Too Pretty For The Hills Read online

  ''I’m sorry, Greta. The Zieglers?''

  ''The Zieglers, yes, sweetness. We talked about them yesterday at lunch, remember? They’re the couple that are so crazy about fancy art. Anyway, I told them you'd be visiting.''

  ''Okay. I guess I’ll head over there now and ... Oh, but I don’t have a house key to lock up and Errol’s at work.''

  ''There’s one in the yellow cup next to the sink, sweety. You just go see the Zieglers and have a nice time. Now here’s how you get there ...''

  After the call had ended, Dora quickly washed her plate, wrapped the remains of the gigantic meal in tinfoil, and went up into the attic and changed into something less comfortable.

  She exited the house and locked the door with the key that she found where Greta said it would be, and nearly fell over the dog, who was now sunning himself blissfully on the door matt.

  ''God damn it, Adolf! I could have fallen and broken my ...''

  Suddenly she froze.

  The sinister old neighbour was standing on the other lot right by the fence and looking over at her. In the daylight, she appeared even ghastlier than at night. She wore a silky cloth with laces as pale as her skin, which was full of wrinkles and creases, her grey hair dead and dried out, her figure thin and rickety.

  ''Oh ... Good day,'' Dora heard herself stutter. Putting her manners before her intuition, she walked over to the fence to greet the old creature, at the same time furious with herself for being so compelled by social propriety. ''My Name is Dora. I'm the new ...''

  ''Are they gone?'' the woman interrupted with a hoarse voice. She coughed a cough reminiscent of a 30-year chain smoker, then repeated the question. ''Are they gone?''

  Dora noticed that the woman had not blinked even once. She reminded her of an illustration of the old witch in Hansel and Grettel, the scene in which she reveals her true colors. There was nothing pleasant about her.

  ''Is who gone?''

  ''The man and the woman! Are they gone?''

  Dora flinched as something rubbed agains her leg. It was the St. Bernard. It seemed as if it had come to her rescue, if not all that energetically.

  She cleared her throat. ''I’m sorry for what happened to your husband and son. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get going.''

  But just as she was about to turn away, the old woman suddenly reached over and grabbed her arm.

  ''What are you doing!''

  ''You’re coming with me!''

  ''Let go of me!''

  The dog jumped up on the fence and started barking.

  ''Let go right now!'' Dora cried, desperately trying to pry herself out of the woman's cold grip.

  ''Be quiet, you stupid girl!''

  ''Help! Someone help me!''

  She landed a punch on the woman's face, but it wasn't enough to free her. The woman was unrelenting, and was beginning to overpower Dora entirely and literally drag her over the fence.

  ''Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?'' A man appeared on the street, jumped the fence and came running toward them. Seeing him approaching, the old woman finally let go, shooting Dora one last bone-chilling look before disappearing into her house.

  ''Miss Dora, it's OK, calm down!”

  ''You’re that tutor!''

  ''No need to shout. Yes, I'm Nicolaus.''

  He put his arm around Dora's trembling shoulders and took her down to the street, where he ushered her into an old, brown SUV.

  ''Now do you mind telling me what the hell that was all about? What happened?''

  She pointed to the old woman's house.

  ''It’s that old bat! She grabbed me as I was leaving and refused to let go! And late last night when everyone was asleep she tried to lure me into her house!''

  ''That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. That woman is batshit crazy. A while ago I had a run-in with her that almost cost me my life.''

  ''So you actually know her?''

  Nicolaus glanced over at the house with his wolfy eyes and scratched his cheek.

  ''Know her?'' he muttered. ''You bet I do. Ever since I started working with the Dietrichs, I’ve had problems with her. She would spy on me as I came and visited the kids, but there were other, much less innocent incidents as well. She managed to dig up my phone number and from then on she would call so often I finally had to change it. Another time she sneaked into my car. I forgot to lock it, and sure enough she sniffed it out. Only after had I driven away, did she jump on me from behind my seat, wanted to hug me rather too passionately - I suspect she had been harboring romantic intentions, despite showing it in a very unsettling way - and I swerved off the road and nearly hit a tree.''

