Hia hia hia ho
Hia hia hia ho
Hia hia ho …
London was truly taken aback now. She’d never known the usuallyrather staid historian to have such odd mood swings.
She picked up Sir Reggie and asked him, “Was it something I said?”
Sir Reggie let out an uncertain little whine.
The revelers here on the waterfront walkway were growing morenumerous and festive by the minute. As the band struck up yet another tune,London reminded herself of the orders the captain had given her a few momentsago.
“Go ashore and head right into town. Find Ms. Bolton, wherevershe is.”
Now her mind boggled at the task. It would have been hard enoughto go looking for Audrey if the town were quiet and peaceful. How was she goingto find her in the midst of this chaos?
London was troubled by an even more worrisome question.
What if she doesn’t want to be found?
Surely then the task would be impossible.
“Where do you think we should start looking, boy?” she asked herdog.
Sir Reggie looked at her as if she were crazy for asking him.
“I guess it’s up to me, huh?” she said with a sigh. “Well, it’snot like we can go searching house to house. I guess the Maximiliensplatzis as good a place to get started as any. Come on, let’s get going.”
Still carrying Sir Reggie, London made her way through thecrowded waterfront walkway and into a short street leading up into the city.Before she got far along, she turned and looked back at the people gatherednear she ship.
From here, she could see that Emil hadn’t gone away after all. Hehad come right back and was standing where she had first found him, listeningto the band. He even appeared to be again tapping his feet and mouthing thewords to the song.
What’s going on? London wondered
Why had he lied to her just now by telling her he had “businessto attend to”? And why was he behaving so oddly?
She remembered again what Amy had said to her just a couple ofdays ago.
“Honestly, London, there’s so much going on around here thatyou don’t know about.”
It certainly seemed that Amy was right. Not that the ship’sconcierge had been willing to tell London anything helpful. She’d actuallyblamed London for not knowing more about what was going on.
“Don’t you ever look right under your nose?”
London sighed again.
“If only it were that easy,” she murmured aloud.
As she made her way along the stone-paved street into the plazathat was central to the celebration, London mused on the mysteries thatconfounded her.
Too many unanswered questions, she thought.
Why were Amy and Emil both being so furtive? It would certainlybe more helpful if they could be simple and straightforward about things.
Where was Audrey, and why had she disappeared? Could she behiding her own guilt, or at least not talking to London about something sheknew?
And then there was the most worrisome question …
Who killed Sigmund Forstmann?
As she and Sir Reggie neared the Maximiliensplatz, Londoncould hear announcements over a loudspeaker. The words were garbled but shegathered that the winner of the beer competition would be announced later thatafternoon.
London’s spirits sank a little at the sound. She knew that thebrewer’s awards were a big part of the celebration. She needed to find Audreyright away, before the big plaza became even more crowded and hectic thanusual. Although Audrey was exceptionally tall and might stand out in a crowd,it was likely to become harder and harder to find her.
Besides, back on the ship Captain Hays was keeping Detektiv Erlich occupied so she could bringtheir missing passenger back without submitting her to a police roundup. Howlong could the captain ply the detective with food and conversation before thelocal Kriminalpolizei went intoaction?
When she reached the Maximiliensplatz, London was relievedto see that it was still open enough to walk about freely. She put Sir Reggiedown, and the two of them began to wend their way along the stalls where onecould buy, among other things, masks and costumes.
Like yesterday, many of the revelers were costumed as fancifulcharacters—fairies, owls, flowers, nutcrackers, and so forth. A giganticflea and a snowflake appeared to be carrying on a conversation, and their wordscaught her attention.
London heard the snowflake say in German with a chuckle, “Now,now. Let’s not gloat. And let’s not speak ill of the dead.”
The flea replied in German as well. “Well, I’m not sure how elseto talk about him.”
“I know what you mean,” the snowflake said.
“And anyway, it’s just one more reason to celebrate,” the fleasaid. “Do you really think he was murdered by somebody on that cruise boat?”
The snowflake replied, “I’m not sure why any of those peoplewould have done it. None of them knew him like we do. But I can tell you who isthe happiest man in town to have him dead.”
London stopped in her tracks and leaned forward to hear the nextwords.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
As London stood listening, she gasped at what she heard.
The snowflake paused for effect, and then finished the sentence.
“… the Katers Murr himself.”
The flea scoffed. “Surely you’re not saying that Rolf Schilderkilled anybody.”
The snowflake chuckled. “Schilder? A murderer? I hardly think so.But Schilder is going around telling people how happy he is thatForstmann is dead. And he’s got good reason to be happy. Forstmann always wroteterrible reviews of his beer.”
London’s mind was racing. So the Katers Murr was a brewer,and the murdered man had given him bad reviews.
Could it be possible …?
“Those bad reviews were well deserved,” the flea said. “That beerof his is terrible! But anyway, we all know that Schilder is no killer. He’smore like a mouse than a cat. He wouldn’t hurt anybody. Besides, he wouldn’t begloating if he’d really killed someone. He’d be keeping quiet about it.”
“That’s true,” the snowflake replied with a laugh. “And I guessthat if Forstmann’s bad reviews were really a reason for murder, he’d have beendead long ago.”
The flea also laughed. “Whoever did kill him, I’d like to shakehis hand.”
A costumed mouse approached and wagged his finger.
“The two of you should be ashamed, talking like this.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to miss him,” the snowflake
