He was now speaking of The Other Dorotea, who was euphemistically described as “El Jefe’s housekeeper.”
“And then what happened?” Clete asked softly.
“Well,” Schultz began, and then stopped. He sighed, then went on: “Clete, I sent a couple of guys on horses with them. Told them to stay out of sight but to keep their eyes open. . . .”
“And then what happened?” Clete repeated softly.
“Well, I guess they were half a mile, maybe a kilometer, out in the boonies when Dorotea took a little break. . . .”
“What do you mean, ‘a little break’?”
“She went behind a bush, so to speak, is what I mean,” Schultz said uncomfortably. “You know?”
That triggered a mental image of the massive “housekeeper” Frade would just as well have not had.
“And then what happened?” Clete asked for a third time.
“Then the Kraut belted her behind the ear with a thing from the fireplace—you know, a poker. She must have had it hidden in her skirt.”
Clete looked back to Schultz. “And then?”
“The Kraut took off running,” Schultz said. He then remembered that three of the men listening to him were German and might consider that a pejorative term. He tried to justify his lack of tact by saying, “Jesus, she could have killed Dorotea with that goddamn poker.”
“Is Dorotea badly injured?” Clete inquired.
“She’s got a lump behind her ear the size of a baseball.”
“Where did Frau Frogger think she was going?” Frade asked.
Schultz shrugged.
“She didn’t get far,” Schultz said. “Dorotea went after her.”
“And where is she now?” Father Welner asked.
“In the house,” Schultz said. “He’s taking care of her.”
“I presume you mean Herr Frogger?” Clete asked.
Schultz nodded.
“Define ‘taking care of her,’ ” Frade ordered.
Schultz now looked even more uncomfortable.
“When she caught her, Dorotea did a job on her,” he said. Then he added: “It took two of the guys to pull her off of her.” There was another pause, this one a little longer. “And it took them a little time to get there to pull her off.”
“May
I see her?” Oberstleutnant Frogger asked softly.
“Perhaps it would be better if I went in to see her first,” Father Welner said. When neither Frogger nor Frade replied, the priest added, “You said earlier, Wilhelm, that there was some difficulty between you two when you first saw her.”
Frogger nodded. “Thank you, Father.”
Welner reached down and unbuttoned several of the buttons on his plaid woolen shirt. Then he reached inside and pulled out a dickey to which was attached a clerical collar. In a few seconds, he had fastened the collar around his neck and rebuttoned the shirt.
He looked at Frade and the others, and asked, “All right?”