“Why do you want me to do that?”
London couldn’t help rolling her eyes.
“Well, like you said, we’ve got to talk. And I’m not going to tryhaving a conversation with a gigantic chicken.”
“Sorry, but I can’t do that. After all that trouble yesterday, Idon’t want anybody to know it’s me. When I came into town, I found one of thosestalls that sell festival costumes. I picked out this one.”
She chuckled through the mask.
“Appropriate choice, eh? That awful monocle man—may he rest inpeace—called me Frau Huhn, ‘Mrs. Chicken.’ It seemed like asuitable disguise—kind of ironic, if you know what I mean. Almost poetic, whenyou stop to think about it.”
Poetic? London thought.
Again, the change in Audrey struck London.
Poetic? Ironic?
Still chuckling, Audrey said, “I figured this disguise was thebest way not to draw attention to myself.”
London almost guffawed at the absurdity of the statement. But nowit even sounded like Audrey might actually have a sense of humor.
She even likes dogs now!
Where had this version of their cranky passenger been hiding?
Besides, she realized—in a weird way, there was actually sometruth to Audrey’s rationale. If she hadn’t been in costume, at least somepeople in the crowd might have recognized the unusually tall American with wildcurly hair. And some of those people probably suspected the humiliated woman ofbeing involved in Forstmann’s death.
But in the midst of a festival filled with people wearing allkinds of costumes, a gigantic chicken was likely to go unnoticed.
London suddenly wished she had at least put on a mask herself.Ever since she’d arrived at the Maximiliensplatz today, she’d realizedthat some people were giving her odd looks. She knew that many of them musthave seen her up on that huge beer vat when the curtains opened and thespotlights fell directly on her. They would remember seeing her plunge into thevat. They could even have been in the crowd watching when Oberhauser had allbut accused London of being Forstmann’s killer.
Suddenly feeling terribly self-conscious, London started to movealong faster, heading out of Maximiliensplatz into a street where thecrowds were less dense. But she only got a few steps along when the chickenwalking beside her came to a halt.
Planting the big yellow feet firmly in place, Audrey said, “London,I’m sorry, but I’m not going back to the ship.”
“What?” London said.
“I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to go on this mission.”
“You certainly are going back.”
“No, I’m not. I won’t stop what I’m doing on account of someGerman policeman.”
Impatiently, London grabbed the chicken’s wing again.
When Audrey gave a loud squawk, Sir Reggie barked back at her.
London was horrified to see that all the people nearby had turnedto stare at them.
Was she about to have a public altercation with a giganticchicken?
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
It seemed to London that everything froze in place for a longmoment. She knew that she was part of a weird spectacle—standing in astone-paved street in a historic German town, hanging onto one wing of a largechicken while her little dog yapped and a lot of strangers stood staring atthem.
She couldn’t help breaking into a laugh at the ridiculousness ofthe situation.
When she did, she was relieved to see that the people watchingthem relaxed and went on their ways, apparently satisfied that whatever Londonand Audrey were doing was par for the course during the Hoffmann Fest.
London pleaded with the chicken, “Audrey, please take offthe mask.”
“But—”
“Trust me. It’s really not helping.”
Audrey reached up and pulled off the headdress, then shook herhair loose as she tucked the object under her arm. She was sweating from theheat inside the costume, and she actually looked a bit relieved as she took adeep breath.
For some reason, London felt able to breathe more easily as well.
“Maybe we should start over,” she told Audrey. “Will you pleaseexplain to me why you came ashore?”
“Like I said, I was trying to investigate.”
“Why not leave it to the police?”
“That’s kind of hard to explain.”
“Just try.”
Audrey looked down at the ground as she shambled along in heryellow claw-shaped boots and didn’t reply for a couple of moments.
“My therapist says I have issues,” she finally said.
London felt a flash of sympathy. She was hardly surprised, ofcourse. Audrey’s therapist was obviously right.
It can’t be easy being Audrey, she realized.
But even so, London had no idea what those issues could possiblyhave to do with her onshore excursion.
Audrey added with a sigh, “I guess you’ve noticed, I’m notexactly a people person.”
Yes, I’ve noticed, London thought.
Audrey continued, “My therapist says it’s because I have troublewith gratitude. I don’t know how to appreciate things. And people. Iknow he’s right, of course. And it’s not like I don’t have things in my life tobe grateful for. True, I don’t exactly have any friends, and nobody in myfamily can stand to be around me. But hey, I’ve got a good job and a place tolive, and there are three or four TV shows I like, and I read a good book nowand then, and there are even some kinds of food I enjoy. I’ve got to admit,life is good.”
London was starting to feel sad for Audrey now.
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” she said. “What does yourtherapist think you should do about it?”
“He keeps telling me I need to learn to feel gratitude.And it’s like I keep telling him, that’s great advice, but how do I do it? Imean, how do I decide to feel something? I mean, either you feelsomething or you don’t, right? You can’t decide to fall in love withsomebody or really like broccoli, can you? It’s something that happens or itdoesn’t. So what am I supposed to do about it?”
“Yeah, I can understand your problem,” London said.
She was feeling more and more sympathy with Audrey. She was alsofeeling more and more anxious for her to get to the point—if she actually hadone.
“Well, yesterday, something happened,” Audrey said. “It startedwhen you came over to take my side against that awful man—and like I keepsaying, may he rest in peace, but he really was an awful man. You really stoodup for me, and you told him
