The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

stories about them from another guard’s child. That child, who’s now an elderly woman named Mabel, has been my primary source up until this point, but this is the first written evidence I’ve laid eyes on that suggests the extent to which Kamler cared for Miss White.”
    He handed Olivia a black-and-white photograph. “This has been digitally enhanced, but it shows Heinrich Kamler giving Evelyn White a painting lesson.”
    The image showed a dark-haired girl in a modest, light-colored dress, seated on a campstool in front of an easel. She held a paintbrush in her right hand and was facing a small canvas, but her eyes slid sideways and her mouth curved into a slight and secretive smile. Kamler was in profile, but it was clear from his chiseled features and locks of thick hair that he had been a good-looking man. He held a palette in one hand and was gesturing at the canvas with a wood-handled knife in the other. His expression was one of unmasked adoration.
    “That’s the knife that was used to kill the guard the night Kamler and Ziegler escaped.” Billinger handed her another photo, this one a blowup of the knife in Kamler’s hand.
    But Olivia didn’t take the photo. Her mouth hung agape in shock. “Ziegler? That was the second prisoner’s name? The one who escaped with Kamler?”
    “Yes. I thought you knew that already.” Billinger’s face clouded in confusion.
    Accepting the photograph, Olivia explained, “Nick Plumley’s real name is Ziegler. That’s no coincidence.”
    Billinger nodded. “Absolutely not. Nick was Ziegler’s son.” He pointed at the photo, unaware that Olivia was still trying to absorb what he’d just said. “See this knife? There’s an H burned into the handle. The piece is now in the North Carolina history museum. It’s difficult for me to call it a weapon after seeing it in this scene with Kamler and Evelyn.”
    “They’re both so young,” Olivia whispered, temporarily distracted by the first photo of Evelyn and Heinrich Kamler. She’d need a moment to herself to fully consider the significance of Nick’s parentage.
    “Evelyn would have been sixteen and Kamler eighteen,” Billinger agreed. “He was one of the youngest crew members on the U-352 sunk off the North Carolina coast. It’s no wonder he and Evelyn hit it off. According to the woman I spoke with in the spring, Kamler already knew some English and, by the time of his escape, spoke it like a native North Carolinian, right down to our ever-so-subtle drawl. And Evelyn had always loved art, so it’s easy to see why she fell for the talented German.”
    “But I’m astonished that her parents would approve of her being taught by the enemy. Wouldn’t the Whites have been ostracized by giving their consent?”
    Billinger was clearly delighted by the question. “In the beginning of the war, probably. But as the war dragged on, most of them became a part of the community. They went to baseball games and the cinema, worked the area farms, and traded with the townsfolk. All of these activities took place under guard, but toward the end of the war, several locals were being given language lessons by the prisoners. As long as Evelyn was chaperoned, no one viewed her art classes as a scandal.”
    Fascinated, Olivia took the rest of the photos Billinger held out. “Did you get all of these from Raymond Hatcher?”
    Billinger shook his head. “Just those three on top. They’re perfect for my research, though, because they show the prisoners interacting with the guards and other locals. Here’s a prisoner trading handmade soap for some fresh fish.” He moved closer to her, pointing enthusiastically at the next photograph. “Now we have two prisoners and three guards playing cards for peanuts. It wasn’t uncommon for prisoners to work in the peanut farms or pick cotton or help out in the paper mill, and as you know, peanuts are a healthy and filling snack and were often more useful than money.”
    Olivia was amazed at the expressions of amicability between the prisoners and their keepers.
    “In these next few photographs, the prisoners are wearing American uniforms or civilian clothing,” Billinger explained. “These men had probably been in our country long enough to blend in. Even today, many people are startled to learn that Germans and Italians, Austrians and Poles, and French and Czechs were filling the manual labor jobs left empty after our men went overseas.”
    When Olivia came to a large image