“Interesting . . . Bachman, Dreschler and Dreschler. His name’s not even on here.”
“Junior partner?”
“Or the Guard? You did notice that wolf painting, right?”
Sam was already heading back down the alley, looking through the basement window to see what Will was doing. But there he was, whistling away as he hand-sanded the side of the armoire.
—
SAM PARKED IN a gravel lot, and the two walked toward the park-like grounds, catching sight of the castle through the trees. The still moat reflected not only the red-bricked castle, and the Baroque gardens to the left of it, but also the dark, threatening clouds above—until the breeze rippled across the water, blurring everything on its surface.
“It’s beautiful,” Remi said.
A light sprinkle started to fall, and Sam looked up at the sky, quickening their pace. “Hope we can find what we need and get out of here before the weather turns.”
They crossed the footbridge, then passed through an arched entry into a courtyard, their footsteps echoing as they walked in. To their right was the wing of the castle that had been turned into a hotel. Directly in front, mounted high on the courtyard wall, was a simplified wrought iron version of the Salm-Salm family crest of two fish, back-to-back. “Just like the key,” Remi said.
Sam looked around and found the tour office to their left. Wilhelm had made arrangements for them to meet up with Laurenz Hippler, who worked on-site and managed the castle grounds for the family. Inside, a middle-aged woman, wearing a white blouse and black slacks, sat behind a glass window, attending a cash register. “Sam and Remi Fargo,” he said. “Mr. Hippler, please. He’s expecting us.”
“One moment,” she replied, picking up the phone and punching the extension. “Herr und Frau Fargo sind hier . . . Danke.” She hung up the phone. “He will be right down.”
“Thank you.”
About one minute later, a gray-haired man, wearing a dark blue suit and tie, came down the stairs from the end of the hall. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo. A pleasure to meet you,” he said, shaking their hands. “I understand you’re trying to match a key to a piece of furniture? A bit of a mystery, of a sort?”
“We are,” Sam said.
“I spoke with the family and they’ve agreed to let you look. As long as you understand that nothing can be removed from the premises. At least not without their permission.”
“If we find what we’re looking for,” Sam said, “I think a few photos will do.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. So where is this key?”
Sam took it from his pocket, holding it out to him. “Any ideas what it might belong to?”
The man’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at the key. He looked at Sam, almost in disbelief. “I know exactly what it belongs to.”
60
Sam and Remi followed Laurenz out of the office, down the stairs, then across the castle’s courtyard. He looked over at the key Sam held. “That is amazing. Where did you find it?”
“In Poland,” Sam said, deciding it would be much easier
to keep it vague. “An old Nazi office.”
“Who knows how many Nazis were in and out of the castle in those days. Anyone could have taken it. It does, however, answer the question of what happened to it. During the war, most of the furniture, paintings, and valuables were moved to an underground, shell-proof mine. A wise move, since more than seventy percent of the castle was destroyed during the air raids. As you can see, it’s since been rebuilt.”
“What does the key belong to?” Remi asked as Laurenz opened the door to the castle.
“The writing desk that originally belonged to Marie Christine, sister of Prince Carl Theodor Otto. From the seventeenth century. But a lock was added to it sometime after the First World War. The key has been missing for as long as I’ve been here.”
He led them through a door into a small room with a fireplace whose surround was made of Delft blue tiles, then on past into a library filled with thousands of volumes locked behind glass doors. “I’m only assuming it’s the key since the desk is the only piece of furniture I know of in the castle that is missing one. Here,” he said, stopping in front of a windowed alcove to the left that was barricaded from public access by a velvet rope. Inside was a desk, stationery, and writing instruments, set up to show what it might have looked like centuries ago. “Here it is. Shall we see if it fits?”
Sam handed the key over. Laurenz removed the rope barricade, then stepped around the desk, inserting the key into the lock and turning it. “Perfect fit. Though I’m not sure how this will help you.”
Sam and Remi watched as he opened the drawer, Remi saying, “We need to know what is inside it.”
“The drawer? Empty, I’m afraid. We had a locksmith open it long ago, when they decided to allow tours. I don’t recall anything of value ever being mentioned. Just some of the writing tools you see on the desktop.”