2. Pension Scheme
The small, cold town hall was stuffed with people.
As there weren't any chairs, they had just formed a close circle around the little pedestal upon which stood the brothers, together with the town's mayor. The latter was undeniably a walking cliché: small, round, red-headed and always sweating just enough to keep his forehead constantly covered in a glistening film of moist – but never enough to form beads.
Jake wondered if this plump and well-fed appearance just generally inspired confidence in people, so that you got the chance to become the first man in town, or if it maybe went with the job and you acquired it as soon as taking on the post, along with the chain of office.
He had introduced himself as Roland "Ah, no need for formalities, eh?" which suited his whole manner, that didn't seem to carry authority but more a kind of bustling good-will with a good lacing of anxiousness to displease anyone.
Already the mission had been assigned: Solve the riddle and retrieve the treasure.
Now Wilhelm was trying to get some information on what kind of costume they were going to need.
"All right. What's this spirit look like?" he asked, addressing the crowd that gathered around him.
A little man with small round glasses, standing in the front row, waved a hand in dismissal: "Oh, he only comes out if you choose the wrong pillar."
Will forced a smile."Yeah, alright, but what's he look like?"
"You won't see him anyway, cause you're not going to fail, are you?" the man's voice carried no hint of doubt, just stated the facts.
"Nonononononononono. No. No." the older Grimm hurried to deny and gave a nervous little chuckle to indicate what an absolutely ridiculous and absurd notion that was.
"No, um, just in case, you know, in case he, he's annoyed at someone taking the treasure after all this time." Jake tried. And his brother immediately jumped to his aid: "Yeah, you know, he sits around for years, guarding that treasure and then someone comes and takes it and he is suddenly without occupation in life. … Or undeath, … or whatever. He might get grumpy."
The man, whose name had earlier been given as Bertwin and who was apparently the local expert on the Petermännchen, didn't quite accept this: "I always understood that his soul will finally be at peace then."
Wilhelm hardly missed a beat: "Um, yeah, sure, but, you know how it is: All your life you're complaining about how all you do is toil and break your back and how you long for a bit of peace and suddenly you're looking at a long time of retirement and while it's peaceful, you somehow feel all empty and start suing your neighbour over a bit of garden fence and calling the police if you see people crossing the road at the wrong point …"
Bertwin's face screwed up in thought: "You mean we should set up a pension plan for the Petermännchen? Ask him to join the gardener's club or the senior tea party committee?"
"I mean, you should just give us a description so we can deal with him in case he turns up after all." Wilhelm tried to get back to his concern.
"Mind you, Mr. Schmidt from over in Backsteinstreet, he didn't turn out well in the end. Kept hanging around the old smithy and getting in the way." another voice from among the people remarked.
Will got the rarely experienced impression that he was being ignored: "Yes, yes, so, what does he look like?"
But the voice wasn't to let go of its topic so quickly: "And he was getting absent-minded too. If Paul hadn't been so quick in pushing those children out of the way there would have been a horrible accident and no mistake."
A murmur of agreement started to rise from the crowd.
"So, about the outward appearance of this evil spirit, could you …" Wilhelm tried again, but no one was listening to him. The whole room started to fill with the buzz of gossip.
"I'm partial to a game of chess myself since I retired. Keeps your brain going."
"I still can't believe he left the smithy to Paul after all. It was never really proved he was his son."
"He's a good lad at heart though."
"Early morning walks, that's the thing. Getting out into the fresh air, giving the old bones a bit of an airing…"
"I didn't even know we had a senior tea party committee. Why was I never invited to any tea parties?"
"SHUT UP!"
Falling suddenly silent the room turned multiple pairs of surprised eyes on the older Grimm. Wilhelm gave a mask-like smile and continued with forced calm: "Right. If someone could be so good as to describe the Petermännchen to us? It is of vital importance to the whole mission." 'Are we getting paid enough for this?' he wondered to himself.
An elderly man with a face like something that had been left out to dry and never been recognized to take back in since, was the first to answer: "Well, no one has seen him for years. But my old granny always told me he looks kinda like a dwarf."
"A dwarf?" repeated Wilhelm with a deadpan look.
"Well, kinda. Small, you know. And with a long beard and this funny pointed hat if I remember correctly."
"Funny hat. And small." Will summarized in a slow tone that conferred that this evil spirit could do with an image counsel, as it couldn't hope to inspire lots of dread fitted out like this.
The man seemed to pick up this scepticism and went on, waving his arms around to emphasize his words: "Yeah, kinda small, but he has these, you know, magic powers. He picks you up in the air and throws you around with these magic powers of his and then kills you stone-dead, smashing your body onto a marble step. That's how they found everybody who ever tried to take the treasure and failed: Lying on this white marble step with a broken neck."
His good audience reacted appropriately with hushed murmuring and lots of spitting to ward off evil influences.
After the sound of several ounces of saliva hitting the floor had died down, the man turned to the brothers whose quizzical expressions he apparently took for concern: "But don't worry about that. The Petermännchen is very dangerous and evil, but he sticks to his word. If you get the right dog he won't harm you."
Puzzlement painted an interesting, though rather abstract picture on the brother's faces: "Huh? What dog?"
"The seventh." the man retorted as if that was perfectly obvious.
"We have to take a special dog along too???" Wilhelm wondered if the sanity to question at this point was maybe his own.
"No, the tops of the pillars are in the form of dog's heads. In the original riddle the word is 'dog', but what is meant is 'pillar'." the man explained in a very clear and loud voice, as if speaking to a child.
This earned him a careful frown from the older Grimm: "Have you been neglecting your chess lately?"
If the subtle offence in that comment had been recognized by the man, he didn't show it: "No, really, you can see for yourselves tonight."
"Tonight?" Will hastily shook his head. "Nooo, I'm afraid that won't be possible. We need one more day to work out our strategy. This seems to be rather complex."
"It is perfectly straightforward actually, you just …" Bertwin started but was interrupted by Wilhelm's snapping patience:
"IT IS COMPLEX!"
Taking another deep breath he fought once more to regain his composure, but couldn't keep the strain out of his voice completely: "We're going to work out a strategy, an expensive strategy I'm afraid, and recover the treasure tomorrow night. If you'll excuse us now, we have a lot of calculations to do …"
Interpreting this statement as the closing point of the meeting, the mayor took the word again: "Well, as you say, of course. Gives us a little more time to work on the pension scheme. What do you say people? Towns-meeting at Alfred's inn for a round of ale and a bit of civic spirit?"
While the assembled citizens cheered their approval, the mayor turned back to the brothers: "Sure you don't want to join us, sirs?"
"No thanks, I think I've got a headache coming on." Will replied stiffly.
Jake gave him an odd look. It wasn't like his brother to keep away from amusement and people who were ready to admire him.
When the last of the citizens had filed out of the room, Will closed the door very carefully and then started banging his head against it with a suffering cry. "Aaaarggh!"
Jacob didn't bother to look over, as he had already grabbed pen and paper to jot down what they'd be needing. "Stop it. We have to set up a plan."
Will turned to the younger one with a tortured look: "Gah, but these people, they were …"
"At least it wasn't just hysteric females, swooning over you and throwing their bosoms around." his brother commented dryly.
"Oh come on, female bosoms suit me a lot better than old men's ailments ."
"If you say so." Jake returned, not really interested.
"Are you trying to imply …?" the older man started, sounding angry.
Finally Jacob looked up at his brother, sighing: "I'm not trying to imply anything." And sounding tired he added: "Could we just concentrate on the job at hand please? Tomorrow night we have to convincingly present a dwarf with telekinetic powers. And a funny hat."