Part 1, Chapter 2 -- Mrs. Muller

Fall slowly started transitioning to winter as the temperature dropped during the day and set below freezing at night. It never failed, at 8 o' clock every morning, he and his dog would walk through the campus on their way to wherever they were headed. I assumed they aimed for the park that lay just over the railroad tracks. As soon as he passed that one morning in early October, I slid out of my dorm room and quickly walked in the opposite direction. I pulled the red scarf that I wore tighter against me for, as thick as the dark green turtle neck that I wore was, the wind still managed to find it chilling finger down my neck and up my back. My auburn hair was hastily pulled back and shoved under the black beret I always wore. The further I walked, the more tempted I was to let it down to offer my ears more protection against the elements. My purple gloves on my hands held tightly to the scrap of paper that had an address scrawled across it in my near childish handwriting.

We had been given an assignment in History class that involved interviewing a local within the community about their Wartime experience. The teacher had passed out a list of names and we had to choose, it never occurred to me that the woman that I had unfortunately picked had been the Muller's wife. I only learned afterward of my grave mistake from the upper class men and through out that week prior to the scheduled date of my meeting with the old woman, I received looks from them as though I was going to be set up in front of a firing squad or was headed on my last walk to the gallows. I still did not understand why they made such a big deal of it; the Muller that I had run into had not lived up to the reputation that had been given to him. As I was walking, trying to get rid of the sickening feeling in my stomach, my eyes were attached to the sky, gray and over cast; my mind tried to think of other things other than the task ahead of me: I really hope it snows.

What was I doing? I did not know why I was so afraid… nervous… what ever feelings I was having right now. I was not dealing with the Muller himself, I was merely dealing with his wife and I had never heard any stories about what a horrible person she was. There had not been any circulation of tales about how she was some commie spy in disguise or how she had tortured and killed poor college students in her back yard. I paused for a moment to think: perhaps there was and I had not been keen enough to hear them or had not been worthy enough to be informed of them. Oh good lord. As much as I tried to think of other things ranging from the weather, to questions, to what my father was doing back home, even to the squirrel scratching through the leaf litter near the side walk, my mind kept coming back to what I was supposed to do: the meeting.

I swallowed hard; this was going to be a long day. I walked on, it seemed to take for ever, yet I kept checking the watch at my wrist and merely a few minutes passed before I got to the street that they supposedly lived on. According to the directions, I was at the right place, yet when I looked down that lane, all city life seemed to drop away into forest. It appeared as though I had reached the very edge of the suburbs, yet it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Some small part of my imagination jumped into over drive as a gust of wind caused the leaves to dance across the street creating a scratching noise answered only by the dancing of the trees. Oh yes, this was an ideal place to hide a body if you were to commit a murder. My eyes darted from side to side as my feet refused to move even though my brain willed them onwards, for what felt like hours I stood their, the wind causing me to shiver as I tried to walk, my brain telling me to go forward, my primal instincts telling me to turn tail and run away.

Finally, I had a break through; my foot took a step forward.

I walked to one end of the street and stopped, checking the address.

I turned around and came back up, checking the address again.

Was this some sort of joke?

I tried the other side, just in case, and still nothing. This house that they lived in didn't exist apparently. Shaking my head I checked my wristwatch and gasped, I was already ten minutes late and I had completely forgotten to write down the woman's number to call her and tell her that I was going to be late. But where would I find a payphone around here? The only one I readily knew of was a few blocks in the other direction. I reacted upon the first impulse that came into my brain: I picked the first house that I came to and when up to their door, reached out and knocked. After a few minutes of waiting and attempting to figure out this baffling mystery that had suddenly come upon me, the door opened and a middle aged woman in a pale pink shirt stuck her head out and looked at me blankly. Obviously, the look on her face was look everyone gets when someone they do not know is standing at their door.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a delicate voice as all of a sudden a small, fluffy white dog came barreling out of the house barking at me madly. I jumped; it was a very loud animal for being so small. The woman looked stunned, "Snowy!" she raised her voice at the dog, as it stood up on its hind legs, putting its paws on my knees trying to get my attention. I looked down at it as the woman came out of the house and quickly took the dog in her arms, "I'm so sorry about that, he's always like that around strangers, we've tried to get him to stop…" she babbled out an apology as she put the dog back in the house and closed the door. "Now, sorry about all that… can I help you?" she half smiled.

