Read Online An Image of Death by Libby Fischer Hellmann - Free Book Online Page A

could know.”
    I didn’t answer.
    “Ellie, why do I get the feeling you don’t believe me?”
    “It’s not that.”
    The hollow patch at the base of his neck throbbed. “Then what is it?”
    I rubbed my temples. It was clear David wanted the letter to be from his uncle so much, he was trying to persuade me into agreeing. I couldn’t blame him. Still. “I…I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it’s not what you think.”
    He was silent. Then his mouth tightened. “Typical.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Any time something comes up in my life, especially when it concerns my family, you’re always quick to dismiss it or disparage it or tell me it’s not what I think.”
    Where was this coming from? “I—I didn’t—”
    “You couch it in these ‘oh, I don’t want you to be disappointed’ terms, but the truth is, Ellie, I wonder if you want me to find out anything about my family. Like with the Iversons. I think you’re afraid you’ll lose something if I strike out on my own.”
    I struggled to hold on to my temper. “I’ll lose something? Like what?”
    “Control, maybe? The upper hand? I don’t know. I’m not a shrink. But I do know it’s always about you.”
    I blinked. I do have issues of control. Money, airplanes, shoplifting—it’s an ongoing struggle. But I wasn’t convinced that was the case now. David was upset—that much was clear. But had I done something to provoke him, or was I just the nearest target? I chose my words carefully. “David, there were good reasons to be cautious about pursuing your family connections in the past.”
    He shot me a dubious look.
    “I didn’t want you in the middle of my problems. They turned out to be dangerous, if you recall.”
    “That was then.”
    “Yes, but it was a letter from a stranger that triggered the chain of events then, too.”
    He didn’t answer.
    “Look. I know how important this is to you. I’ll help in any way I can. And…it wasn’t all bad. Back then.” I reached for his hand. “If I’d never gotten that letter,” I said softly, “you and I would never have met.…”
    He sank back in his chair, his anger dissipating like the tail end of a storm. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…I’m so keyed up.”
    I squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. And you’re right about one thing. Whoever sent the letter knows something about the village. And the Gottliebs.”
    It wasn’t a smile, but the lines on his forehead smoothed out. “The problem is we—I—don’t have much time. There was that phrase about being at a juncture that required him to write.”
    “You think whoever wrote the letter is ill?”
    “Don’t you?”
    I opened the menu, a sheet of parchment inside a faux leather binder. “I don’t know.” I scanned the stiff, mottled paper. “But tell me, why is Mrs. Freidrich so eager to help you?”
    “Her cousin was my mother’s best friend when they were children. I think she feels some…some responsibility.”
    “She’s not Jewish.”
    “No. And she claims she didn’t know anything about the Holocaust until years afterward.”
    “Oh, sure.”
    David shrugged. “She says there were no textbooks in German schools for years after the war. And no one ever talked about it, either—it was as if someone took a scalpel and surgically excised the Hitler era from German history.”
    “What did she think happened to the Jews? They all packed up and went on vacation?”
    “Ellie.” He scowled at me. “She was only a child.”
    “She had parents.”
    “They weren’t party members. They owned a grocery store.”
    “You’re telling me they didn’t know what was happening?”
    “She says the only thing her mother ever said—and this was years later—was that Germany got what they deserved.”
    “Why?”
    He paused. “Because, she said, they raised a hand against God’s chosen people.”
    I didn’t have a comeback.
    “Mrs. Freidrich said they were even talking about renovating the synagogue a few