Finding a Killer Page 3

  Albert looked into Mary’s sweet and innocent eyes and smiled a loving smile. “I expect you are confused,” he replied. He stood up, walked back up on stage, and then slowly began pacing back and forth with his hands tucked behind his back. His face became very thoughtful. “Mary, I have a very fine nephew. One of the best I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  “John is a fine man,” Mary agreed, watching Albert pace back and forth like a general debating on what attack plan to use.

  “I never had any children,” Albert said. “John’s aunt and I were not blessed in that way. But I was blessed with having some nieces and nephews.” Albert continued to pace back and forth. “However, John was the only family member who wrote me letters, called me on the telephone, sent me birthday cards. Yes, my nephew was the only one out of the entire bunch that cared for me, especially after my wife passed on to heaven so many years ago.” Albert stopped pacing and looked at the piano. “My dear Erin risked her life to save a drowning child who had foolishly ventured out onto a frozen pond that was not stable to walk on. She saved the child but became very ill afterward.” Albert closed his eyes. “My dear Erin fought the good fight, but her body had to release her sweet spirit and she went to heaven without me.”

  Mary sat, shocked. Albert had never once spoken of his wife before. John had warned her that the topic was the one area he didn’t allow anyone to enter. And now the man was standing on a small stage speaking openly of his sweet love. “I’m very sorry.”

  “As was I,” Albert confessed and opened his eyes. He looked down at Mary and Betty and fought back a single tear. “Before my sweet Erin passed, she made me promise to never lose my sense of humor. It was my sense of humor, you must understand, that my sweet Erin adored most about me. I made her laugh…and that was precious to her.” Albert forced a smile back to his face. “So,” he said and clapped his hands together, “I promised my wife to always make people laugh until my dying day, and even play some pranks. Oh, my sweet Erin loved my pranks. Why? Only love knows.” Albert smiled. “Humor…jokes…pranks…they all keep my wife alive inside of this old heart.”

  Mary wasn’t sure what to say. Why was Albert speaking so openly…speaking in a way he had never spoken before? Usually when Albert visited the only words that left his mouth were words filled with humor. “Uncle Albert, are you okay?” she asked.

  Albert smiled again. He eased over to the front of the stage, sat down at the edge, swung his legs over the front, and grew silent for a minute. “My love,” he said, “when I will die…only the Good Lord knows,” he finally spoke. “I’m sixty-eight years old. I may die tomorrow or live three more decades.” Albert raised his hand and focused on Mary and Betty. “With those words spoken,” he continued, “I have realized the time has arrived for me to make a very serious decision. And that, my love, is why I called you for this visit.” Albert began kicking his heels against the front of the stage like a small child. “My nephew is away fighting the evils of mankind right now, leaving his lovely wife to be his beneficiary. And because you always treated me with such love, even though I did put glue in your shoes”—here he laughed—“I feel that I can trust you.”

  “Trust me for what?” Mary asked. She stood up and walked over to Albert. “Uncle Albert, what is this all about?”

  Albert stopped kicking the stage and motioned around the room. “My love, this hospital for the poor-minded souls who need to retreat away from the world from time to time…well, it’s not cheap.”

  “I can see that,” Mary agreed. “I’m sure the cost is very high.”

  “Indeed, it is.” Albert nodded. He reached into the front pocket of his tuxedo, pulled out a pack of playing cards, and began shuffling them. “What does that tell you?” he asked Mary.

  Mary walked her eyes up to the grand piano, then focused back on the tuxedo Albert was wearing. A mental hospital didn’t give out tuxedos to wear. “Uncle Albert, are you trying to tell me you’re a wealthy man?”

  “Extremely.” Albert smiled and asked Mary to pick a card. “Any card.”

  “Uh…okay,” Mary said and drew out a card.

  Albert grinned. “You chose the nine of hearts, didn’t you?”

  “Why yes, but how did you—”

  “Ah, ah.” Albert chuckled and took the card from Mary. “Mystery is a sweet treasure, one we must never dig up.”

  Mary looked at Betty, who shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t ask me,” Betty said. “I’m just glad we’re not in some creepy dungeon.”

