Code 61 - Donald Harstad [93]
“Second reason I came, Carl.”
He and I secured two chairs within easy striking distance of the cookies, and started what I assumed would be a fairly bland, time-killing conversation. It did start that way, and I found myself telling him how impressed I was with the Mansion.
As it turned out, he'd helped restore it years ago, and his late uncle had been caretaker for the last members of the original family who had lived there.
“When did they move out?” Bland. Just curious.
“In the late ffities.”
“What did the original owner do, do you know?”
“He was into grain shipping, and mining, and lumber,” he said. “They were into just about anything in this area that could make 'em rich.”
“Worked,” I said.
“Indeed it did,” said Knockle.
“You know, I always wondered why they put it there in the first place.”
Knockle settled in, and I began to suspect I'd bitten off more than I'd intended. “The original owner, a man named Givens, wanted privacy. That old German Kommune had drilled way down, and got a well going before they went belly up. So he had a well ready made. It was close to the mine he owned, just south of there. That silica outfit.”
I nodded. “Didn't they use that to cast fine gears or something?” “For fine glass, originally,” he said. “Sand's got the consistency of grainy flour, produced a fine glass.”
“Ah.”
“The gear casting came later. Fine grain again, didn't have to machine them much after they were cast.”
“Oh.”
“Old man Givens was really a penny-pincher in some ways, though. Used to visit that mine every day, to check things. Then right across to the old steamboat dock, where they loaded his grain. That ain't there no more, 'course. Took that out about 1930. Mine's closed, went out back in the late sixties.”
“Yeah.”
He kept on. It was my fault. I knew Old Knockle talked a lot.
“Old man Givens got so tired of making that trip down to the valley and then over to the river, he had 'em put in some sort of cable car when they was ffxin' up the railroad about 1890 or so. So he could just go straight on down. His wife used to use it, too, to go to Chicago. For culture. Yep, the train stopped right there, if the flag at the stop was up. Had their very own car on the siding. Named the stop Givens' Switch, just for them. Really rich.” He chuckled. “Called the cable car Givens' Railroad, up here in Freiberg.”
That got my attention. I leaned well forward. “What happened to the cable car?”
“I don't truly know,” he said. “I seem to remember hearin' that they'd replaced it with something, but if I ever heard what, I forgot it by now. There's nothin' there now, I can tell you that. We were all over that hillside yesterday.” He smiled, and got up to get another cookie. “Don't get yourself all excited, Carl. Want another cookie?”
“Sure.” While he got them, I was thinking that, while the cable car might not be there, there surely had to have been a path down the bluff at that point. Had to be. Maybe trees had grown over it, but leveled ground could enable a faster passage….
He sat back down and handed me my cookie. “You know, did you see those big bolts in the wall, upstairs on the second floor?”
“What? Uh, no, no I didn't.”
“You know,” he said, “that big old house was built in two parts. Halves. The north side was built first. They added a matching south side some ten years after the north side was ffnished. Secured the two halves together with big railroad shafts and bolts. Just like the courthouse in Maitland.”
I'd seen the bolts in the courthouse. “Oh, yeah, the big bolts.”
“The ones in the house are covered by big lizards.” He thought a second. “No, dragons.”
“Gargoyles?”
“Yeah. That's it.”
Now he had me going. “How did you know they were bolts, then? Was that common?”
“Coulda been, but I seen some of the blueprints for the house, at the historical society.”
“Oh.” Blueprints. “Here in Freiberg?”
“Oh, no, nope. Not here. Over in Lake