Struck by lightning

It was early morning in Munich. The mist of the night was gone. The sun was rising up above the rooftops to the east. The sky was blue without a cloud in sight. It was going to be another fine day, hopefully without the freak thunderstorm that had hit the city by surprise the day before.

The year was 1973. The date was September 27.

It was Thursday, and inspector Sagnar was on his way to a house in an affluent residential area known for its large houses, well tended gardens, and tree-lined streets.

He drove a red sedan. The small triangular window in his car door was wide open so as to let fresh morning air into the cabin.

He enjoyed the smell of damp earth. It reminded him of home.

A spacious house that would have looked modern in the 1920s appeared on his left hand side.

Sagnar slowed down. He turned into a short driveway next to the house where he parked his car, only inches from the garage in front of him. He got out of his car and headed for the main entrance.

A flat concrete slab served as a lofty roof above the entrance, and there were rose bushes to either side, full of pink flowers.

Heidi, a woman in her early twenties, opened the door. She was wearing her customary grey dress, and her blond hair was tied into a knot at the back of her head. This gave her a prim and proper appearance befitting a maid of a conservative household.

She had expected a man in uniform, but found instead, standing in front of her, a man in his mid thirties, casually dressed in brown slacks and a matching blazer. Had it not been for his badge and identity card, she wouldn't have known for sure that this was the man they had promised to send to investigate the disappearance of her employer.

Sagnar, who was a man of athletic build, clear cut features, and with neatly cut jet-black hair, had dark brown eyes so intense that they made Heidi uneasy. But she let him into the house nevertheless. How could she do otherwise? He was after all the man she had called for.

She escorted Sagnar across the hall and into the living room where she let him look around for clues that might be of interest.

A framed photo on the mantelpiece of a small fireplace caught Sagnar's attention. It depicted a couple in simple wedding attires.

“This is Eva?” he asked, pointing to the bride.
“Yes, it is.”
“Beautiful woman. Let me guess... picture is taken around 1920. He's about thirty and she's in her early twenties.”
“Something like that.”
“Happily married?”
“Very much so. She was an inspiration to him. He loved her dearly.”
“And the feeling was mutual?”
“By all accounts. But I've only known the couple for a little over a year.”

Sagnar turned his attention to Heidi.

“Do you know for sure that she was in the garden when the thunderbolt struck?” Sagnar asked.
“No, but the door to the terrace from the library was unlocked. That's normally only the case when Eva or her husband is out there.”
“And her husband?”
“Well... his funeral was yesterday. That's why we were gathered here. You know, to commemorate him.”

Sagnar was aware of this but felt it opportune to ask anyway.

"And where were you?"
"I was here in the living room, serving coffee to the guests. We were all inside."
"Everyone except Eva."
"We don't know where she was. All we know is that she's gone."
"Can you remember seeing her leaving the room?"
"Yes, but I thought nothing of it at the time. She left us discretely to ourselves as if she would soon return."
"No farewell or anything like that."
"Nothing."

Sagnar turned to a painting of a woman with large blue eyes, a sultry mouth with red lips, and long blond hair. She was draped in a robe that did as much to accentuate her figure as it did to cover her. A golden necklace with a bright red gemstone hung around her neck.

The contrast with the prim maid could hardly be greater.

“This was presumably painted by her husband?”
“That's right.”
“It's a portrait of her, isn't it?”
“Like I said, she was an inspiration to him.”

Sagnar went over to the window overlooking the garden.

"That tree over there. It's still smoldering. From the lightning strike I presume."
"That's right. It was terrifying. I've never experienced anything like it."
"But Eva wasn't there when you went out to look for her, was she?"
"No. It's as if she has vanished into thin air."
"You've looked everywhere?"
"Yes, of course, but there's no trace of her anywhere. It's all very strange."
"Well, let's take a closer look, shall we?"

Heidi showed Sagnar to the door that had been found unlocked the day before. She followed him into the garden.

On approaching the charred tree, Sagnar noticed an extensive Lichtenberg pattern in the grass surrounding the point of impact. It told of a current that had swept the ground.

“This is where the lightning struck,” he explained. “You can see that the strike was particularly forceful because there's a hole blown into the ground. That doesn't normally happen.”

The thunderbolt had blown up mud and petrified it into a shape reminiscent of an orchid. A shaft protruded from it at an angle reflecting the direction of the strike.

“Rather suggestive, don't you think?” Sagnar asked, glancing over at the maid.
“Suggestive of what?” she asked.

Sagnar didn't elaborate, but the blush rushing to Heidi's cheeks told him that she had made the connection.

Scrutinizing the ground further, Sagnar found a charred apple in a rose-bed, a little away from the point of impact. Someone had taken a few bites of it before dropping it to the ground.

Sagnar picked it up. When he broke it open it released a pleasant sweet scent. Inside its burned exterior, it was succulent and fresh. He gave it a taste with the tip of his tongue.

“This here is one delicious apple,” Sagnar declared.

