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  RETURN TO PARLOR CITY

  BY

  ARNO B. ZIMMER

  Return To Parlor City Copyright Page

  Copyright © 2016 Arno B. Zimmer

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Ludwig Von Braun

  CHAPTER ONE

  A Detective Once More

  CHAPTER TWO

  Stella in Havana

  CHAPTER THREE

  Scene at Wattle’s Cottage

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Traber’s Horse Farm

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Boys Eavesdropping

  CHAPTER SIX

  In Jerry’s Basement

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  At the Movies

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Back to the Library

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Wattles in Tampa

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Cuban Cabal

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Nose

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Big Red Has Troubles

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A Visitor from the Capital

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Devil’s Corner

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Death Comes to the Institute

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A Treacherous Ride Home

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Where’s Bobby Mildrake?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Just Like the Old Days

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Con Artist Returns

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Fogarty’s Hideaway

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Other Mr. Kosinsky

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The Waiting Game

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Panic at the Lake

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The Swap

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Departures

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Ludwig Von Braun

  It was 1954 and Ludwig Von Braun was living a solitary existence in Stuttgart, Germany. His parents had died and he toiled on as a low level assistant manager at the Bundesbank offices in this bustling city in the southwest state of Baden-Wurttemberg.

  Woodrow Braun, whose father had dropped the Von from their family name, was born in America and lived in the small town of Parlor City. He had never communicated with let alone met his nephew and, in fact, hadn’t the slightest urge to visit the Motherland even though, before the war, he loved to boast about descending from the noble Germanic race. So, it surprised Woodrow when he received a letter from Ludwig informing him that a framed photograph of his forefathers was being sent to him and, furthermore, that he could anticipate a visit to Parlor City within weeks.

  Except for his raucous golf and drinking buddies, Braun was not a social animal and he was generally in a foul mood ever since his son had vanished from Parlor City, leaving behind a wife and young child as constant reminders that only served to reinforce his bitterness. Braun could no longer tolerate Parlor City, as if the town was responsible for his son’s disappearance. He was in the process of selling his lumber business along with most of his real estate holdings in preparation for a relocation to Arizona. A nephew visiting from Germany was an unwelcome intrusion.

  Braun remembered seeing a picture of young Ludwig in a family photo. He stood out because he was small and sickly looking with the spindling legs of an old man, not exactly a fitting emblem of his Teutonic heritage. It had disgusted Braun when he had looked at that photo, as if Ludwig had intentionally dishonored the family history by not growing up to be a hale, robust German like himself.

  The last thing Braun wanted to do was entertain a distant relative with whom he had nothing in common. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of sharing Ludwig’s letter with his wife who had immediately sent the nephew a cordial response extending an open invitation.

  Ludwig Von Braun was a cypher of a man. With sallow skin and thinning blonde hair carefully parted down the middle, he looked as if he could almost vanish into the atmosphere, be swallowed up in the ether without notice. Eventually, someone might say in a casual, insouciant way, “Oh, has anyone seen Ludwig?”

  Ludwig had been a serious boy who had grown into a serious and, some would say, dour man. He was a reliable if not dedicated bank employee and lived alone in a modest apartment near the Schlossgarten, one of the many beautiful parks throughout Stuttgart. He was a quiet but keenly observant man with a stern, humorless demeanor. Some colleagues at the Bundesbank joked that if his facial muscles were exercised, his face might crack open.

  But Ludwig did feel things deeply even if his zest for life had been short-lived, literally snuffed out during the war. He had met and fallen in love with the frail, delicate Alice Hirsch, a clerk at the Schocken Department Store. There had been no physical intimacy between these two timid creatures and yet they found occasions to express their affection for each other during infrequent outings to the music hall and the ballet.

  When the Gestapo set up headquarters in Stuttgart, everything changed virtually overnight. If Ludwig came into the store, Alice would scamper away. After a transfer camp for Jews was set up on the outskirts of the city, Ludwig became concerned and rushed to the store to warn Alice but she was gone.

  Frantically, he turned to his father, then a well-respected engineer working in Gottlieb Daimler’s gas engine factory. The Weimar Republic was crumbling and Germans everywhere started to take sides. Ludwig’s father was a compassionate man but he counselled silence and his son obeyed.

  Within a few months, Ludwig heard that the transfer camp had been emptied and all of the detainees had been moved to the south of France. After that, there was no trace of them for years, until an accounting of Nazi atrocities was completed after the end of the war.

  ***

  Unqualified for military duty, and through his father’s influence, Ludwig was enrolled in the state school to study accounting rather than his choice of the local music academy. As it turned out, Ludwig was a financial whiz but his academic success only deepened his resentment. When he was offered a job at the Bundesbank, he accepted it without hesitation but also without joy.

  Long after the war ended, Ludwig carried bitterness and shame with him as if he was culpable for Alice Hirsch’s disappearance. The only memento of his long-lost love was a small picture of Alice taken in an arcade on the Konigstrasse during one of their excursions. A day never passed that Ludwig would not take out that tattered photo and gaze at it through misty eyes in the solitude of his apartment.