I nodded my head, "I'm a student at the college…"

"Oh," she cut me off, "it's a lovely place isn't it? Wait till it starts snowing…"

I waited for her to stop before I held up the paper, "I'm looking for this address, ma'am, you know where it is?" I smiled, hoping she would say this house was difficult to find and prove that I'm not stupid and that my mind was not purposefully missing the address so that I did not have to run this interview with a possible murderer.

She took the piece of paper and looked at it for a few moments, her eyes widening before she looked back up to me, "Why on earth would you want to go there?"

I was slightly taken aback, "eh-he… I… it's… for a project… I…. need to find that house… uhm, I was supposed to be there ten minutes ago."

The woman handed me back the paper, "You're the first student from the college that has ever come this way looking for that address," she pointed down the street and then left, "you just keep going all the way down, there's a little side road and you turn, there's a few houses that way, your looking for an old blue one. It has dark blue gables and what not. You can't miss it."

I nodded my thanks as I pushed my Lennon-esque glasses back up my nose, "Thank you ma'am." I said, not really sure of what else to say after that odd transaction prior about why she wanted to know why I was going. Was there something she was not telling me? Was there something that I was completely missing out on as I hastily threw a glance over my shoulder? The sound of the mini-dog barking and scratching on the door brought me back to reality.

"You know, you're a very brave girl," the woman said as she turned to open her door again, she gave me another smile reminiscent of all the looks I received this past week as though this would be the last moments of my life.

I stared, "Why's that?" I asked, adjusting the beret that had slowly started slipping off my head, I pulled it up and reset it over my messy hair.

"Oh nothing," the woman bustled about, trying to get the keys from her pocket, "No ones been down this way for that address as far as I know and that's not surprising." I tilted my head, "The Muller's are an odd couple. I hope your doing that project with the woman because she's a very sweet old lady: Wouldn't hurt a fly if she could help it."

Before I can stop myself I asked, "what about him?"

The woman gave me a grave look, "The wife is very kind. She's a perfectly normal old woman, but her husband…" she shuttered, "Her husbands a complete lunatic…"

I felt my stomach drop out and my hands go clammy.

It took me all of another five minutes to find the house, but indeed, it was a fairly easy house to find once I knew where it was. A small side, cul-de-sac nestled nicely on the edge of town, not a bad place to live, but the legend that preceded the couple gave a strange air to the entire area. My legs seemed to turn to water as I scuttled up to the front porch of their house; if the neighbors acted like these two people were the spawn of their nightmares then perhaps doing this project with this particular couple was not the smartest of ideas. Biting upon my lower lip, my face going pale I reached out and knocked upon the door, banging harder then I should have and then jumping away, cowering. The beret fell off my head. I quickly bent over to pick it up and when I came back up the woman stood at the door. I jolted.

She was about my height and just a tad on the plumper side. Her circular face had a warm glow about it and a welcoming glint in her bright green eyes. Her hair was gray; remnants of the dark brown that it once was still remained flecked through the strands, the wisps of curly hair were pulled back neatly into a bun that sat low upon her head. Her skin was a slight peach color, friendly, and her cheeks were tinged with red in good humor, her mouth curled up in a sweet smile. Her glasses were pressed up against her eyes making her look a little like an over-grown dragon fly with her green dress and primly pressed, light blue blouse. The woman blinked a few times at me before she smiled.

"Hello, dear." She said, "Can I help you?"

I was immediately struck by her accent. It was very strange, almost overbearing and making her speech difficult to understand, but it also seemed to draw me in. Her voice was very welcoming and all those thoughts and rumors I had heard seemed to fly from my mind in an instant. I replaced the beret back on my head. "Hello, Ma'am." I straightened up a bit, "My Name is Abigail Atkinson, from the college and…"

Before I could say any more her grin broadened, "Oh-ho!" she said with glee, her hands coming together, "You are the one that called… oh yes, yes…. Come in, dear, come in" she blinked a few times as she stepped aside allowing me entrance into the house, "I've made some cookies for when you arrived. Not many students from the college come for their projects even though I always put my name down on the list." She chuckled at this.

