On Friday the Sheriff made an appointment by telephone and came to call at 2:00 PM. He was accompanied by a handsome young man in an army uniform with officer's insignia. They were invited into my office and seated.
"Mrs. Begley, this is Lieutenant Kinnerman from the United States Army Intelligence Service. Lieutenant Kinnerman, this is Mary Susan Begley, the proprietor of this establishment."
"I'm glad to meet you, Lieutenant. Please call me Mary Susan. What can I do for you?"
The Sheriff responded. "I thought you ought to be brought up to date about the shooting and Mr. Robert Miller, although we are pretty sure that isn't really his name. The fact is, we don't know his name. All of the information we could get on him led us nowhere. Your records are the most complete we have. Nothing we have on him turns out to be verifiable.
"Lieutenant Kinnerman has contributed some federal support to our investigations. He contacted Mr. Miller's former college on the East Coast. They never heard of him. We tried tracing his driving license. It turned out to be made up from whole cloth, so to speak. So practically speaking, the only information we have of any of this is yours. I mean yours and Miss Lansdorf's.
"We looked very thoroughly into her background too, as you might very well guess. We contacted the University of Berlin, through the good offices of the Lieutenant here."
The good Lieutenant filled in. "She did indeed attend the University of Berlin last year, with high marks in philosophy. We were unable to ascertain her political affiliations with any certainty. You'd be surprised at how difficult that is to do in Germany these days. But we did not find any official notice of her or her behavior, not that that means much these days.
"So despite the violence and the confessed murder, we aren't going to pursue the case," the sheriff went on, "The county prosecutor didn't even want to come out here today. He isn't interested in the case. Despite all the complications suggested in Miss Lansdorf's testimony we are taking the simpler view of things and calling it self-defense. The case is closed so far as the County is concerned."
"Well not quite," I thought. I had a question to ask. I looked at the Lieutenant. "Robert Miller's room was searched thoroughly yesterday by some very untalkative gentlemen with Secret Service or Secret Something badges they flashed. I expected to be told something of that and haven't been. What were they up to? What did they find?"
The Lieutenant responded very carefully, "I will tell you this much. What Miss Landsdorf told the sheriff in the report and subsequent deposition is almost certainly true. Mr. Miller had photographic equipment which was used to photograph documents. And," he added reluctantly, "a mailing address was found in New York. As soon as we had that address we raided it. It was a very successful raid, and we recovered a considerable number of photographs."
"Photographs?" I enquired innocently. "Photographs of what?" But he wasn't saying. The photographs of the letters sent from her family and Erica's class notes and papers had become military secrets. "I wonder how long the Army puzzled over the potato soup recipe, looking for a secret coded message."
Apparently, the Lieutenant detected a bit of sarcasm in my speech, in spite of my conscientious efforts to conceal it.
"It really would have helped if she had told us what was happening before she, uh, ended it."
"Lieutenant, exactly what was she expected to say and to whom was she to say it? Had she told any of the local officials she would have been mocked at best and imprisoned at worst as an anarchist, or of knowing one, or of having spoken once to one, or perhaps having been seen walking past a suspected one on the street.
"I personally do not know of any federal officials in Brown's Crossing with the possible exception of the Postmaster. We average citizens are very cautious these days about saying things of that nature to people we don't know, especially official people, actual or self-appointed."
His head came up and his face hardened. "It is every citizen's duty to report...," He paused at that point, then softened and said, "No, I see your point. We will not trouble miss Landsdorf again. The incident is now closed."
The lieutenant seemed quite firm about that. "And we would appreciate it if you regarded it in the same way. The less said about it the better from now on. That is the primary reason for my visit today. I came to reassure you that there would be no further action on our part and encourage your silence on the matter. The Sheriff tells me that there will be no suggestion of a crime and no further action taken by the local authorities. May I expect the same from you?"
"First, who are you, exactly?" I asked as sweetly as I knew how." I see the uniform, I hear you referred to somewhat mysteriously as lieutenant. I thought soldiers, even lieutenants, had names, but I don't see yours. Who is requesting all this silence?"
"I'm afraid it will be best if you don't know who I am exactly. To tell you the truth, sometimes I'm not sure myself." He smiled at me. It was a nice smile. I smiled back, I think.
I butted in once more. "And the workers revolution in America? What of that?"
"You tell me. We haven't heard anything of it, and to tell the truth, we don't expect to. We only know what Miss Landsdorf told us in her deposition. I can say with certainty that Robert Miller was not acting alone, but we have no idea who his confederates might be. At least, not officially we don't." He added.
"Please, all we ask for is for you to forget the entire incident, to return to your normal life and never even think about it again. For my part, we promise that you will not be involved further. The case is closed. The incident is forgotten.
"All very well for you, my mysterious friend, but what shall I tell my remaining guests? How shall they know not to talk about a horrible shooting death in their home?"
"I can't help you with that. The Sheriff's version of the story will have to do, I expect. Mr. Miller was a late night intruder with evil intent. Miss Landsdorf's response was self defense, there is no story beyond that.
"Well," I mused out loud, "if that should prove insufficient, there's always the vampire."
"Vampire? What vampire?" For the first time his face showed emotion. He looked quite concerned. It made a nice change in the atmosphere. I also noticed the Sheriff being very quiet in his corner. I enjoyed the moment of silence.
"Lieutenant, if you can have your secrets, then you must allow us to have ours." I smiled at him. He really was a handsome young man, with a very puzzled look on his fine young face.
They left. We agreed that he would not share their secrets with me, and that I would not tell him the story of the vampire on Jefferson Street.