  “Indeed.” Albert laughed and put the cards back into the pocket of his tuxedo. “Now, we must talk business.”

  “Business?” Mary asked.

  “Business,” Albert said. “You see, my dear, most people wait until they are dead before they allow their treasures to be enjoyed by others. I, on the other hand, want my treasures to be enjoyed by you and your husband before I die. However,” Albert lowered his voice, “there are many villains lurking in the shadows that wish to destroy my wishes before they are brought to life.” Albert quickly jumped down and began creeping around the room. “Hidden in the shadows lurk many eyes peering into my heart waiting for me to reveal my utmost weakness.” Albert rushed on stage and peeked behind the piano. “Everywhere I whisper the shadows yell back…all hidden…hidden in plain sight.”

  Betty stood up and ran over to Mary. “I think he’s having a breakdown,” she said in a shaky voice. “Maybe we should go find Nurse Greta?”

  Albert ran to the front of the stage and clapped his hands, scaring Betty half to death. “The hidden shadows,” he laughed, “is where we must go.”

  “Uncle Albert, what in the world are you talking about?” Mary demanded.

  Albert simply plopped back down on the front of the stage, took the playing cards back out, and said: “Certain people want my treasure. I can’t let thieves steal what belongs to me, now can I?”

  Mary watched Albert shuffle the playing cards and then look up at her with a sweet smile. “I…suppose not,” she said.

  “Indeed,” Albert agreed and asked Betty to pick a card. Betty reached out a nervous hand and chose one. “The ace of spades?” Albert asked.

  “Why…yes,” Betty whispered.

  “My favorite card.” Albert smiled at Betty. “Now, back to business,” he said. “I need you to help me escape this hospital.”

  “But the guard…the nurse…said no one is kept here against their will,” Mary said in a confused voice.

  “There are other ways to imprison a heart,” Albert told Mary in a voice that suddenly became very tired. “Yes, there are other ways to imprison a heart. And alas,” Albert lowered his head and looked down at the floor, “this old man cannot break free.”

  Mary looked at Betty again. Betty shrugged her shoulders. “Uncle Albert?” Mary asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Murder,” Albert said without raising his head. “A murder is going to take place. When the murder is completed, I will be held prisoner forever in a true dungeon. When that event happens, my love, my treasure will be stolen from me.”

  Mary and Betty looked at each other as a light rain began to fall outside. “Oh dear,” Mary said.

  “Oh dear and oh my,” Betty added in a scared voice. She looked at the Music Room door and began wondering where Greta was.

  Mary peeked her head out of the Music Room, studied an empty hallway, and then eased the door closed. “Nurse Greta isn’t in sight,” she told Betty and ran back to Albert. “Okay, Uncle Albert, start talking,” she demanded in a loving but stern voice. “What’s going on? Who is going to be murdered? Who is holding you prisoner?”

  Albert stood up, tossed his arms behind his back, and began pacing back and forth in front of the stage. “Those are all very interesting questions,” he said with his head bowed down toward the floor. “Questions of the utmost importance. Questions that need to be answered immediately. But first…” Albert quickly threw his right hand forward, reached up the left sleeve of his tuxedo
, and yanked out a bunch of fake pink roses. “For you!” he exclaimed.

  “Oh, Uncle Albert, now isn’t the time for tricks,” Mary said in a desperate voice. “Please, I need you to focus and be very serious.”

  “I see.” Albert took back the fake roses with a hurt face.

  “Oh, don’t be upset,” Mary begged.

  Albert sighed. “No, no, you’re right,” he told Mary, sliding the roses back up his right sleeve, “there’s a time to be serious and a time to be silly.” Albert looked at Mary. “Being serious requires one to accept reality,” he pointed out. “Reality is consumed with much pain.” Albert pointed at the piano. “I visit reality only once a day…to remember…and then escape back into my own little world.”

