The Case of Emil Diesel

“Wait until we visit Dresden and Berlin. We can decide what to do then.” Back at the hotel, Marie asked to sit by the window. It was a cold day. She sipped her tea while enjoying the warmth of the sun on her back. Her eyes swept the open garden-style dining room. It was hectic. Waiters rushed back and forth, while guests chatted away. She didn’t want to miss them walking in. She was eager to hear the details of their meeting. She spotted them. They weren’t smiling. They were tired from the day’s ordeal. Max plopped into his chair ordering first, a beer for himself and a glass of wine for Sophie. She eased into the chair and kicked off her shoes under the table. The stress had dulled their appetite. Max clued Marie in about the meeting. She agreed to keep the director’s generous gift, the inventory list, to herself. Max was discouraged and depleted, but he wasn’t giving up. This was only the beginning. Deep inside his soul, he wanted to run away and not look back. “Let’s go by your old house to cheer you up,” Marie said. They walked from the hotel to the house, crossing several streets with worn trolley tracks on them. Fifteen minutes later, they stood in front of the four story, imposing brownstone. Three long rectangular windows hung on each floor framed with mahogany. What a shame, Max thought, it was grand, once. Now, it was a well-maintained small office building. Five steps led up to the door. “Let me take a picture,” Sophie said. Max and Marie climbed the steps and sat down on the fourth step. Smiling at the camera, their heads leaned towards each other. They had come home.