I was not scared any more, I could not be. This woman had to be like the ideal grandmother figure that everyone wished they had. "Well… if no one picks you they are missing out on probably some fantastic cookies." I joked, all the thoughts that have previously occupied my head tried to push themselves back in, tried to put me back on my guard, but that citadel I had made around myself mentally prior to coming hear had all but been destroyed by this little old lady with a heavy German accent.

I stepped inside the house, looking around. It was a fairly cozy place, small and compact. The wallpaper was crème colored splashed with patterns of pink flowery roses and sage green ribbons. The rug was also a deep pinkish color, worn thin in places from years of uses and as I saw this I could do nothing but smile. It just seemed so much like… like a home. The first room I entered was a small ante-room smelling strongly of lilacs. Pictures of all kinds hung on the wall; I took note that most of them were in sepia tones and I was tempted to walk up and look at them, but I thought twice for that might be too intruding this early in the process. A pink lamp with w white lampshade sat on top of a small dark wood table, next to which was a matching dark wood coat rack which all manner of sweaters for her were hung on as well as a black over coat that he must wear, although, by the looks of it, it did not get worn to often save for that occasional special day. "Sie haben ein nettes Haus." I said, hoping she wouldn't take offense to it. Or maybe I had over stepped.

She chuckled, her eyebrows rising as the smile widened again, "Danke." She said before she went on talking in German and there was no way that I was able to follow it. I stared blankly at her, my entire demeanor dropping as my brain tried to catch snippets of what she was saying. Mrs. Muller must have noticed this for she started laughing, taking my arm gently and leading me into the next room which happened to be the kitchen, the lovely smells of fresh baked cookies coming to meet me. "We'll have to work on that German with you, Miss Abigail."

"In my defense, ma'am… I'm only in German 101… I still have lots of time to learn." I smiled in a matter-of-factly manner.

"Is that really?" she said, bustling around the kitchen before she brought the tray of cookies and placed it in the center of the small circular table of a pale maple color, four matching chairs were set around it. The kitchen was equipped with the bare minimum, a small refrigerator and a sink a small toaster sat on the white tile counter top. My head tilted at the lack of dish washer, but whether it be they could not afford one or they just did not feel the need to have one, I was not going to complain or argue with her about it. From where I was standing, the kitchen continued and opened up right into the living room area where there was a shabby off white couch propped up underneath a window draped with lacy curtain. A maroon arm chair was right next to it and a small dark wood and glass coffee table sat in front of the couch. Everything in the room was facing the television, raised atop a small cabinet. The rabbit ears tilted and shifted at a certain angle so that the signal could be received correctly. I smiled; I bet it was still a solely black and white TV set.

"Oh, Miss Abigail." The woman said as she motioned to one of the chairs, "Please… please, dear, sit down." She then went about, bustling here and there about the kitchen as I slid the bag off my shoulder and took my seat at the table. In an instant plates and napkins were set out and a glass of milk was put in front of me. I was stunned, this old woman had gone completely out of her way to do this for me, and I was probably only going to be staying for a few hours. "Mrs. Muller" I said a tad speechless barely managing to get out my next sentence, "you didn't have to do this for me…"

She shook her head with a smile, "It is no problem, dear…. No, not a problem at all." She came over and sat down in the car to the left, folding her hands in her lap very daintily indeed. I did not need another opinion, I liked this woman already. She motioned for me to come closer as she whispered, "I do not do this often… thought it might be nice." She twittered on for a few more moments in her native language which I chuckled at. Mrs. Muller then turned her green eyes back to me, "Well… now that you're here, dear… shall we get started?"

"Oh…. Yeah….." I quickly fumbled for my back pack and brought it up to my lap. Opening it up, I fished around for a few minutes for my notebook and a pencil before placing them on the table. I opened the note book and uncapped the pen, "Alright, Mrs. Muller… you tell me what you seem fit, if you don't want to talk about it, I won't press you for it… and… Mrs. Muller, what ever you say to me, I won't hold anything against you…" I proceed to ask her about her war time experience.