Before London or Emil could explain to the group where they were,a cheerful voice called out.
“Willkommen im Historische Wurstkutchl!”
A stout, smiling woman wearing a black dress, a whiteold-fashioned apron, and a white fluffy hat came toward them.
“You are the Americans, ja?” she said. “From the boat thatarrived just this morning?”
Members of the group said yes.
The woman continued in English, “Excellent! I am Hilda, yourhostess, and I am here to welcome you to the Historic Sausage Kitchen ofRegensburg. We have been continuously open for longer than any other restaurantin the world, maybe. We opened almost nine hundred years ago, in the year 1146,soon after the old Stone Bridge was finished. As you can imagine, theconstruction workers had worked up quite an appetite by then. We have beendoing a thriving business ever since.”
With an impish chuckle, she added, “Or so I have been told. I havenot been working here quite that whole time. I do not want you to think I am thatold!”
The tourists were amused, and many of them laughed aloud.
Hilda continued, “And we use the same mustard recipe created byFrau Elsa Schricker when she owned the place in the eighteenth century. Westill make our sausages from pure pork ham, and we cook them the same way we’vedone for two hundred years, over an open grill. And we serve them over a bed ofsauerkraut fermented in our own cellar. Come, let us make you feel at home.”
Hilda led them onto the patio, where a group of similarly apronedwomen bustled around among the tables helping the tourists find places to sit.Not surprisingly, many of them chose the picnic tables with the best view ofthe Danube.
Before London could decide where to sit herself, she noticed thetall, gangly Audrey Bolton standing alone, staring out at the water.
She didn’t look happy—but then, that was nothing new.
Judging from their unpleasant encounter yesterday, London knewthat it might be impossible to cheer up this prickly woman.
I’ve got to give it a try, she thought.
CHAPTER SEVEN
London saw that Audrey Bolton even had a disapproving expressionon her face as she gazed out over the beautiful blue Danube.
I wonder if she’s going to complain about the color,London thought. Or the rate of flow, or …
She brushed aside her own thoughts and smiled her bestprofessional smile.
“Are you enjoying Regensburg, Ms. Bolton?” London asked.
The tall woman’s curly hair bounced as she wheeled around toreply.
“As well as our brief stop here will allow,” she said in ahaughty tone. “But I understand that we will be leaving quite soon for our nextstop.”
“That’s true,” London replied. “But we have plenty of time for anice lunch here by the river.”
Audrey glanced around at the other passengers seated at thetables. Then she glared back at London. “I’ve been informed that our itineraryhasn’t changed.”
Uh-oh, London realized. Here it comes.
“That’s true,” London replied again, realizing she was beingrepetitious.
“I assume you told the captain we must skip our visit to Bamberg.”
“I did,” London said.
“And what did he say?”
London swallowed hard.
Just be truthful, she told herself.
“He said you should talk to him about it,” London said.
Audrey let out a grunt of dissatisfaction. This clearly wasn’tthe answer this woman wanted to hear.
“Wouldn’t you like to sit down?” London suggested.
Audrey crossed her arms and frowned.
“Yes, I would like too. But all the seats with a view ofthe river have been snatched up. I’m afraid you’ve bungled things again. Ifonly you’d let the group know in advance we’d be eating here today, I couldhave called ahead and reserved a table for myself.”
London felt stumped, much as she had yesterday. How could shehave anticipated this problem? She herself hadn’t known for absolute certainwhere the group would be having lunch today, or how many people there would be.And she was pretty sure the peasant-style restaurant with its outdoor grill wastoo informal to take reservations.
But before London could think of what to say or do, she heard afriendly woman’s voice nearby.
“Why, there’s plenty of room out our table.”
London turned and saw a pair of familiar faces—Walter and AgnesShick, the kindly elderly couple. They were the only people sitting at thisparticular table with a view of the river. They both scooted over on theirbenches to leave plenty of room.
Walter smiled and patted the bench he was sitting on.
“Come on, make yourself comfortable,” he said.
Audrey’s frown deepened, as if he had said something offensive.
“I couldn’t possibly impose,” she told him.
“Nonsense,” Agnes said with a warm smile. “You wouldn’t beimposing at all.”
“We’d like some company,” Walter added. “We came on this trip tomeet people—and I don’t think we’ve gotten to know you. I’m Walter Shick andthis is my wife, Agnes.”
When Audrey didn’t reply, London volunteered, “Walter and Agnes,I’d like you to meet Audrey Bolton. And she’d really like a seat with a view ofthe river.”
“Be our guest,” Agnes said.
Audrey’s eyes switched nervously.
London felt as though she was starting to understand what madethe woman tick. Audrey simply liked to complain—and to complain for complaining’ssake. Apparently she didn’t quite know what to do when people kindly offered toresolve those complaints. At the moment she seemed thoroughly stymied.Nevertheless, Audrey sat down on the bench next to Agnes.
London stood and watched for a moment as the couple set right towork trying to draw Audrey out with conversation. The woman wore a perplexed,deer-in-the-headlights expression.
The Shicks are such nice people, she thought. Theycertainly deserve a pleasant vacation.
Several days ago, she’d found out something strange about thecouple. Walter Shick had slipped her a note telling her that he and Agnes hadbeen in the witness protection program for thirty years. In his note, he hadimplored London not to tell another living soul. His note had concluded withthe unsettling words …
Our lives might still be in danger.
London still found it hard to believe that anyone could possiblymean any harm to such a sweet and amiable couple. But she would never think ofasking either of them to tell her more about their past.
As London turned to
