Who

Chapter 2

“I’ve done many things in my life, but going to the top of a lighthouse is one I’ve missed.” Norman straddled his suitcase between his legs as he spoke. The keeper leaned his head up towards the sky and then back again, setting his chin in motion with a nod of understanding. “I know what you’re thinking. A man of my size couldn’t get up and around the stairwell. But you’d be surprised what I can do. I was quite athletic in my day.” He patted his stomach and grinned. “Maybe more out of shape now but still, quite agile when I need to be.”

The lighthouse keeper sighed. “I hadn’t paid much attention to your size, but now that you brought it up, you are a big fellah.”

“A giant.”

“Giant?”

“Yeah, I’ve been called a giant so many times that I sometimes forget my real name.”

“And that would be?”

“Norman.”

A cool breeze blowing off the water seemed to lighten the moment. The lighthouse keeper, a crusty man with a day-old beard, appeared more annoyed about having been taken away from his usual chores. He walked with a slight limp, and though riddled with arthritis, he was careful not to complain lest a younger and more fit man was to take his place. “Please to make your acquaintance. I’m Jay.”

“Perhaps when I return, you might take me up?”

“Perhaps.”

A face at the window disappeared just as Norman glanced up at the magnificent structure. He wasn’t ordinarily superstitious, but as he followed the old keeper down a path to the coach, he began to sense something was amiss.

***

Wolfe was outraged that his wife had taken it upon herself to make the arrangements without his knowledge. But as always, his bark was bigger than his bite, and when she dropped him off at the station, he had calmed down. He didn’t like to travel far from home; he was a creature of habit, enjoying his meals at the same time, and taking evening walks around the same park he had done for years. But after brooding and then quiet contemplation, he couldn’t find any real fault in following up with what this Esquire had to say. Everything in the weekend was included, there was no outlay of money, and a few days of relaxation among others who had endured similar adversities would do him good. That’s what Loba said after she kissed him goodbye and drove away.

He offered his bag to the porter and hoped his wife had remembered to pack his red ascot. “A hell of a time to think about that,” he thought as he stepped up into the train. He followed the conductor into his car and tried to ignore the feeling someone was staring at him. From a side glance, he noticed an elderly woman duck inside her compartment as he approached. All the males in his family had the same effect on people, and since he had inherited their strong jawline, long pointy nose, and deep-set black eyes, assumed it was because of his appearance. He wasn’t ugly, just gruff looking. And for that reason, he found it difficult to make friends. The conductor stood in the doorway as Wolfe pulled the window shade down to avoid platform loiterers from looking in. “After we get going, the dining car will be open,” the trainman said.

“Thank you, but I prefer to have my dinner served here. If that’s okay?”

“Certainly, Sir. I’ll have someone come around to take your order.”

Wolfe smiled back his approval, which appeared to have triggered the conductor’s hasty retreat. Loba often warned him that sometimes his smile showed a bit too many teeth. “Next time I’ll just grin,” he thought.

***

The ride to the manor house was out of a fairy tale; a vintage coach pulled by two harnessed horses steadily climbed the inclined road. The coachman mumbled and grumbled as he tried to swat away the flies with a handkerchief. His was a meager attempt at discouraging the pesky insects. Mrs. Hildebrandt felt no ill effects of the bumpy ride, enjoying the plush interior and a basket generous with snacks. She set the cloth napkin on her lap and fingered the scones as she decided which one to eat first. “Scones,” she thought, “I haven’t had these since before prison.” Such an unpleasant reminder made her snarl.

It had been a long day of travel, and as she brushed the few crumbs off her dress, she hoped they would arrive soon. She peered out the small window and smiled. It certainly was a lovely view, for as the horses lumbered upward, the seascape grew smaller, and the land around her became more lush. It made her reminisce about her childhood; it never occurred to her until she was older that growing up in the woods was considered out of the norm. It all seemed perfectly natural, the cottage, the picket fence, and the animals: rabbits, squirrels, hawks, deer, and of course, bears. Mrs. Hildebrandt closed her eyes, and then, in a matter of what seemed only a moment, she heard the driver fiddling with the coach door. A pungent odor of manure penetrated her nose just as she heard him say, “We’re here, Ma’am.”

***

She slowly trailed the coachman’s steps up to the house, a large brick building overlooking the sound. He set the suitcase down on the front stoop. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you here now,” he said. He had a crooked mouth and appeared to lean to the left, favoring that side of his body. “Maybe it’s because he carries so many heavy bags with his left hand,” Mrs. Hildebrandt thought as she watched him totter back to the coach and lift himself to the top of the cab. She tried to decipher how old he was, but to Goldie, everyone seemed younger than her. The oak door, sturdy and rustic, presented a large brass knocker. She peered at the doorframe, hoping for a doorbell, but there was none. She stood for several moments and backed away from the portico to reassess her position. She had learned to be leery of unlocked doors, which often came with false welcomes. Then she gained her courage and pulled back on the ring, striking the door with several bold raps. Almost immediately, the door opened with what seemed to be an enormous man taking up the entire entranceway.

“Mr. Tilddler?” she asked.

“No.”

“Oh, well, I’m Mrs. Hildebrandt. Mr. Tilddler is expecting me.”

“I’m Norman.”

“Hello, Norman, are you the houseman?”

“No, a guest.”

“Well, this is rather peculiar,” she complained, looking around the man and into the house. “I suppose I’ll come in and wait too,” and tossing an exaggerated glance at her belongings, inched one bag forward with her foot. A fleeting distrust for the brassy woman swelled, and his eyes grew round as Norman deciphered her gesture as impertinent. But as he reached for the luggage set before him, the pushy woman charged ahead.

“This is all rather unconventional,” Goldie exclaimed as Norman shut the door and set her bags aside. “I don’t like the way this is all beginning to shake out. It would be so much better if Mr. Tilddler were here.” She removed her gloves and revealing her uninhibited self, wandered through the foyer into the living room. “How’d you get in?”

“The front door was open.”

“And you just walked in?”

“Yes, that’s what I was told to do on the phone.”

“Oh, my instructions were different. Mine said to arrive by way of coach, but nothing about entering on my own. I just assumed…”

“Someone would be here?”

“Something like that.” She sat down on the sofa and settled back into the corner. She seemed to gravitate to corners. “Have you been here long?”

“Not really, maybe an hour.” He sat down in the sofa chair and put his feet up on the ottoman. It was the first time all day that he felt comfortable.

“This is a very nice room in an old fashion kind of way.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, but do we know each other? You seem so familiar.”

“So that’s why you were staring at me. I was beginning to think I had something in my teeth. Come here closer to the lamp; my eyesight is not what it once was.” The giant obeyed and leaned his face toward the light. “Hmmm, maybe, ever been to Kingston?”

“Jamaica?”

“No, New York.”

“Can’t say I have.”

Goldie put her finger to her temple and tapped. “I know! The newspaper, I bet it was a picture in the paper.”

Norman laughed, “Newspaper? Imagine my mug in the newspaper.”

“Perhaps, not,” agreed Goldie airing her doubts. “But sooner or later, it’ll come to me.”

***

When Mr. Wolfe arrived, he could not help but to be impressed. He asked the coachman to let him off before entering through the gates. The walk would give him time to get the kinks out of his stiff legs; he told the driver. At first, there was some resistance; instructions were to drive the guests directly to the walkway. However, Wolfe’s sinister appearance must have made the driver think twice and let him out without any more appeals from the passenger.

It was a narrow road, and so the coachman continued along until he...