So what really happened here? she asked herself.
She knew that Detektiv Erlich had been considering atheory that London and Audrey had clubbed the beer critic unconscious, thendragged him up onto the platform, placed him in the chair, and fatally dunkedhim.
Of course London knew that she herself had done nothing of thekind.
But what about Audrey? she wondered.
Could the quarrelsome passenger have done something like thisalone?
Audrey was an unusually tall woman, and for all London knew, shemight be quite strong as well. Herr Forstmann, by contrast, had been aboutLondon’s own height and build.
Maybe it’s possible, London thought.
But was it really plausible?
London tried to imagine how the events might have unfolded. MaybeAudrey and Herr Forstmann had quarreled on the stage behind the curtain—ormaybe right here where London was standing, on the platform. Maybe Audrey hadhit him over the head …
But with what?
Not her purse, surely.
It had to be something hard and cylindrical …
London’s thoughts were interrupted by a man’s voice speaking inGerman.
“I see you’ve returned to the scene of the crime.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
London whirled around in alarm. The man who had spoken so harshlywas standing on the stage below her. His arms were crossed and his stare wasbaleful.
It was Willy Oberhauser, the security guard.
Now I’m in real trouble, she thought.
“You Americans,” Oberhauser said with a smirk. “I guess you havenever heard of police tape, eh? It is supposed to keep you out of active crimescenes.”
He was being sarcastic, of course. London almost said that, yes,Americans had police tape just like the Germans, and she knew all about it, ifonly from watching cop shows on TV. But the last thing she wanted was to comeacross as the least bit snarky.
After all, she really had just broken the law.
“I’m sorry,” she said, picking up Sir Reggie and climbing backdown the stairs to the stage. “I should have asked for permission.”
“Permission for what?” Oberhauser asked.
“Well … to have a look around here for myself.”
“And why would you want to do that?”
The little dog in London’s arms was grumbling as though he mightbreak out into a growl and she didn’t think that would help the situation atall. She patted Sir Reggie and told him shhhh.
Finally she said, “Well, since I’m suspected of murder, you can’tblame me for wanting to check out the evidence. I might have to clear myself.”
“Leave all that to the police,” he said. “They’ll find evidenceto clear you … if you are innocent.”
Startled by his accusatory tone, London realized that thissecurity guard certainly seemed to be prone to mood swings. She remembered howhe’d changed yesterday when he’d broken up her altercation with Herr Forstmann.After he’d sternly separated the two of them, he’d been remarkably pleasanttoward her—and actually rather sympathetic. He’d even been eager to make SirReggie’s acquaintance.
She also remembered his cheerful parting words on that occasion.
“Enjoy the rest of your visit.”
But his attitude toward her had taken a dark turn again as soonas Herr Forstmann’s body was found. He’d been the first person to name Londonand Audrey as suspects in the murder.
And now London wondered …
Why?
Did he really suspect her? Or was he anxious to be the one whosolved the crime?
Or … could he be trying to deflect any possible suspicion …?
As calmly as she could manage, she said, “Surely you don’t reallythink I had anything to do with Forstmann’s death.”
“It’s not my job to make any such assumptions.”
London felt her composure slipping away.
“Well, it’s certainly what you did yesterday,” she told him, “whenyou pointed me out to Detektiv Erlich. And isn’t it what you’re doing now? Whyare you so anxious to blame me? You said yourself that lots of people in Bamberggot angry about Herr Forstmann’s behavior at the festival every year—includingyourself.”
The security guard didn’t move from his spot.
Is he going to arrest me? London wondered with dread.
“Like I said, I’m sorry,” she said, trying to sound more repentantthan she felt. “I’ll leave right now. But first maybe you could help me withsomething. I’m looking for that tall woman I was with yesterday. The one HerrForstmann spilled beer all over.”
“You mean the one who might have helped you kill Forstmann?”Oberhauser said.
London fought down the urge to answer him sharply.
“Have you seen her today?” she said instead.
“No, and I hope I don’t. I’m having enough trouble with all ofyou nosy Americans today.”
London’s forehead crinkled with interest.
“Who do you mean?” she asked.
Oberhauser said, “There’s a man wearing sunglasses who keepstelling people he’s a detective who is going to solve the case all by himself.”
Bob Turner, London realized.
The security guard continued, “I’ve told him more than once tomind his own business, but he never listens. And I’m telling you the samething—to mind your own business, or else. It’s time you both took heed.”
His expression was grim as stepped toward her, and his handreached menacingly toward a holster on his hip.
“Otherwise, I promise there will be consequences,” he said,glaring directly into her eyes.
London shuddered sharply.
Is he threatening me with deadly force? she wondered.
And maybe threatening Bob as well?
It seemed like an absolutely crazy idea. Here she was in a lovelycity where a celebration was taking place. In fact, she could hear the soundsof the Hoffmann Fest in progress nearby. She knew that people in clevercostumes from E.T.A. Hoffman stories were celebrating right there in the plazain front of the stage. It even sounded like the Katers Murr might stillbe clowning around on the front side of that closed red curtain, perhaps nomore than twenty feet away. But here behind the curtain and further hidden bythe edge of the proscenium, both she and Oberhauser were masked from sight.
Would anyone hear her if she cried out?
And what would happen if they did?
Oberhauser was an official security guard. He was a localauthority, and she was just on tour from a faraway country.
What if he did something really rash, then made up his own storyabout what had happened? Might
