Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

had decided to leave everything behind and pay a visit to my father.

    ~~~

    On the train to Leipzig I saw my childhood rushing past, intermingled with the familiar countryside. It made my heart ache in a good way.
    My father was waiting at the station, holding on to one of his coat buttons, and waiting for his only child.
    I pushed through the crowd, anxiously wondering whether he still loved me. What a silly thought, I realised, as I flung my arms around him, pressing my face onto his warm chest and inhaling the smell of fresh wood shavings. He held me tight as though he hadn’t seen me for years. I pushed a quiet sob into his coat as I noticed we had indeed not seen each other for a very long time.
    He released me then and gazed into my face, slightly abashed. We rarely hugged. Besides, his only daughter looked like a man.
    We left the station, climbed into the dog cart, and he flicked the whip across the backs of his two yellow Haflinger ponies. He asked me about my work in Berlin and about the journey. We both felt a little awkward as though we had to get to know each other again.
    As we reached the forest around Naunhof I asked my father to stop the cart, so I could change into my female clothing. Upon my return from the woods, I pointed at the stocky horses. ‘Don’t you think the two old ladies should retire?’
    He only grunted in response and I got the feeling that something worried him. With my hand on his knee I said, ‘Anton? Can I ask you something and you promise me not to be mad?’
    Another grunt — he probably guessed what was coming.
    ‘You did get the money I sent you every month?’
    He nodded, but did not look at me.
    ‘Are you using it,’ I asked, ‘at all?’
    He shook his head, finally turning his face towards me, wearing an apologetic frown.
    ‘Why?’ I said, unbelieving. ‘I mean… Sorry, it’s your own business; you can do with it what you want, of course; but please tell me if I offended you by sending you money. Er… Did I offend you?’ I stammered.
    He snorted and shook his head. ‘Anna, you behave like the elephant in the china store who finally learned that she has pretty big hindquarters.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Never mind. I put the money aside. And before you ask why, I did it because I know that one day it will all come out — you will lose your occupation, and will have to hide somewhere. So I saved the money you sent. You can have it back when you need it.’
    For a long moment I sat there, speechless.
    ‘You always tell me I got the brains from mother, but I don’t think that’s true. You are quite a brainy carpenter.’
    The awe in my voice made him blush and we both fell silent again.
    An hour later, we crossed the river Mulde at the Pöppelmann Bridge. I was about to see my old home again and the thought sped up my heart and lungs. Then I remembered the money. ‘Anton, I have to tell you something.’
    He gazed at me with one bushy eyebrow pulled up. Every time he did that, he looked like a ten years younger and very smug version of himself and I had to hold on to myself as not to kiss his brow.
    ‘I sent you only half my income. The other half, minus the little I need for a living, goes to the bank. I, too, know that I may need a safe hiding place and some money to get me through several months.’
    Now his other eyebrow went up, too.
    ‘Last year I bought a small cottage in the countryside. It’s in an awful state, but when I need it, I’ll fix it. I have a safe place; so would you please use the money?’
    Smiling meekly, he nodded.
    ‘Aw! Come on, old carpenter!’ I poked his ribs with my elbow. ‘Allow the ladies their much deserved retirement and don’t turn them into salami before you get yourself new ones!’
    He wrapped his one arm around me as the two horses pulled us up the hill. We turned a corner and I could see it – the small stone house with the mossy straw roof, which was now partially covered with snow; a garden surrounding it, a hen house, a wood shed, and the carpenter’s workshop. I spotted my large cherry tree that had carried me for years and felt the familiar pang in my chest — the place I had called home for the best part of my life. It made me feel calm and nervous at the same time. How odd!
    We were both hungry, so I cooked us food and we drank the brandy I had brought from London. He sat in his armchair and I on the floor in front of him, both of us close to the fireplace with the heat toasting our feet. And very soon