  Dora was appalled.

  ''That’s crazy!''

  ''Yes, she’s nuttier than a squirrel turd, like I said.'' He tapped her on the knee to reassure her. ''You said you were going somewhere?''

  ''What? Oh, yes, I ... I was going to pay the Zieglers a visit ...''

  ''The Zieglers, huh? The cream of the town. He occasionally invites me over for a little political debate – ‘headbumping’ as he calls it. Though I can’t really say that I particularly ... Hm, their house isn’t all that close by. You were planning on walking there in this heat? How about I just drive you?''

  Dora only nodded, still gazing over at the boarded-up house as Nicolaus started up the car and drove off.

  She had had run-ins with lunatics before; one time a couple of bums had taken offense at the ten cents she gave them and chased after her. But this took the cake.

  ''That was surreal just now.''

  Nicolaus looked over at her and the corner of his mouth twitched.

  ''What it is with you and Gypsies, anyway? Literally from the moment you arrived, you’ve been having trouble with them. First that boy tries to pick your pocket and now this demented scarecrow ...''

  ''Wait, how did you know about that boy?''

  ''Are you serious? In a small town like this news gets around. We got a lot of blabber-mouths. Not bad people, just chatterboxes.''

  The vicar was apparently out taking a stroll in his civilian attire and having a chat with some old, Gypsie man by the side of the road. He waved at Dora as she passed, but she was was too caught up in her own thoughts to notice.

  ''Either way, I reckon you’ve survived this little baptism by fire and the Gypsies’ll leave you alone now for good. Greta is so very fond of you,'' Nicolaus added, ''and the kids as well. How long do you suppose you’ll be staying?''

  ''This is crazy!'' Dora snapped, refusing to just drop it. ''It’s the big cities that are supposed to be dangerous, but here I am out in the countryside only to have some lunatic clan perform their twisted shenanigans on me!''

  Nicolaus chuckled.

  ''Don’t laugh, this is not a joke!''

  ''No, I know it's not, I’m sorry. Just that I wouldn’t really call them a clan. But yes, I completely understand how you feel. Heck, if I were in your shoes, I would have been appalled too. And outraged. But I guess I’ve gotten used to these wackos. For what it’s worth, you can be sure that nothing really bad could have happened to you back there even if it looked a little scary. The Gypsies aren't really dangerous, just pesky.''

  ''Everyone keeps saying that! But you didn’t see the look in her eyes! And she tried to yank me over the fence, for God’s sake! I could have sworn she intended to ...''

  She paused.

  ''To what?''

  ''To eat me.''

  Nicolaus snorted, trying not to burst out laughing, yet he was quickly forced to straighten his face when he saw how angry his good-humored indifference was making Dora.

  ''Eat you? Now come on, Miss Dora, that poor woman just wanted a new playmate, that's all. Although I do admit you'd be wise not to stand so close to the fence the next time she happens to come out.''

  ''Right, thanks for the tip, I really appreciate it! And by the way, what were you doing there? Why did you stop by the house? I thought you only visited the kids late in the afternoon.''

>   The recent incident had enflamed her paranoia and all of a sudden she was looking with palpable distrust at this rugged, dark-haired man sitting behind the wheel.

  ''Actually I came to see you,'' he said. ''I wanted to say hello and introduce myself properly. Yesterday I was in a bit of a hurry. And also scatterbrained, though I reckon that’s partially on you for startling me with your gorgeous smile.''

  Dora blinked a couple of times, his words eventually managing to bypass the layer of outrage and shock.

  ''I have a boyfriend,'' she blurted out to the surprise of both.

  For a moment, neither spoke.

  ''Right. I mean - uh - naturally you do.''

  ''I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ...''

  ''I meant introduce myself as a friend.''

  Dora stared out the window, while Nicolaus sat there like an awkward schoolboy, not really knowing what to say. Eventually he collected himself, clearing his throat and uttering the first of what would become several awkward clichés.

