Chapter 8.
Reinhardt traveled by coach to the Campbell Club. It was a large Victorian looking building with a tall metal fence surrounding it. At each corner of the roof of the building the Union Jack flapped away in the wind. The inside of the Club was no different. It was decorated with many iconic images of Great Britain. Knight's armors a framed copy of the Magna Carta to name a few of the objects on display. The building was composed of various libraries and sitting rooms where self-respecting gentlemen could read and discuss the paper or a book from their own private collection. Reinhardt requested to meet the owner of the club, Samuel Campbell. Reinhardt was taken to his private office, which was a large room lined with bookcases on either side. A beautiful walnut desk was the centerpiece with a large window behind it. Mr. Campbell stood and took Reinhardt's hand.
"How can I help you Mr. Schneider?" Campbell smiled like a man with all the confidence in the world. His dark hair was combed straight back and he wore a brown flannel jacket over a red vest and white shirt.
"Currently I am assisting the Municipal Police in their investigation of the murder of three of your club members. I wanted to know if your position as club founder and general friend to all your members you could give some information as to what their dealings were up until their deaths."
"Of course, I should want to help in any way."
"Let us start with the banker, Joseph Schwartz."
"Joseph I know was having some trouble at home, he and his wife were having arguments. He openly admitted to me that he loathed being at home. He much preferred work. Why? I have no idea. It was something that had been building for some time but recently it exploded with him just abandoning his wife whenever he could. He even went so far as to begin bringing his work here to the club. I have some of his documents should you want to see them."
Reinhardt nodded and watched as Campbell rose up from his seat to search a cabinet in the room's corner. Campbell continued talking as he brought and handed the batch of papers to Reinhardt. The papers were held together by a string of rope tied around them. Reinhardt unfastened the rope and began to peruse the papers. They were composed of mainly charts listing recent bank transactions that Schwartz had taken care of himself. Reinhardt noted a name that appeared with great frequency, Malory Ulysses Svenson. He would have to ask Campbell if he knew the name.
Henry sat quietly with his head buried in a book. Several hours of reading through mystical texts would do that to someone. Rosa walked into the library with a tray of coffee and two cups. She patted Henry on the head and he gave a soft groan.
"Working hard?"
Henry groaned again. He lifted his head and stretched. "These mystical texts are sometimes hard to decipher. They say one thing yet may mean another. Some of it is all rubbish, other parts, however fantastical are fact."
"Have you found anything that might help Reinhardt?"
Henry smiled. "Mortecon," Henry said simply.
Rosa mouthed the word and dared not say it for some reason. Henry continued his explanation. "It was something I noticed by accident. Apparently it is like all Hallows Eve. Supposedly it is a time of the year that the dead can become one with the living. Hallows Eve is only one night. Mortecon, can last for an entire month. The reason it does not happen every year and at a specific month is because it happens only during a month where every other night is a full moon."
"You think perhaps some long dead beast has come back for this month of Mortecon?"
"It's possible." Henry rubbed his eyes. "I hope so."
"You don't want it to be your friend, do you?"
"I don't even know if I can call him a friend. He saved my life once, when I was child. But then he…"
Rosa placed a hand on his shoulder. "You still love her?"
Henry nodded silently. "Foolish, isn't it?"
"Love is like that." Rosa gleaned over the book he was studying. "There is one thing you have overlooked. These murders seem to have motive. All three were part of the same men's club. Their professions leave one wondering if there is a practical connection."
Henry nodded. "Reinhardt is at the club talking to the owner. He is investigating that side, I'm working the supernatural angle of this case." Henry scratched his head. "A very odd case indeed."
"Rosa sipped from her cup as well and then sighed." I suppose I'll leave you to your reading. Do you have any idea when Carrie will return?"
"None at all." Henry proceeded to read some more of the book before him. After Rosa left the room Henry checked to see that she was out of earshot and then dropped his head into the book and drifted back to sleep.
Rosa made her way to the garden. Rosa breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the greenhouse. The scent of white roses comforted her and she felt as though she was flying on a sea of grass. She loved to be in the small shack filled with the lifeblood of nature itself. The fact that Reinhardt had made it with his bare hands just for her made it feel thrice as warm and relaxing. It was a physical testament to his love for her. Rosa clutched her belly and thought that soon there would be yet another symbol of their love for each other. Her thoughts then drifted to Michael. Against every instinct as a mother she sent Michael away to her mother's home. She always went with him and never sent him with anyone except his own father and perhaps Henry. She felt something foreboding, something dangerous on the horizon. These murders are not what they seem to be. Against all logic, for the sake of the baby she carried in her womb, she should have left with Michael. Something kept her here. She did not know what. It was at that moment that it began to happen again. Suddenly Rosa's vision blurred. Her beautiful white roses turned blood red before her eyes. Were it not for Henry's sweet dreams, he would have heard Rosa screaming.