Above, Plinky Toepperwein uses a mirror to shoot at a target held in husband Adolph’s hand. Otto M. Jones, Library of Congress
Begin with Chapter One ~ Return to Chapter Forty-One
Hedda Burgemeister, January 1913
Tap, tap, tap.
Hedda forces herself to abandon a most pleasant dream. A dream in which the tap-tap-tapping does not belong. She does not move. Listening.
Not a sound. Why is she now wide awake? She rolls to her other side to attempt to submerge herself back into that dream.
Tap, tap, tap. Again. Perhaps at the glass in the front door?
The room is pitch black. The cuckoo Otto gave her calls out a half-hour, providing no clue as to the actual hour of the night.
Tap, rap, rap. Bolder, more insistent this time.
Terrified, she reaches for her robe and tiptoes toward the front door. She turns back to the kitchen, arming herself with the iron skillet from the cookstove.
Continue reading “An Ostrich-Plumed Hat: Chapter Forty-Two”
