Chapter 2: Smell the Coffee

Disclaimer: Written in 2001, this story was inspired by characters and situations created by a certain author who discourages fan fiction.

Writer Contacts: To contact Wiebke (and especially if you would like to link to this site or any of the stories), email wiebke@juno.com.

His foray into the music store had brought about a peculiar sensation in Louis. It was a feeling that he had stepped back in time, if only for a moment. While New Orleans was, he knew, still quite an old-fashioned city, these days it was so far removed from the city he had known in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, he found himself surprised that such an outpost was in operation.

The more he thought about it, the more Louis wondered about the store and its owner, this W. von Stroheim. It was his store and his collection. What sort of man would operate such a store, stocking it according to his own tastes and deliberately making due without the simplest of modern retail tools, namely the cash register and the credit card?

Perhaps Mr. von Stroheim was new to the city and had moved in from a small town. Louis considered the surname and, rather belatedly, realized that the man was no doubt of German descent. German or Austrian. Perhaps Swiss. Interesting. He tried to recall if he had detected an accent. He replayed the conversation in his mind. Yes, there was a slight accent. It was no more than Louis' own accent, worn down over the years, but it was there nonetheless.

So, Louis concluded, the storekeeper was probably an immigrant, perhaps from some sleepy town in Austria. That, coupled with a streak of eccentricity, might explain some of the peculiarities, Louis thought. His manner of dress. The fine blue ink handwriting. The antique book in Fraktur print. Louis remembered reading books in that type of print a century ago, when he had studied German philosophy.

Louis headed back to the flat he shared with Lestat. Aside from enjoying a couple of new albums he had purchased, he gave the matter little further thought. However, the next evening, once he had completed the ritual which continued his existence, his mind returned to the small shop and its owner. Perhaps if he paid a visit at an earlier hour he would have more time to satisfy his curiosity.

When Louis arrived, it was half past ten. Once again, Louis noted the "OPEN" sign and the light within. Peering in the door, Louis saw the storekeeper at his desk, again with a book. This time, there was also a very large, almost bowl-sized, coffee mug. As soon as Louis stepped inside, he smelled the coffee, rich and sweet, probably mixed with chocolate. The top of the mug was buried in thick whipped cream sprinkled with cocoa.

Mr. von Stroheim looked up from his book. "You're back," he said, smiling.

"Yes, I thought I would come a bit earlier tonight and give myself some more time," Louis replied. Glancing behind the desk to the back table, Louis noticed two more of the enormous mugs, apparently already consumed. Perhaps this is what allowed the proprietor to keep such late hours.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Louis said, stepping forward and offering his hand. "I'm Louis de Valmont. Just thought we should be introduced, Mr. von Stroheim."

"Pleased to meet you," the coffeelover replied, returning the handshake with a hand that seemedly unusually hot.

Louis turned and headed to a rack in a section had not examined the night before. This night, instead of Mozart, the store stereo was playing a Strauss waltz, light and sparkling.

Louis had been searching through the cases for several minutes when he found himself recollecting an old memory: He and Armand in Vienna. It must have been over a century ago. The city had been grand and beautiful and full of music and coffee lovers. He and Armand would sit in the dark coffeehouses and watch people with their newspapers and pipes and sinful chocolate cake. He had not thought about the city in a long time but it seemed obvious what had reminded him -- von Stroheim's coffee!

Louis glanced over to the storekepper, who was sipping from his mug. "Excuse me," Louis began, "but I was wondering, sir, are you--"

Von Stroheim had left his chair as soon as he'd heard "excuse me" and was now standing before Louis expectantly. "Yes, Mr. Valmont, do you need help with anything here?"

Louis laughed, slightly embarrassed by the fuss. "Actually I'm fine, but I was just wondering something and I wanted to ask you a question."

"Yes?" von Stroheim prompted.

"Have you ever been to Vienna?"

Von Stroheim's reaction was not what Louis would have predicted. Instead of an easy yes or no, he hesitated for moment as if considering the implications of his reply. After a moment, he came out with it: "Yes, I have. I was born there and lived there for many years."

"I remember all those coffee shops," Louis said wistfully. "I wonder if they still have so many. Tell me, has Vienna changed much since the war?"

Once again, von Stroheim's reaction did not match Louis' expectations. "The war?" he asked, his expression blank.

"Yes, the war! World War Two...?" Louis found it odd that anyone would not know was meant by "the war." Even he understood the reference.

"Oh, yes, that one," von Stroheim murmurred. "I suppose it's changed... although I haven't been there since before 'the war' you know and--"

Suddenly von Stroheim had all Louis' attention and moreover, had frozen in mid-sentence.

Like a tree struck by lighting, Louis felt his mind split open and burning at the phrase he had just heard "I haven't been there since 'the war.'" Simple enough on face of it but there was something utterly wrong with it. The war ended fifty years ago and von Stroheim was clearly under forty and so if he had been born in Vienna, he must have been there since, lived many years there even, unless he... Louis' mind locked up at the possibilities.

Meanwhile von Stroheim suddenly jerked back to life. "I mean -- I meant that I -- don't know how much it's changed." His voice sounded extremely uncertain to Louis. "My English sometimes is not what I wish it would be."

"Your accent is not very strong," Louis told him, still baffled over the the lapse.

"I lost it a long ago actually," he replied.

Louis found himself asking just how long ago. In fact, he found himself beset by such a strong suspicion that all at once, he decided to throw caution to the wind.

"Well, even if you did mean what you said, I wouldn't be shocked," Louis began. "In all honesty, I haven't visited the city myself since the 1880s."

The statement had been a test. Very likely von Stroheim would take it as a gest -- Louis poking fun at his slip of the tongue. And then there was the miniscule chance that he would actually take Louis seriously.

Chance won out. To Louis' shock, the storekeeper was backing away, giving Louis a peculiar stare, up and down, as if prior to that moment he had never seen him. Then, in a quick instant, he turned on his heels and quickly headed to the desk, gathering up his coffee mugs onto a tray in a nervous fury and picking up the cash box.

"Oh, well, I really must be closing shop. It's late and I need to--"

"Stop it," Louis said softly. By now he was standing in front of the desk. "Tell me. Why does my remark cause you so much distress?"

Von Stroheim's entire body seemed gripped with terror as, after a long moment, he replied, "Because it makes me think you're not human."