  As a release, Ludwig would walk aimlessly around Stuttgart, hardly noticing that Hitler’s name had been scrubbed from sidewalks and sand-blasted from buildings. His favorite haunt was the Ludwigburg Palace, an ornate structure which merged baroque, rococo and neoclassical traditions. There, he would stroll endlessly, dreaming of Alice Hirsch and plotting his revenge.

  ***

  As the post-war years rolled by, Ludwig was passed over several times for promotion at the Bundesbank. When h
e heard stories about trafficking in his country’s gold bearer bonds issued to U.S. citizens back in the 1920s, his curiosity was aroused. Apparently, some of the bonds issued in America long before the war had made their way back to German banks. He had also observed, and felt a growing resentment, that some bank officers not very senior to him were living well, certainly beyond the means of their modest salaries.

  One day after work, Ludwig surprised Oskar Speidel by asking him to stop at the Neckarblick Biergarten, a favorite drinking spot overlooking the River Neckar. Oskar was a garrulous man, popular with his fellow workers. He was also the manager overseeing the bank vault, among his other duties.

  Ludwig had carefully planned what he would say to Oskar. He laid out a hypothetical case of the U.S. gold bearer bonds “disappearing” from the vault and somehow landing in the hands of a trusted friend in America. Now, if these bonds could be authenticated as having been issued in the United States, couldn’t the conspirators redeem the bonds and make a considerable amount of money?

  Oskar Speidel enjoyed the good life. He had a bucolic retreat in the Black Forest for excursions to hunt red deer and Russian boar. He also took vacations on the French coast. To support his lifestyle, Ludwig was certain that Oskar needed a continuous flow of money well above his salary. Oskar was a careful man and reacted with bemusement when Ludwig laid out his hypothetical scheme. He laughed as he finished his beer but his mind was churning even though he said nothing. Could Ludwig be a plant? What did he know? Could he be trusted? Oskar said nothing but slammed down his empty mug just a little too hard and smiled at Ludwig a little too long before giving him a friendly cuff on the back.

  On his slow walk home, Ludwig felt that he had succeeded in his initial objective. Oskar had not told him he was crazy and he felt certain that his co-worker was chewing on the scheme that Ludwig had laid out. Ludwig never showed any expression of joy but one could see, if looking very closely, that an almost imperceptible, malevolent grin has formed at the corners of his mouth.

  Ludwig had been correct in thinking that Oskar Speidel assumed he was motivated by self-aggrandizement like the other schemers at the Bundesbank. They would learn the shocking truth when Ludwig exposed them all.

  ***

  When Ludwig’s train arrived in Parlor City in the spring of 1955, he felt awkward and out of place but knew he was in way too deep to back out now. His initial meeting with Oskar Speidel had led to others, resulting in an agreement to funnel purloined bonds out of Germany to Ludwig’s contact in the United States. On the boat trip over, Ludwig had steeled himself to accept some discomfort and not let it interfere with his plan. At the Braun house, he noticed that the old family portrait he had mailed in advance was in a prominent place on the mantle above the fireplace.

  After dinner with Braun and his wife at an “authentic” German restaurant that only exacerbated an already roiling stomach, Ludwig sat quietly in the den, waiting for the right moment to open up. After a few minutes of small talk, Adele Braun announced that she was retiring for the evening and Woodrow practically leaped up as if eager to follow his wife. She turned to her husband with a look of surprise and, her sense of propriety overriding fear of her belligerent spouse, nodded sternly for him to sit back down. She might regret it later but, at the moment, refused to be used as a ploy by him to abandon his nephew while the night was still young.

  After his wife had scampered up the stairs, Braun sat down heavily in his over-sized chair and looked at his nephew with brooding anticipation but not before making a mental note to deal with his wife’s impertinent behavior. He was starting to fidget like a child who had been told to sit still for acting up one too many times in front of the adults.

  Braun finally looked at his nephew and recalled the Charles Atlas bodybuilding advertisement he had seen in the morning newspaper. It dawned on him that puny Ludwig would be the perfect model for the “97-lb. weakling” in the cartoon. He smiled as he considered secretly signing Ludwig up for the mail order course when his nephew broke the silence. Ludwig started haltingly while looking plaintively at his uncle, “Might we take a few moments to discuss some family business before retiring?”

  Braun grunted and Ludwig continued. “I was wondering if you had taken the time to examine the family photograph I sent you, Woodrow. It is a beautiful antique frame, don’t you think? It’s been in the family for years” Ludwig said softly. Braun mumbled something about being appreciative and then looked around the room as if he was inventorying its contents, intent on avoiding eye contact with his nephew.

  “Please examine the frame carefully and I will tell you a story that you will find very interesting.” Ludwig’s voice had risen an octave and he was staring intently at Braun, who, his interest marginally aroused, slowly rose and walked ponderously over to the mantle and picked up the heavy, ornate frame. Until now, he had not even touched it, having left the unpacking of the unwelcome gift to his wife.

