Mike and Kenny felt inadequate when they saw the degrees on Dr. Marian Wiedermann’s office at Trinity Lutheran Church. Frame after frame on the wall showed advanced degrees and academic awards. Dr. Wiedermann left academic life when the seminary she taught at closed, and rather than seek another faculty appointment she decided to go into congregational ministry. Those who knew her described her as one of the kindest people they’ve ever met, but the framed degrees and awards reminded every visitor to her office that she knew a thing or two, too.

Two days before visiting Dr. Wiedermann Kenny and Mike sat at McFly’s Mocha. Mike looked into his coffee and said, “So, we’ve got a clue, but I can’t make any sense of why it’s a word in German.”

“And why a Presbyterian church?” Kenny said. “The people who started my church were Scots. You’d expect to find--I don’t know--a recipe for haggis down there or a kilt fragment, but these people didn’t speak any German.”

Karen, McFly’s owner, came by wiping tables clean. “Hey guys,” she said. “Still chasing ghosts?”

Kenny said, “We’re hot on the trail of something, but I don’t think it’s a ghost. The past here in Thomasville holds a bunch of questions.”

“Well,” Karen replied, “this town has plenty of history and plenty of skeletons.”

“We’re learning that,” Kenny said, “but we’re finding some mysteries, and the dead don’t tell many stories.”

“That’s true,” Karen said, as her eyes glanced toward Mike. “But I find the living more interesting than the dead.”

Karen moved on to tables on the other side on the shop. Kenny leaned across the table and whispered at Mike, “Great job there. You didn’t say a word.”

“What am I going to say to her?”

“I don’t know, maybe ‘You look nice today, Karen.’”

Mike shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know how to do this anymore. I’ve been out of the game too long.”

“Well put yourself back into it,” Kenny said. “She wants to get to know you.”

“I think you’re just living through me. You’ve been married for over ten years. You’re just wishing for a single life you don’t have anymore.”

“Maybe, but I care about my friend. You deserve a little joy.”

“Well, thanks. What would give me joy is if we could figure out why someone wrote in German on the cellar wall of a Presbyterian church.”

“Maybe one of the pastors then was a scholar and knew German for academic work.”

“You know who we could ask?”

“Who?”

“Think about it,” Mike said. “Where’s the one place in town you can get sausage and sauerkraut?”

“What, the Lutheran church?”

“They’re the keeper of German culture around here.”

“Dr. Wiedermann thinks we’re dorks, though.”

Mike said, “That’s because you wore lederhosen to their Oktoberfest party.”

“My kids wanted me to wear them. I still had them from the semester I spent in Germany.”

“Well, you looked like a dork.”

“I cut a handsome figure in them. Every lady’s eye was on me.”

“And they were thinking, ‘Who is that loser, and why does his poor wife stay with him?’”

“You think Dr. Wiedermann would meet with us?”

“Give her a call. The worst she could do is say ‘No.’”

Two days later Mike and Kenny were looking up at the degrees on the wall in Dr. Marion Wiedermann’s office at Trinity Lutheran Church. Mike started the conversation, “Dr. Wiedermann, as I explained on the phone, we were digging into the town past and we thought maybe you could help us understand something.”

“Please, guys,” Marion said, “Call me Marian. We’re all colleagues and friends here.”

“Ok, Marion,” Kenny said. “Mike here is interested in the story of the Thomasville Monster. Have you ever heard it?”

“I’m not sure I have,” she said. “Fill me in.”

Mike said, “Back about 100 years ago there were reports of an apparition in the sky, sort of a big amorphous blob. The whole town was in fear. There’s always been some rumor of a treasure to go with it. I found some old journals from a pastor at my church who said something was hidden at Kenny’s church, but it was at the old church building.”

“The town museum?” Marian asked.

“I’ve always thought this was just a town legend,” Kenny said, “Every place has its own ghost stories, but I decided to go along for the ride with Mike here. We went looking at the old church. We found an old cellar that was empty, but written on the cellar wall was hoffnung.”

Marian said, “That’s German. It means--I think--the belief that something will happen.”

Kenny added, “Yeah, basically hope.”

Mike said, “So we’re trying to figure out why someone would have written in German on the wall of a hidden cellar. You all are the center of German culture around here. We thought you might be able to help us here.”

Marian said, “Well, the monster story is new to me, but I have a guess what this may be about. I’ve heard hints of a story. We have someone here who is the one I go to for history. She’s 102, lives in a nursing home, but her mind is as sharp as it ever was. She’s who I would ask. Guys, maybe I should warn you, though.”

“What’s that?” Kenny asked.

“You may be digging up something this town would rather keep hidden.”