  Mary and Betty looked at the piano and then at each other. Sadness filled their eyes. “Uncle Albert—”

  Albert raised his right hand into the air. “This hospital is my escape hatch from reality,” he explained. “At times I venture back into the world to pay those I care for a visit, but quickly return to my safe haven.” Albert placed his hands behind his back. “Reality has a tendency to harm rather than comfort,” he continued. “I speak from experience.”

  Mary felt a strange feeling enter her heart. “Uncle Albert, you’re not just speaking about your wife, are you?”

  Albert looked at Mary. “You’re a very perceptive woman. I have always been very fond of you,” he said and offered a weak smile. “No, my dear, I’m not just speaking about my sweet Erin.” Albert walked to a chair and sat down and looked at his hands. “For many years I have managed to escape reality.”

  Mary eased over to Albert and sat down next to him. “Talk to me, Uncle Albert, please.”

  Albert sighed. “I was forty years old when I entered the war,” he told Mary in a painful voice.

  “The war?” Mary asked. “Uncle Albert, are you talking about World War One?”

  Albert nodded. “I was a surgeon,” he said in a low whisper.

  “A surgeon?” Betty gasped. “You…Mr. Funny Bones?”

  Albert raised his head and studied Betty’s shocked face. “I see that I have hidden my secret rather well,” he said.

  Mary quickly rubbed the tip of her nose. “Uncle Albert, why didn’t you—”

  “Tell anyone?” Albert asked. He looked down at his hands again. “Guilt overcomes pride, my love,” he said and then raised his eyes to Mary and tapped the side of his head. “And a little insanity cuts very deep.”

  “But…your wife…she made you promise to always laugh?” Mary asked, confused. “You admitted that you made your wife laugh.”

  “Before the war,” Albert confessed, “I was a very funny man who was deeply in love with a precious woman who not only loved my humor but my hands.” Albert lowered his eyes again as pain struck his heart. “When my sweet Erin died…so young…the war began. I was filled with a great bitterness…anger…that captured my heart. My sweet Erin was gone, and I was alone.” Albert grew silent for a moment and then continued. “My sweet Erin made me promise to never stop smiling, and I promised. Yet for a while I was not a man of my word. I entered the war a very bitter man.”

  Mary reached down and took Albert’s hand. “What happened during the war?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “Pain,” Albert whispered as tears began falling from his eyes, “unimaginable pain…death…sorrow…horror.” Albert raised his eyes. “Absolute death,” he said through trembling lips.

  “It’s okay,” Mary promised and pulled Albert into her arms. “The war is over.”

  Albert pulled away from Mary and stood up. “Not in here it isn’t,” he said and touched his heart. Then he looked around, quickly wiped at his tears, and shook his head. “What a clown I am for speaking of the war.”

  Mary studied Albert’s face. Something told her that beyond the painful memories stood a deep secret—a secret that was responsible for Albert’s plea for help. “Uncle Albert, how did you become wealthy?” she asked. “Did you become wealthy before or after the war?”

  “Oh no,” Albert said. He forced a weak smile to his face and quickly wiped away the rest of his tears. “It was the war, my dear, that made me wealthy…and it’s the war that my foes want me to return to.” A strange expression suddenly struck Albert’s eyes. “Never!” he yelled. Then he ran back to the piano, plopped down, and began playing a silly song. “Up on the clouds where the candy drops, we sing and dance under the peppermint trees. The penguins laugh and the beavers giggle as the lollipops all fall down…all fall down…all fall down…”

  Mary gave Betty a concerned eye. Once again, Betty shrugged her shoulders. The poor woman didn’t have a clue what to do or what to think.

  “Uncle Albert?” Mary said.

  “Up on the clouds where the candy drops,” Albert continued to sing, ignoring Mary.

  Mary stood up and walked over to Betty. As she did, the door opened. Nurse Greta appeared with a scowl on her face. “What’s all the noise about?” she demanded.

  “Up on the clouds where the birds are silly,” Albert sang, “and down below the elephants sing to the bored old land…”

  “Uncle Albert is just being a…bit silly,” Mary assured Greta.

  Greta studied Albert with cruel eyes. “Your lunch will be ready soon,” she spoke over the music.