  A few minutes later they reached their destination, a bizarrely uneven-looking house that appeared as if it had been designed by a half-blind or at least half-facetious architect. It was painted mostly in pink hues, its second story peeking up over the rest of the houses.

  A few kids were playing, shouting and smiling and jumping rope and chasing each other left and right on a geometric shape they drew with crayons in the middle of the road.

  ''This one here?''

  ''The odd one, yes.''

  ''Right. Well thanks for the lift, Nicolaus. And of course for saving me back there. That was crazy.''

  ''Don’t mention it. And don’t worry about those folks. You’ll get used to them and they’ll start to leave you alone as you do. Should I wait for you, though? Are you just dropping something off? I kind of have a little bit more time to kill and could drive you back if you wanted.''

  ''No, that’s okay. I might be a while.''

  She got out of the car, but turned before closing the door.

  ''Listen, Nicolaus. If you'd like to have tea or coffee some time, just stop by. Or we could go for a walk, the two of us. I mean, whatever.''

  He smiled. ''Right, whatever.''

  ''Oh, and, uh ... I don’t really have a boyfriend. Don’t know why I said that.''

  ''That’s OK. I’ll gladly take you up on your offer either way.''

  He winked at her and she looked away from his expressive eyes.

  ''You do that ...''

  She closed the door and watched Nicolaus’ car head off down the street. Then she turned and started for the big pink house, trying to chase away thoughts of the old neighbor.

  10

  Even if Dora hadn't been informed as to the Zieglers’ cultural pedigree, it wouldn't have taken her long to figure it out. Their walls were decked out in art of all genres and eras. A particularly rich Indian incense was in the air, and the sound of classical music was coming from somewhere in the apartment, most likely from an old gramophone. And last but definitely not least, there was the way the couple carried themselves.

  The Zieglers were in their late thirties, both slightly taller than Dora. Erica Ziegler had a long, slim face and curly dark hair and her husband Dominic looked more like her twin brother.

  ''My goodness!'' Erica exclaimed, shaking hands with Dora. ''Greta certainly wasn’t exaggerating. You are a picture of beauty!''

  ''Give the poor girl some breathing room, Erica,'' her husband good-naturedly chimed in in an almost comedically snobbish, nasal tone.

  ''Of course, I'm sorry. Forgive me, Dora. It’s just that I've been so excited to meet you ever since Greta called us. And now you finally show up, looking cute as a kitten, so I'm naturally a little overenthusiastic. Come, come, let’s not just stand out here in the hallway. Coffee or tea? Or something else, perhaps? Hot chocolate?''

  ''Tea would be great, thank you,'' Dora replied, reflexively bowing just a little in response to the courtly behavior of her hosts.

  Continuing the trend from the hallway, the spacious living room was replete with various forms of art, carved artifacts, bookshelves filled to the ceiling, and even paintings on the ceiling itself that would have made Michelangelo do a double-take.

  ''I know what you’re thinking,'' Dominic said, smiling at how stunned Dora was. ''You’re thinking there's such a thing as moderation.''

  ''No, not at all. It’s just a lot to take in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.''

  Erica left for the kitchen to get the tea started.

  ''Dora, have a seat.''

  ''Thank you, Mr. Ziegler.''

  ''Please, just call me Dominic.'' He went to the gramophone and turned the volume down so they could talk and was flipping through some of the records as if debating whether to put on a different one.

  Prying her gaze from the ceiling and looking at him from the side, Dora realised something. ''We’ve met, haven’t we? Yesterday, by the church? You were jogging by and said hi to the vicar.''

  ''No, I don’t think so,'' he said, smiling.

  ''Are you sure?'' she persisted, almost certain it had been him under that baseball cap. But he quickly changed the subject.

  ''So how are you settling in? Do you find our little community to your liking?''

  ''It’s really nice,” she said, trying to conceal her obvious lack of conviction.

  ''It is, isn’t it?'' Dominic concurred, not picking up on it. ''A little slice of heaven out here in the hills.''

  ''Chopin, isn’t it?'' Dora asked.