He opened it further to get a better taste of it. Then he proceeded to pick the fresh bits from the burned parts. Bit by bit, he nibbled away what was left of the apple.

Heidi looked at Sagnar with bemusement.

“Aren't you destroying evidence?” she asked.
“Maybe I am, but what's that to you?”
“It could be poisonous...”
“Like Snow White's apple?”
“Yes.”

Sagnar shook his head. “Don't be silly.”

An invigorating tingle spread through his body as he walked around, apple in hand, looking for more clues.

“You know what to do if I fall unconscious, don't you?” he asked.
“No, I don't.”
“Put me in a glass coffins. Then call a prince for resuscitation.”
“That's not funny.”
“Not even a little bit?”

That's when Sagnar spotted the next clue he was looking for. A black feather lay on the ground at some distance from where the lightning had struck.

“This is a feather of a raven if I'm not mistaken.”
“Raven? Do we have Ravens here in Munich?”
“No, we don't. Nor do we have this kind of apples.”

Sagnar tossed what was left of the apple back on the ground.

“Here's a feather for you,” he said, handing it over to the maid.
“No thanks,” she replied.

Sagnar let the feather fall from his hand.

“I'm not sure what to make of this. This isn't a serious investigation, is it?” Heidi asked.
“I've solved the case. There's nothing more for me to do.”
“So, you're going back to the police station?”
“Only to hand in my resignation. But I have one last thing I'd like to look into before I do that. I'd like to see the atelier where Eva's husband worked.”
“And you will leave after that?”
“I will do more than just leave. I'll disappear.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You'll find out soon enough.”

Heidi looked at Sagnar, but found no sign of mockery.

“I don't like the way you talk,” she said. “I'm not sure I want to let you into his atelier.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. I'd hate to use force on you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like I said. I'll be gone tomorrow, and nobody will find me.”
“So?”
“I'll get into that atelier whether you want it or not.”

Sagnar showed no sign of anger or frustration. It was as if he was merely stating a fact, and this had for some reason the effect of calming her down.

“You're not going to hurt me, are you?” she asked rhetorically.
“Not if you do as I say. And why shouldn't you. This is still a murder investigation.”
“That's true. And you've solved it, haven't you?”
“I have.”
“So why look into the atelier?”
“Because I want to know more about Eva.”
“Why's that?”
“Because the more I know about her and her ways, the more chances I have to catch her.”
“She's still around somewhere?”
“Yes, she is.”
"You're sure about that?"
"Absolutely positive."
"Well... that's good news, isn't it?" Heidi asked rhetorically.

Feeling once again secure in Sagnar's company, Heidi directed him to a large shed at the far end of the garden. It didn't look like much from the outside, but it turned out to be well equipped inside. A corner of the shed was furnished with a sofa, some chairs and a table, as well as a large bed. The rest of the atelier was full of canvases, sketchbooks, and paintings in various stages of completion. The artist had been active until recently.

“This is where he spent his days?” Sagnar asked.
“Until a few weeks before his death.”
“Always painting in the same romantic style and with the same motive?”
“Always.”
“Variations on a theme.”
“That's what he was famous for.”

Sagnar admired the various paintings on the walls. Most of them were of the same kind that he had seen inside the house, but some were more suggestive, even borderline erotic.

“He's walking a fine line here at times, don't you think?” Sagnar asked while admiring one of the more daring pieces.
“People pay good money for his work.”
“And it's always his wife being portrayed. A little over the top, don't you think?”
“Obsessive?”
“Exactly.”

Sagnar walked over to one of several bookcases. It was packed with sketchbooks all with green spines.

"So, what's the deal with the green and the blue sketchbooks?" he asked on noticing that the bookcases around him were either full of green books or blue books. No bookcase contained sketchbooks of both colors.
"The blue ones are his private sketches. They are not for public viewing," Heidi explained.
"Is that so?"

Sagnar picked up a green sketchbook and started to leaf through the pages.

"This is good stuff," Sagnar said. "I bet these books could fetch a good price at an auction."
"They give you a feel of how he worked."
"Exactly. Some of these drawings are little masterpieces in their own right."

Sagnar put the sketchbook back where he found it. Then he walked over to a bookcase packed with blue sketchbooks.

“Those are his private sketches,” the maid warned. "They're not for public viewing."
“I know. You already told me so.”

Sagnar pulled out one of the books and opened it, and it contained exactly what he suspected. The sketches were not merely sensual. They were downright erotic. Eva was getting it good and hard. Every page was filled with doodles and images of the most explicit kind, always with Eva at center stage.

“My God. This guy was possessed!”

Sagnar looked over at Heidi who stared back at him, blushing profusely.

“You've seen these sketches, haven't you?” he asked.
“I have.”
“And what do you think?”
“Well... they're...”
“They're hot. That's what they are."

Sagnar smiled. He had all the evidence he needed to conclude his case. Eva wasn't just anybody. She was a goddess, and her late husband had been under her spell for years, bound by some powerful magic.

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