  “Up on the clouds there are peppermint dreams…” Albert continued to sing. Then, without any notice, he slammed on the brakes, looked at Greta, and said in a very polite voice: “My dear queen, thank you for your visit. I will attend the lunch gathering very shortly.”

  Greta glared at Albert. “Is your…visit going well, Albert?”

  “As a one-legged horse once told me…a visit with a bear is never pleasant unless one can run faster than his fear…but a visit with a bird is always pleasant because one can always dream,” Albert told Greta.

  Greta rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Mary and Betty. “How is your visit going?” she demanded.

  “Oh, fine,” Mary promised.

  “Yes…very well,” Betty added and slowly moved behind Mary.

  “How much longer do you intend to visit for?” Greta asked in a rough voice. “I don’t like to see my patients upset.”

  “Upset?” Albert repeated. He bolted to his feet and began dancing with an imaginary friend. “Nurse Greta, I have never felt so wonderful in all of my life. I’m sure Dr. Cappes will be well pleased that I am in such a pleasant mood today.”

  “Dr. Cappes?” Mary asked.

  “Dr. Jonathan Cappes, my dear, is the director, the man who tends to this dear hospital with the greatest of care and love,” Albert told Mary as he continued to dance across the stage. “A true friend to those who possess a mental state less fortunate than others.”

  Mary looked at Greta. She saw Greta’s cheeks turn red. “Are you okay?” Mary asked.

  Greta threw her eyes at Mary and then looked back at Albert with a clear hatred that alarmed Mary. “Albert,” Greta snapped, “come down from that stage and go to lunch.”

  “My appointment with music still has many more minutes left, my dear,” Albert informed Greta. “Dr. Cappes allocates me one hour a day to enjoy this lovely atmosphere. I still have more than twenty minutes left.”’

  “So you do,” Greta mumbled and backed away to the door. “Keep the noise down,” she ordered Albert and slammed the door closed behind her.

  “My, what a hateful woman,” Betty whispered.

  A very bad feeling crept into Mary’s heart. “Uncle Albert, please come down from the stage and talk to me,” she begged.

  Albert stopped dancing, looked down at Mary, then pointed at the door. “My love, you have just witnessed one of my foes,” he said, becoming very serious. “A foe who is aware of my secret.”

  “What secret?” Mary asked.

  Albert motioned for Mary and Betty to walk up onto the stage. Mary hurried up to Albert, Betty reluctantly following. Albert sat back down at the piano and began playing a v
ery sad song. “Into the war a bitter man goes…where he loses his soul and gains only pain…” Albert sung in a deep, melancholy voice. “When the heart is lost a man walks a dark path…a path filled with broken glass.”

  Mary gently touched Albert’s hand and made him stop playing the piano. “What happened during the war?” she asked in a soft whisper. “Please, Uncle Albert, if you think someone is going to be murdered you have to talk to me.”

  Albert looked up at Mary. Tears began dripping from his old eyes all over again. “Gold, my love,” he said in a shaky voice, “gold.”

  “Gold?”

  Albert nodded. “I not only used my hands to save the lives of innocent boys…I was also forced to use my hands to save the lives of some very…evil…beings.” Albert looked at the door. “One evil being was a German officer who had been shot and captured. This evil being was rushed to me and I was ordered, with many rifles pointed at me by our own people, to save his life.”

  “Golly,” Betty said, trying to imagine in her mind what Albert experienced.

  “Keep talking, Uncle Albert.”

  Albert lowered his eyes down to the piano keys. “A scientist,” he explained. “The German officer that was brought to me was a scientist…at least in the eyes of the Americans who intended to make that evil being into their slave. What no one knew…” Albert paused.

  “What?” Betty begged. “Don’t stop, Uncle Albert.”

  “Yes, please, don’t stop,” Mary urged Albert.

  Albert kept his eyes low. “The German officer,” he whispered, “was a thief as well as a scientist. A man speaks many words when he is out of his mind.” Albert raised his eyes and looked up at Mary and Betty. “I was a very bitter man…carrying a deeply broken soul.”

  Mary stood very still and absorbed Albert’s words. “You stole the German officer’s…stuff?” she asked.