"The Baron and His Castle"

His turreted castle loomed over the city from its perch on the crest of North Hill, the highest point in a five-county area. This flamboyant textile baron had had it built as a tribute to his success in the 1920s heyday of luxury silk cloth. After doing a heady business deal in Germany, he had a notion one rainy afternoon to trudge up the zigzag path leading to the famed Hohenzollern Castle. He had vaguely heard about it while consummating a deal with a leading fashion house, and he wanted to know if it was worth a look. His guide said something under his breath in German.

Nonetheless, neck arched, the baron had his look and was so impressed by the massive grandeur of it that he thought he saw a noble pile piercing the clouds on almost every distant hill from there to Lake Constance. His castle—which took all of five years to build, sandstone slab by meticulously chipped slab—was familiarly known in town as Sam Farber's Folly.

What did he care? He had started out with a little three-vat die shop in a garage down by the river and got flooded out and fined for dumping, which poisoned the carp; and he vowed he'd never stain his hands again. A partnership, a crucial loan to bid on a foreclosed mill, economies (his shops were "scab heaven") and he was shortly on his way up. The jobbers that he'd once had to haggle with over piecework were crowding his outer office.

Besides, dying rather quickly became a small part of his total business. He'd branched out into woven fabric and installed Jacquard looms, and his biggest moneymaker became fine silk brocade. Buyers reported that their moneyed trade simply loved the novel designs and, even more, the feel of it: it was great against a woman's skin.

As he prospered, the baron had crowed, Why not put a castle on a hill built for myself? Not fully three years after its much-heralded completion, the castle/mansion was thought to have been suddenly abandoned when the baron overextended himself. Galloping inflation in Germany resulted in the cancellation of his big contracts there, and his own bulging inventory helped to grease the price slide that did him in. His loans were called; and the biggest of his mills, counterpart of famed Henry Doherty's, closed about the time that he disappeared.

The banks immediately had their lawyers assess the value of his assets so they could slap a lien on whatever they could lay hands on and much else that they couldn't (anything to get themselves first in line among creditors—forefeet in the trough). When the baron failed to show up in court, the lawyers got a warrant to snoop around in the mansion itself and found him half-sitting and slumped against the wall of an upstairs bedroom with a bullet in his head. His wife lay face down on the bathroom floor, half-naked, with the hair on the back of her head soaked in blood.

"The Baron and His Italian Wife"

As reported by his former aide, Domo, the Terrible Turk, when things were going well, the couple neatly complemented one another. His favorite sport was making money; hers, spending it. They'd been known to have arguments when business turned south, but as was known so far, there was nothing that might induce violence—though money would become a sore spot. Known for his silence, Domo was in on most personal matters and, to all intents and purposes, out as well; he knew when to get lost, and in the heat of one of their arguments, that's what he did. Detectives who finally got the chance to question him drew a blank.

Some rookie cop, who was not the sharpest pencil in the box, said that Domo had always wanted to hook up with the Dillinger gang. Actually, it turned out that Domo's son was the one who had the gangster fantasies: As a kid, he ran around the house yelling "Bang, bang, Bank. Gotsha!" Using graduation money, he bought a genuine Buster Brown belt with horsehair inlay. It got him into some fights, winning more than he lost. A replica of the old man, he sported a brush cut and a stubble beard. He told people that the baron should have gone after the banks instead of letting them come after him, which netted him a laugh.

Young Domo followed Dillinger's antics in the newspaper, got himself a fat 45 pistol, and decided to have a try. He scared the teller and walking out with his pockets stuffed, he bumped into a cop, was jailed, and, like his hero, escaped. Gone and nowhere to be found. But he briefly showed for the double funeral as he'd had a crush on the baron's wife, one of a number he was sweet on.

Gina, the quick-witted wife, said her husband could have used the kid. Until the baron's abrupt skid, regarding business, she didn't ask and he didn't tell. But once she did start asking, she asked a lot. What made him think he could trust the Germans when he couldn't even speak their language? And what stupidity was it for him, a business genius, to sink good money into this gothic monstrosity?

"Pure ego," he admitted—which, from her (palm to forehead) evoked an "Oy vey!" And now he wants into her trust!

"Okay already," she ranted, arms akimbo and eyebrows arched, "but now we're talkin' cash, are we? Mine included?" When upset, she'd imitate a Jewish intonation. He'd joke that she was his "Italianische Yenta." She liked the fact that he was lavishly generous with her and made nothing of it. Despite which, she nagged enough about his spending on other stuff that one day he was willing to grant that things were getting ... "well, a bit troublesome."

Just like the activist that he was, after their disagreement, he was on the phone all day; and the following morning, he snatched up the financial page of the paper and tore it to shreds. His wife was even more taken aback when he swung himself into a brisk-legged dance only he could call a buck and wing—which, with spread arms, he ended with a lurch and a "Huzzah!" She met his pursed lips but wanted to know what the ruptured tap was all about. He was celebrating going broke?

"Not to worry, honey. I've been in touch with the Big Boys. They did some financial maneuvers that would protect profits. In fact, they were shorting the market and making big bucks. Meanwhile, with the rest of their holdings in Treasuries and Munis, they were gonna be able to ride this thing out. We did the same."

"Yeah, but they don't tell you how much they'd lost already."

She wanted to know how much he had lost. After all, there was the matter of her trust. Well, like he'd told her before, it takes money to make money (just ask that young Domo), and just like the sweetheart that she was, she wouldn't charge like a bank.

"You mean?"

"She Kept Her Family Out"

What family friction there was, was between Gina and her family—particularly involving her brothers, who thought she had...