brandy grinned.

  Brandy wasn't being nearly as formal as Kseniya thought she should be with a possible future employee. Up-timers were very odd that way. "Miss Garrett, we know where you presently work. Gospazha Brandy knows of your education and where you planned on going to school after graduation. Someplace called Johnson and Wales… and something called hospitality arts?"

  "Boy, you ladies really do know about me. Are you sure there's no KGB agents stationed here?"

  Brandy laughed. "Who needs the KGB when you've got the Barbie Consortium? We need someone to help Mrs. Kotova. And me, for that matter. You'll be chef de cuisine and other duties as assigned. This place is like a hotel, only with both permanent residents and transient guests. Not to mention, you'll have a wedding to cater in the not-too-distant future. We are also taking you on because you know the food suppliers in West Virginia County. What do you think? Want a job?"

  "Good night, Brandy! Most chefs have to spend years to get the position you're offering. You're darn right I want it," Tate said.

  "Good to have you with us." Brandy grinned and extended her hand.

  " Da," Kseniya said. "I'm happy to have the help."

  Three weeks later

  To the casual observer, the kitchen looked the same as it did a month ago. However, Kseniya saw minor yet practical changes. Over in at the baker's station, Maria was weighing out the ingredients for the afternoon's baking. The prince liked warm fresh baked goods on his supper table. He'd even fallen in love with American-style fruit pies for his dessert. So, he was happy. Everyone else was eating better and she was staying inside her kitchen budget. For that, Kseniya decided to stop by the makeshift chapel and light three candles before the icon of St. Vasili. Her thinking was interrupted by a shout.