Chapter 10

"Mrs. Teague, what's happening? There are people inside killing each other!"

"No, Mr. Goldman, the people inside are not killing each other. They're already dead. They have been for years."

"What are you talking about? They're right inside. One of them just chased me out the service entrance. He was the size of a house! I watched him kill three people and he was trying to kill me!"

"Duncan Kessler, yes."

"What do you mean, 'Yes'?! I just said he killed three people and chased me out the door, and all you have to say is 'Yes'?"

The Sheriff spoke, "Mr. Goldman, if you'll give us a chance to explain..."

"Explain then!"

Mrs. Teague went on, "Stephen, the Kessler family reunion isn't a normal event."

"Yeah, I'll say!"

"Sir, please."

"Okay, sorry. Go on."

"In 1947, the Kesslers rented the Adler for their very first reunion. Almost every one of them came from Germany and Austria, having escaped the Nazis. The reunion, wasn't just for the Kessler family, though. The Weider family also came--those who survived. The Jewish Weiders were disbursed around German camps and hiding throughout Europe. The German Kesslers spread the word through the family that they were trying to locate as many Weiders as possible, and doing whatever it took to get them to America. The two families were reunited after years of separation from the beginning of the war. Most of the Weiders were killed by the Nazis. The reunion was as emotional as it was grand."

"Okay..."

"On the day of the reunion, Louis Adler had the carpets cleaned, along with as many other cleaning services they could fit into the day. Back then, the cleaning industry wasn't well regulated, and the combination of chemicals used to clean the carpet and other surfaces created a mild type of mustard gas, along with a strong psychedelic agent which caused the entire hotel to become a crime scene. As the Kesslers and Weiders slept, their minds were bent by the gases. The staff were able to get fresh air outside as they began to complain about headaches, but the guests were exposed in their rooms, thinking the effects were from too much alcohol during the evening.

"The much weaker Weiders were no match for their counterparts. They were the first to die, though the brutality didn't end there. Every man, woman, and child..."

"Dear God, the children."

"...became murderous... beasts."

"How is it possible I've never heard about this?"

"The village had just become a luxury resort destination with five-star hotels and celebrities visiting from all over the country. The last thing the people wanted was to have the news of the massacre getting out. It would destroy the entire town."

"But the people who died..."

"Two entire families wiped out in a single night. There was no one to file a complaint."

"Except for one," the Sheriff added.

"Yes, there was one survivor--the girl--Gretchen Weider. Gerd Kessler had sneaked her and her brothers and sister out of Germany before the war, claiming they were his children. They'd moved to Denmark, then to America."

"How do you know all this?"

"I was a hairdresser in the hotel's salon at the time. I met many of them the day of the tragedy, and Gretchen the day before. She and her sister had come a day early. No one knows why she survived. She wouldn't say where she was or who she was with that night, but when she returned, her entire family was gone--both of them."

My heart dropped.

"Gretchen's father, Bernard, was located in Austria a few years later. Gretchen arranged for him and his new wife to come to America. They ended up buying the Adler from Louis after a few years living in Miami.

"The chemical company paid her a fortune for her extraordinary loss... and to keep quiet about it. She was to be married to one of the Kesslers, and they'd already filed the paperwork. For all the lawyers knew, she was already married--the sole survivor and sole recipient of the entire Kessler fortune, which was quite substantial as Gerd had invested wholeheartedly in American steel and munitions companies to help their war effort.

"She put the bulk of the money into a bank account, and insisted, if she was to promise not to speak of the event, the hotel would promise to clear the books for two days every time the carpets were cleaned, and the staff would be handsomely compensated, when the bank paid for the rooms, for their time away from work. Louis agreed, the town agreed, the staff agreed, and no one spoke a word of it for fear of losing everything. Once the cleaning chemicals were no longer a threat, Ms. Weider insisted on booking one room for herself, and she always comes a day early."

"Are you ready to go inside, Mr. Goldman?"

"I don't know. I guess."

We entered the front doors. Nothing was out of place. There were no bodies, no blood, no decorations, no strings of lights. The banquet hall was empty--all the tables and chairs stacked on stage to make room for the cleaners--right where Tommy Mericle and his crew had stacked them. There was no music, no screaming, no rampaging guests. But the most noticeable absence was no pleated skirt, no waistcoat, no gloves or hat.

"There was a girl," I eked, "She was real." I thought maybe she was the survivor.

"I'm afraid not, Stephen."

"But she showed up in a taxi..."

"Gretchen showed up in a taxi, yes."

It was then she walked into the foyer. We watched her come slowly around the corner from the main hall. The skirt, waistcoat, and hat--just as she'd worn since she arrived. I hurried to meet her. But, it wasn't her.

"Gretchen? Is that your name?"

"Yes."

She was every bit as lovely, dressed the same, but easily twice the age of the girl I thought she was when she came around the corner. The look on my face told her everything.

"You saw her? My sister?"

"I think so." Tears streamed down my face.

"What was she like? Was she happy?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think she was very, very happy. We went on a pedal boat. Wait! We went on a pedal boat!" I exclaimed to the deputies and Mrs. Teague. I wiped my face as if it wasn't too late for them to see me bawling. "Clint Clausen's pond, across the highway! We were there! Mr. Clausen and his kids saw us together--he'll tell you!"

"Son, Mr. Clausen put a bullet in his eye eight years ago. He couldn't take the guilt of losing his two young sons when they drowned in his little pond while he wasn't watching--not that he could've gotten to them before they drowned anyway."

A deputy added in, "We had a call about someone messing around on Mrs. Clausen's dock yesterday. Someone had gone out on one of the boats. By the time Mrs. Clausen got out there, he was back on the dock and he ran off to his car when she yelled at him."

It was like my world was falling apart.

"But you saw her in the foyer, Mrs. Teague, this morning. You said she'd been wandering around all night."

"That was Gretchen in the foyer, Mr. Goldman. I'm sorry."

"This can't be happening."

"What's your name, if I may?"

"It's Stephen, ma'am."

"Stephen."

It might as well have been her voice.

"What was her name?"

"My sister... hmph... that sounds like her. Neglecting the simplest things and jumping head first into the next adventure. That's how she died--I know it's awful to say. The gas got to her, too. Best we could figure, when the fighting started, she tried to get out, but couldn't find a way. They think she'd been hiding somewhere, but the gas took her mind. When she came out, she just started running..."

Outside, we heard what sounded like plate glass exploding, coupled with a woman's scream. The deputies turned to look, but the scream died out and there was nothing to see.

One of the deputies had had enough. "Sheriff, if you don't need us anymore, I've got someplace to be..."

With that, the Sheriff dismissed his men, and Mrs. Teague, Ms. Weider, and I shared a long chat about the days' events... well, not all of them.

"Oh no!" I blurted.

"What is it?" Mrs. Teague asked.

"I'm going to have to have a long, serious talk with Sonya Vera."

Next chapter -- theprose.com/post/741584