Day 3 - 1941- Germany/ Richard’s house...

I was standing in the dining room, dusting Richards’s photographs when it happened. He walked through the door, and when I turned around he had his Lugar pressed against my stomach. I was shocked... surprised.
“I’m sorry.” He blankly said.
“I... I knew it.” I pressed my lips together tightly.


Day 1 -
My suitcase kept hitting my thigh as I walked up the sidewalk. I was very short for my age. It was just getting dark and the only lights where coming from the house up ahead. Mr. Richards house.
I walked up to the porch and softly knocked on the fancy door. Next to the porch light was a small swastika banner, and the metal door knock was an eagle holding the swastika. It glared down at me.
The door opened, showing a fit, tall, handsome man.
Mr. Richards.
“Oh! Hello, you must be Ms. Helen.” He gestured warmly for me to go inside.

I nodded. “Hello Mr. Richards. I assume I start tonight by making dinner?”
He chuckled. “Oh, goodness! You already want to work. That won’t be necessary tonight. Dinner has already been made, so you can eat if you like or I can show you your room.” He shut the door quietly and faced me.
He was wearing an SS officer uniform... complete with a Lugar at his side.

“Um... If there is nothing for me to do then I’ll be going to bed.” I held my suitcase under my arm now.
“That’s fine. This way Ms. Helen.” He led me past the kitchen, into the dining room, and up a flight of spiraling stairs. “So... what kind of accent is that? I know I’ve heard it before.” He asked, not looking back.
My eyes flinched. “Um... I was raised...”
“In Britain?” He stopped at a door now, and faced me with a smirk.
“Yes...”
His smile fell. “Are you ok? I think you need to eat.”
“What?” I looked down. My hands where shaking.

The Kitchen-

We sat at a homey round table and ate some type of soup. I wasn’t really paying attention to the food. He had a wood stove in a corner, a sink in the other, some cabinets, and in a skinny closet... probably cleaning supplies. He saw me looking.
“Yes... that’s the supply closet. Anything you’ll need is in there.” He smiled and sipped his wine.
“Oh...” Is all I could say.
“So, do you like music?”
“Um... yes.”
“Good, there is a radio in your room. And you can even turn it all the way up! I’m partly deaf. I can thank the war for that.” He chuckled again and finished up his soup.
I cleared my throat. “Where you cooking before I came?”
He stood up and started to clean his bowl in the sink.
“No... I was making your bed actually. The soup was already done. Kind of funny that you would show up tonight, I thought you wouldn’t be here for days.” He smiled.
And yet he heard me knocking?
“Well, I’ll be leaving tomorrow for a... um... a meeting. So rest up, you’ll have a whole house to clean.” He took my bowl.
“Yes... Goodnight.” I stood up and started to my room.
“Oh! Ms. Helen... tell me if you need anything.” I could feel him smiling.

My Room-

I sat up in the bed.
The clock read five fifteen. The small window had been cracked open and a white feather lay on the floor. My eyes darted from wall to wall. I couldn’t go back to sleep. Not now.
I got out of the bed and left the room. I passed by the dining room and went into the kitchen to brew some coffee. Just as I opened a cabinet, I heard a click behind me... a joint popping.
I turned quickly, as if alarmed. Richards was in his robe, starring at me.
“You are in your maid dress. And... It’s five in the morning.”
I nodded. “Yes, I like to start early, if that is okay with you.”
“Oh... that’s fine. You won’t bother me.”
I spotted some dirt on the floor, so I went to the closet and grabbed a hand broom and a dustpan.
“Mr. Richards?”
“Yes?”
“If you don’t mind me asking, where is your wife?” I bent over to scoop up the dirt.
He paused. “Um... She... I don’t have one.” He stared at me as I rose and dumped the pan.
He suddenly moved closer to me... cornering me to the counter.
“What about you?”

Day 2- Afternoon

I shut the door just as Richards left the house. He had been complaining about white feathers in his yard and bird droppings on his car, all day.
“I have to go to the department in this?!” He complained.
I had offered to clean it, but he was “already late”, he said. Although I was quick to pick up the feathers.
Most of the day I dusted, swept, and moped. The kitchen wasn’t near as dirty as Mr. Richards’ office. Papers stacked here and there, folders spiraled on desks, pipes on books and tobacco sprinkled sloppily. I began stacking things... until...

The Nazi soldiers where spread all over the yard with their guns resting. Some where in the house investigating while some where driving all over town looking for the thief.
“Are you okay?” One asked me.
“Yes... just a little shook up.” He embraced me carefully.
In the distance I could see Mr. Richards driving up.
He quickly parked, got out, and ran over to me.
"Helen! Are you okay?! What happened?!” He was wide eyed.
“Someone broke in the house while she was still in it.” The soldier said.
“What?! Did he-“
“No, I’m fine... it’s okay.” I gave him a reassuring smile.
He placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Thank God. Where were you? Where did he come in?”
“He came through the back door... it was locked, so he busted the bolt. I was up in my room.”
“How long was he in? Did he steal anything?” He looked worried.
“I’m not sure. I’ve only been here one day, so I couldn’t tell you if anything was missing.”
He nodded. “Well, I’ll be back.” He walked back up to the house.


I stood next to him in his office. He was sorting through his files carefully.
“You cleaned my office?” He was glued to the pages, face blank.
“Yes sir... I’m sorry if-" He held up his hand.
“That’s fine... I should have told you. It’s my fault. You where just doing you-“
He paused. His face alarmed.
“What is it? Mr. Richards?”
“He stole some of my military medals... but that’s not what he was after. He stole a very important file... a file that not any thief would steal.” He looked up at me.
“What was it?” I stared back at him.
“It was a confidential message from Himmler himself.”


Day 3 - 1941- Germany/ Richard’s house...

I was standing in the dining room, dusting Richards’s photographs when it happened. He walked through the door, and when I turned around he had his Lugar on my stomach. I was shocked... surprised.
“I’m sorry.” He blankly said.
“I... I knew it.” I pressed my lips together tightly.
“Knew what?” His eyes narrowed.
“That I would eventually have to kill you.”
He almost smiled. “I found the stolen medals and the document in your suitcase Ms. Helen.”
I was frozen.
“And the feathers... It is a messenger pigeon isn’t it? You are obviously-"

Richards didn’t have a chance to finish. In one swift movement, I had twisted his Lugar upwards, and pulled the trigger. It blew blood on the ceiling, and as he fell, the red syrup dripped on his fancy uniform.
My hands shook violently. So violent that I could barely hold the Lugar to my leg and pull the trigger. When the police came to the house I simply told them he had ordered me to undress, and when I had said no he had shot me... and when the chance came... I killed him.
They bought it.