  Braun sat down, turning the frame over and back as if he expected it to suddenly reveal its secret. Ludwig stood up and walked toward Braun and said, “Woodrow, you need to pry off the back of the frame.”

  Heavy-handedly, Braun began gouging the corner of the frame with his pocket knife as if he was an anxious child opening a Christmas present. Ludwig grabbed Braun’s arm and exclaimed “Be delicate, Woodrow, be delicate, please.”

  With the back of the frame removed, Braun was looking at some folded documents laying against the back of the family photograph as Ludwig hovered above him. “Open them, Woodrow, and tell me what you see” said Ludwig, his face now coloring and his lips parted.

  Braun was a successful businessman but he was no financier, leaving money issues to his accountants and bankers. He unfolded the papers and stared at the pages in bewilderment, as if he were being asked to read hieroglyphics. His first reaction was impatient anger that Ludwig had goaded him on only to show him some ancient family documents.

  “They are German bearer bonds, Uncle, worth their weight in gold and redeemable at the specified date in 1956 by any American who possesses them. No questions asked. Do you understand now? There are many more like them if you care to hear more. So you see, I didn’t come all the way from Stuttgart for a family reunion.”

  Braun was slack-jawed. He was quickly developing a newfound respect for his sylph-like nephew who proceeded to explain the process of redeeming the bonds and how to do so without raising suspicion.

  Before Ludwig departed two days later, they had laid out a plan whereby bonds would arrive from Stuttgart on a regular basis and would be placed in a safe deposit box at Braun’s bank. When the redemptions took place in 1956, funds would be deposited in a separate account established for Ludwig at another bank, from which they could then be transferred to an account in Switzerland. Ludwig explained to Braun more than once that he had partners back in Stuttgart who were very anxious about protecting their investment.

  Braun’s wife was surprised but said nothing when she saw the sudden affection that her husband was now showing this distant nephew whom he had disdained just days earlier. When he took Ludwig to his club for lunch with former Governor Stewart Traber, she tried to imagine the meek, diminutive nephew conversing with those two blowhards and, not normally a demonstrative woman, laughed boisterously while wondering what had transpired that first night in the den after she went to bed.

  ***

  When Braun put Ludwig on the train, he was convivial to the point that Ludwig was uncomfortable with his false show of bonhomie. He had taken the measure of his Uncle and was not entirely pleased with the partner he had chosen for his adventurous scheme. “I have crossed the Rubicon” he said to himself, knowing that there was no turning back now.

  Ludwig knew that Oskar Speidel was only the front man for a group of powerful men who would exact their revenge if anything went awry with his plunge into the financial underworld. He just prayed that his Uncle was up to the simple task assigned to him.

  ***

  For
several months after Ludwig returned to Stuttgart, packages arrived at the Braun house and their contents were quickly transferred to a safety deposit box at the Parlor City National Bank. Braun did move to Arizona but not until all the German bearer bonds had been safely stashed away. When the redemption date arrived, he would return to Parlor City to complete his part of the scheme. What Braun did not tell Ludwig was that he had brought a partner into their little enterprise, former Gov. Stewart Traber.

  Ludwig was impatient waiting for the bonds to be redeemed and wondered if he had erred in putting so much trust in his American uncle. There was talk of Germany re-arming for the first time since the war and that pleased the likes of Oskar Speidel. If Chancellor Adenauer pushed his military bill through the Bundesrat and Bundestag, Ludwig feared that a militaristic Germany would rise again and be dominated by warmongers. But Ludwig was constrained from expressing himself for fear of alienating Speidel. Once Braun had deposited funds in the Swiss bank account, Ludwig would be free to expose them all. In the meantime, he kept a diary detailing every bond that was sent to America.

  ***

  Personal as well as family business brought Woodrow Braun from Arizona back to his home town earlier than he expected. In the summer of 1955, all hell had broken loose in sleepy Parlor City. Murder, suicide, a massive swindle at the Parlor City Institute and other assorted crimes engulfed the town. By the time it was all over, the overbearing and pompous Woodrow Braun, a brute who had forever made victims of others, had been swept up in the maelstrom.

  A year later, in early 1956, he was lying in a bed at the Parlor City Institute, drifting in and out of consciousness, occasionally dreaming of German bearer bonds. In one of his lucid periods, he contacted former Gov. Traber and asked him to come to the Institute, at which time he gave him the matching key to the safety deposit box containing the bonds, feeling that he had nowhere else to turn.

  CHAPTER ONE

  A Detective Once More

  Chief Billy Meacham, Jr. sat at his desk with a half-suppressed, self-satisfied grin on his face, knowing for sure that he had made the right decision. Meacham had gained a few pounds after he stopped smoking a pack of camels a day and while not exactly stout, he was self-conscious about his expanding waist. He chose to blame it on his desk job and was convinced that the move he was about to make would re-energize him – and slim him down in the process.