Oh, yes.
Fern Weh.
At the time she thought maybe thename was Asian.
Looking into Sir Reggie’s eyes,she said it aloud.
“Fern Weh. Does that name meananything to you, boy?”
Sir Reggie let out a grumblingsound, as if he wondered the same thing.
Then London said it again andrealized something.
“Fern Weh. Fernweh! It’s one word,Sir Reggie! One German word!”
Sir Reggie grumbled again, as ifhe wanted more of an explanation.
It took London a couple of secondsto remember what that word meant.
“Of course,” she said aloud. “Itmeans ‘wanderlust.’”
And now she’d been reminded thatMom’s name meant “stranger” or “foreigner.”
Were the meanings of those twonames just a coincidence?
Or was it possible that Mom hadposted that advertisement after all?
London struggled to make sense of her own thoughts.
Why Fern Weh? she asked herself.
Then she remembered somethingSelma had said about Mom.
“She seemed … well, a little mysterious somehow. Asthough she just didn’t want to talk about herself in any detail.”
Might Mom have started travelingunder an assumed identity?
It seemed like a crazy idea. Butthen, Mom was hardly what anyone could call a normal person.
London looked carefully at thephone number, wondering if she should call it.
Tia’s words echoed through herear.
“London, don’t even think of it.”
Maybe that was good advice after all.
“She never wanted to be found,” Tia had also said.
But London suddenly realized—shedidn’t care. Mom had left a family behind. As much as she might want todisappear without a trace, it wasn’t her decision to make—not when herdisappearance affected the lives of people she loved.
London set Sir Reggie down. Herfingers shook as she read the number on the slip of paper and punched it intoher cell phone. She heard a couple of rings, then an automated voice.
“Die von Ihnen erreichte Nummerist nicht in Betrieb.”
London sighed aloud as shetranslated the words in her head.
“The number you have reached isnot in service …”
And of course, the messagecontinued to advise London to try again if she thought she’d called this numberin error.
London did try again, and she gotthe same message.
Staring at the phone, she inhaledand exhaled slowly, not certain whether she felt disappointed or relieved.
The Nachtmusik was nowsailing under the gate between two massive towers. Spread before her along thecanal were the lights of Nuremberg—an industrial area, hardly anything scenic.
She got up from the chair and saidto Sir Reggie, “Let’s go back to the room and try to sleep again, OK?”
As if in agreement, Reggie jumpedout of her arms and trotted in front of her toward the elevator.
As they rode down to the Allegro deck, London remembered how the messageon the bulletin board had been mostly buried under other ads and messages, andalso that it looked yellowed and old. It probably had been posted quite a longtime ago.
Anyhow, the number was out ofservice now. And of course, she had no idea whether “Fern Weh” really was Mom. Thewhole thing was a dead end.
London admonished herself toforget the odd message and focus on her job. She had plenty of things to takecare of right here on the Nachtmusik.
Tomorrow they would be in Bamberg.Surely that would give her a nice break from any personal concerns. She waslooking forward to a quiet and peaceful visit to a lovely historical town.
CHAPTER NINE
Strange and unexpected sounds drew London toward the rail on the Rondodeck.
What on earth …?
Was that music she heard, or something else entirely?
She had first noticed the noise from her stateroom when she wasdoing research and planning today’s tour while having a light breakfast. SirReggie had kept right on sleeping soundly after spending a restless nightpassing through the locks, so she’d left him there and hurried up to the ship’stop deck.
Several passengers were already gathered at the railing, staringout over Bamberg and chattering with each other. When London joined them, shesaw that the Nachtmusik’s crew was finishing up their dockingprocedures, tying massive ropes around the shore bitts and preparing thegangway. With its steep red roofs and half-timber houses and church spires, thetown of Bamberg looked like the fairy-tale setting she had expected.
It did seem odd that so many of the people she could see on thewaterfront walkway and adjoining streets were dressed in colorful costumes.Most were wearing folk Bavarian clothes, women in puffy outfits called dirndlsand men in short pants called lederhosen. Others were more weirdlydecked out as mice, snakes, some kind of bugs that she thought resembled fleas,and still other whimsical characters.
But strangest of all was the noise, like a gigantic band tuningup or playing dozens of different melodies at the same time.
Before London could ask anybody if they knew what was going on,she heard Captain Hays’s voice behind her.
“Ah, the revelry is well under way! Capital! I wish I could jointhe festivities myself. Maybe I’ll be able to get away for a bit later on.”
Grinning with delight behind his walrus-style mustache, theportly captain joined London to look out over the railing.
“Captain, what’s going on out there?” London asked him.
“Oh, I thought you knew,” the captain said with a wiggle of hisbushy eyebrows. “Today is the beginning of Hoffmann Fest here inBamberg.”
“I didn’t know there was going to be a festival here.”
“You didn’t? Well, I suppose you might not have heard. If we’dfollowed our original schedule, we’d have missed it. But there’s a silverlining to everything, I imagine, including setbacks and delays—although Isuppose I must draw the line at murder. The festival should be great fun forall. Meanwhile, I must get back to the bridge. Ah, the endless and burdensomeduties of command!”
The captain turned and headed off toward his glass-enclosedbridge.
Now London was starting to get the picture. The local policeinvestigations of two murders had set their voyage a full day behind schedule.If the Nachtmusik had arrived here yesterday, they would have found acharming and rather quiet historic Bavarian town. Today it was bustling andnoisy. The cacophonous music was surely coming from many smaller ensemblesplaying at different places in town.
London couldn’t wrap her head about what this development wouldmean for today’s schedule.
And now all she knew was that some major and unexpected event wasunfolding here in Bamberg, the so-called Hoffmann Fest. She was going to haveto
