“No, I couldn’t stand him, but even so …”
The costumed characters moved out of earshot.
They’re not exactly grief-stricken, she thought.
Nor did she suppose she had any reason to be surprised. It waslike Captain Hays had said to Detektiv Erlich a little while ago.
“Just about everybody in your lovely town is a viable suspect.”
London could understand why Detektiv Erlich would preferthat someone aboard the Nachtmusik had killed Forstmann. Bamberg’sfestival would suffer bad publicity if someone who lived in Bamberg had killedForstmann out of spite. By contrast, the last thing London wanted was for themurderer to be somebody aboard the Nachtmusik.
But what if that turned out to be the case?
As she moved on around the plaza, London caught sight of a coupleof familiar faces. Bob Turner had come ashore after all, and so had StanleyTedrow. Bob appeared to be circulating among the crowd asking people questions,presumably about Forstmann’s death. Tedrow was following him around, dutifullytaking notes about his investigative mentor’s methods.
London wondered—was there even the slightest possibility that Bobmight turn up some clues or evidence? From past experience she doubted it, butshe hoped she was wrong. More than that, she hoped Bob’s efforts weren’t goingto do more harm than good.
The crowd was beginning to build up now, so she picked up SirReggie again. Just a few moments later, she was truly startled when the airsuddenly filled up with what looked at first like large pieces of confetti.
She reached out and grabbed one of the floating papers. It wasn’tconfetti, but what appeared to be paper currency—various denominations ofGerman Deutsche Mark. The people around her were laughing and grabbing thebills for themselves.
What on earth …? London wondered.
Then it occurred to her—the Deutsche Mark hadn’t been Germany’sofficial currency since 2002, when the country had adopted the euro. She lookedmore closely at the two-hundred-mark bill in her hand, and sure enough, theportrait on it wasn’t of some historical figure but a comical make-believe cat.
Katers Murr, she realized. Tomcat Murr.
It was pretend money, printed especially for the festival.
The revelers, of course, knew this, and were having a great timeseizing gobs of the phony money and throwing it around to each other. BeforeLondon could figure out exactly what was going on or why, she heard a voice callingout in German from the direction of the stage.
“All this and more can be yours! Just vote for Zenitbrauenfor this year’s first prize! There is plenty of money where this came from!”
London pushed toward the stage. Pacing about in an open area infront of the stage was a man in the same enormous cat costume she’d glimpsed inthe crowd at the moment when she’d discovered Forstmann’s drowned body. Thistime he was also wearing an ermine robe and a paper crown.
He was carrying a bag of the phony money and throwing iteverywhere among the laughing crowd.
London turned to a pair of delighted bystanders.
“What’s going on?” she asked them in German over the din.
“You must be from the ship,” said one of the bystanders.
“I guess you wouldn’t know,” said the other. “The Katers Murris pretending to bribe the crowd into voting for Zenitbrauen, his ownbrewery, to win the beer competition. Whoever is chosen to be the cat does thisevery year.”
“It’s a joke, of course,” said the other. “The voting is alreadydone and over with, and the ballots are being counted right now. Later on, themaster of ceremonies will announce the real winner of the brewers prize.”
London and Sir Reggie watched for a few moments as Katers Murrcontinued his antics. She remembered the name the costumed figures hadsaid—Rolf Schilder.
“More like a mouse,” they’d said.
Mouse or cat, the man was being appropriately silly. She watchedfor a few moments, then forced her attention back to the reason why she washere.
She’d made her way all the way across the Maximiliensplatzwithout seeing Audrey anywhere. She dreaded the thought of going back to theship without her. But was she really going to spend the rest of the daywandering among the growing crowd? After all, she had no way of knowing whetherAudrey was even anywhere nearby.
While she tried to make up her mind, she found herself eyeing theclosed red curtain, wondering what might still be behind it. The dunking of KatersMurr had been scheduled for yesterday. Surely it had been canceled altogether.So had the huge vat of beer and the dunking device been removed? And where wasthe police tape she’d seen yesterday?
London walked around behind the edge of the makeshift prosceniumarch that framed the stage. Sure enough, the stage itself was still surroundedby police tape. And the vat, the steps and platform, and the trick chair wereall still in place.
London looked around. Despite all the noise just a few feet away,she saw that she was truly alone. The edge of the proscenium masked her fromthe view of the crowd.
She started to feel her curiosity get the better of her.
As if sensing this, Sir Reggie let out what sounded like a whineof protest.
“You’re probably right, pal,” London said as she set him down onthe edge of the stage. “I know this is still a crime scene. But I can’t helpmyself. I guess I’m just having a ‘Nancy Drew’ moment.”
She ducked under the police tape to join Sir Reggie on the stage.The dog sniffed the floor, taking an interest in the dried stains where beerhad been puddled yesterday after Sigmund Forstmann’s fall into the vat.
The whole stage smelled strongly of stale beer. As she and SirReggie climbed the steps, she wasn’t surprised to see that the vat was stillfull, with an unhealthy-looking filmy layer of froth and grime spread acrossthe top. London guessed that the beer would have been removed by now undernormal circumstances.
The last time she’d been here, she’d been soaked with beer andtoo badly shaken to really try to work out logically what had happened here.She hoped maybe she could do better now.
First she looked carefully at the chair itself. Its bottom stillhung loose from having been triggered into dropping Herr Forstmann. Londonremembered Polizist Wedekind saying he’d personally inspected the machinery forsafety. It certainly looked safe enough to London.
London could