  ''I’m sorry?''

  ''Chopin. This song we’re listening to.''

  ''Oh, right, yes. Chopin.''

  ''Or is it Liszt? I always confuse the two for whatever reason.''

  ''It’s one or the other,'' he said dryly, nodding gently and tapping his foot to the rythm of the piano.

  ''Do you play?'' Dora asked, looking over at the piano that somehow managed to find space in the crammed living room.

  ''Erica does, but I’m afraid I don’t. Never learned an instrument back when I was younger and now I don’t think it would make any sense to even attempt it. What about you? Surely you must have been quite interested in art when you were a little girl?''

  ''I was, actually. My grandmother made me pick it up. She was a professional painter. I drew all the time from early childhood through middle school. But ironically, ever since I got my degree, I haven't been all that active.''

  ''Why is that?''

  Dora smiled bitterly. ''There was a thing my father used to say when I was in college. He said that in this day and age artists were a dime a dozen. Or rather, in his words, there were so many of them they fed them to the pigs.''

  ''What an awful thing to say!'' Dominic exclaimed.

  ''Maybe,'' Dora continued, ''but he was right. The market was saturated back then and it's even moreso these days. I just can’t make a living painting, and I’ve tried, believe me. Too much competition. Or maybe I’m just not talented enough.''

  Dominic watched her for a while as if observing a museum artifact, then said in a quasi-pedantic tone: ''Well, be that as it may, I assure you that artists are as rare as hen’s teeth in these mountains. Before you arrived the closest thing Graufirst had to a local artist were the Kundert brothers. They are hunters and awfully creative - don’t ask me how exactly those two things mix - so it was apparently only natural for them to start carving wood. But I say bark beetles make more attractive things out of it than they do.''

  He shook his head as if chasing away some unpleasant memory.

  ''We actually had to purchase one of their monstrosities to finally get them off our backs. It's gathering dust somewhere in the garage.''

  Erica came in carrying a tray of tea and pastries.

  ''Here we go,'' she said, placing a vintage antique porcelaine cup and saucer on the little glass table in front of Dora. ''What were you two talking about?''

  ''Oh, just that hawk statue the Kundert boys sold us, remember, dear?''r />
  ''That wretched thing?'' Erica grimaced. ''That's a hawk? I thought it was a big beaver.''

  ''For all I know it could be a mutant chipmonk. There’s no telling.''

  As they sipped their tea, Erica peppered Dora with questions about her life, and Dora's initial impression of a sophisticated and rather highbrowed woman began to fade. Erica had an overly enthusiastic way about her as well as the most shrill laughter Dora had ever heard. Dominic, on the other hand, had few reservations about measuring her with his eyes from top to bottom more than once.

  ''Has anyone ever told you look a lot like a young Heidelinde Weis?'' he said with a slight blush as she caught his eye during one such visual inspection.

  ''No, I can’t say they have.''

  ''Well you do. Remarkable.''

  ''Oh, Dominic,'' Erica rolled her eyes. ''You say that to every pretty young thing that catches your eye.''

  ''Is it my fault so many of them look like Heidelinde?''

  After a while, the small talk dwindled and the conversation turned to the real reason for Dora’s visit – the portrait. Erica took her to the garage to see whether the painting gear they had would be of any use.

  ''It’s really nice having someone like you around,'' she said as she and Dora were heading downstairs. ''Between you and me - there’s only so much debate with my husband I can stomach and the neighbors aren't exactly to my taste. Tell me again how long you’re staying in Graufirst?''

  She seemed intent on touching Dora at every chance she got.

  ''I can’t really say.''

  ''Oh. Well I certainly hope we can spend some time together. Just the two of us.''

  If the rest of the apartment could most aptly be described as crammed, it was hard to find an adjective to convey the state of the garage. It was jam-packed with cardboard boxes, various foil-wrapped artifacts, and stacks of everything imaginable, so tightly crammed together that the removal of one of the components would surely have made the whole thing come crashing down. Dora wondered how they even managed to open the doors of their SUV.