The Romanov Ransom

59

Sam took a quick glance around the room, noticing two other wildlife paintings, neither of which featured a wolf. He dug the key from his pocket.

Will took it, then sat at his desk, holding it beneath the lamp, examining both sides. “Very nice. It does indeed appear to be similar to the key from another desk that I had the pleasure of restoring…” He swiveled his chair around, searching the titles on a bookshelf behind him, then pulled out a volume, Early 19th Century Furniture, turning through the pages until he came to a section filled with photos of old keys.

“I believe,” he said, running his finger down the photos, “we’re looking for Lieschblume’s work. He specialized in locks for the various furniture makers of the time.” He turned the page, scanned it, then turned another, pointing to a photo of a key in the lower right corner of the page. “Here it is. See the very distinct fleur-de-lis pattern stamped on the shaft? That was the trademark of the Lieschblume Locksmith Company at the turn of the early nineteenth century. They supplied locks and keys for high-end furniture. Your particular key,” he said, setting it on the page next to the photo, “appears to be of the same make. What makes your key special, though, are the extra teeth on the bit.” He picked up the key and pointed to the end of it. “More teeth means the lock was slightly more secure than the one your antique dealer showed you from his desk.”

“What do you think it’s from?”

“Hard to say. A desk, a trunk, or maybe a wardrobe. The more decorative Lieschblume keys, such as the one you have, were used almost exclusively for furniture. Very fine furniture, I might add. Not for the commoner, which makes your quest a bit easier.”

“Every little bit helps,” Sam said, glancing over at Remi, who was standing behind Will’s chair, her gaze on his paintings.

“The intricate detailing of the scrollwork on the grip usually had a matching ornamental plate around the keyhole on the furniture piece. They were custom made to the specifications of their clients.” He set aside the key and started turning pages in the book until he reached one filled with writing desks, some with a writing surface that could be closed and locked. He pointed to the decorative plate around the keyhole. “For instance, if we had the key to this desk in hand, we’d see that the design on the bow or grip of the key would match the design on the plate.”

Sam took another look at the key. The scrolling of the grip, in comparison to the one in the book, seemed far simpler. “You’re saying that we could match the pattern in the bow to the decorative plate covering the keyhole? And we might be able to identify the key that way?”

“Exactly. In some cases, they were family crests. In others, simply a commissioned design.”

“Which does us little good unless we know who commissioned it.”

“I can’t be positive, but it reminds me of the crest from the principality of Salm-Salm. Two fish, back-to-back.”

Now that he pointed it out, Sam and Remi could see how the design might be two fishes. “Where would this be?”

“Anholt castle in Isselburg. A little over an hour’s drive from here. If you like, I can call the solicitor on retainer for the Salm-Salm family and explain what it is you’re looking for. We went to law school together. If anyone can get you an audience with the prince, or someone from his house who knows anything about this, he can.”

“We’d appreciate it,” Sam said, picking up the key and placing it in his pocket.

“Thank you for your help,” Remi added. “I think we can find our way out to the square.” She made a beeline to the door.

Sam followed quickly behind his wife. At the end of the alley, Remi turned left. “The square’s the other way,” he said.

“Just want to see something…” She stopped in front of a door, reading the placard next to it.

“Entrance to law offices?”

“Interesting… Bachman, Dreschler and Dreschler. His name’s not even on here.”

“Junior partner?”

“Or the Guard? You did notice that wolf painting, right?”

Sam was already heading back down the alley, looking through the basement window to see what Will was doing. But there he was, whistling away as he hand-sanded the side of the armoire.

Sam parked in a gravel lot, and the two walked toward the park-like grounds, catching sight of the castle through the trees. The still moat reflected not only the red-bricked castle, and the Baroque gardens to the left of it, but also the dark, threatening clouds above — until the breeze rippled across the water, blurring everything on its surface.

“It’s beautiful,” Remi said.

A light sprinkle started to fall, and Sam looked up at the sky, quickening their pace. “Hope we can find what we need and get out of here before the weather turns.”

They crossed the footbridge, then passed through an arched entry into a courtyard, their footsteps echoing as they walked in. To their right was the wing of the castle that had been turned into a hotel. Directly in front, mounted high on the courtyard wall, was a simplified wrought iron version of the Salm-Salm family crest of two fish, back-to-back. “Just like the key,” Remi said.

Sam looked around and found the tour office to their left. Wilhelm had made arrangements for them to meet up with Laurenz Hippler, who worked on-site and managed the castle grounds for the family. Inside, a middle-aged woman, wearing a white blouse and black slacks, sat behind a glass window, attending a cash register. “Sam and Remi Fargo,” he said. “Mr. Hippler, please. He’s expecting us.”

“One moment,” she replied, picking up the phone and punching the extension. “Herr und Frau Fargo sind hier… Danke.” She hung up the phone. “He will be right down.”

“Thank you.”

About one minute later, a gray-haired man, wearing a dark blue suit and tie, came down the stairs from the end of the hall. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo. A pleasure to meet you,” he said, shaking their hands. “I understand you’re trying to match a key to a piece of furniture? A bit of a mystery, of a sort?”

“We are,” Sam said.

“I spoke with the family and they’ve agreed to let you look. As long as you understand that nothing can be removed from the premises. At least not without their permission.”

“If we find what we’re looking for,” Sam said, “I think a few photos will do.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. So where is this key?”

Sam took it from his pocket, holding it out to him. “Any ideas what it might belong to?”

The man’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at the key. He looked at Sam, almost in disbelief. “I know exactly what it belongs to.”