by Edna Dawes
“Uh?” he grunted, leaning towards her belligerently.
A voice over her head placated the man with a short sentence, and a hand slid under her elbow.
“You leap from one danger to another, don’t you! I think you will be safer along here with me for a minute.” Anton Reiter indicated a high stool and asked her what she would like to drink.
“I think I should return to my friends,” she said quickly. “They are at a table over there.”
“I know. Your English friend is busily dancing with Friedl at the moment and does not appear overanxious about you. How about that drink?”
She gave in, and he called out to the barman. Another customer further along objected in a friendly manner to being overlooked and the laughing banter between them left Kathryn free to wonder about Anton. In a blue-and-white-checked woollen shirt and grey tweed trousers, he looked more youthful and relaxed than she had ever seen him. His smooth fair hair was slightly ruffled tonight and the strong lines of his features had softened in the pleasant atmosphere, making the blue of his eyes warmer than usual. He threw back his head with laughter at a particularly caustic remark and it struck her that here was a man’s man in every sense of the word. He would have been in his element amongst groups of fellow sportsmen discussing the conditions of the snow and the hazards of the ski-runs they had used. How could he bear to leave it all to bury himself in a shop!
He turned back to her and smilingly apologized for neglecting her. “I won’t translate. It would prove too embarrassing – for me, not you.” He lifted his glass. “Zum Wohl!”
“Zum Wohl!” she repeated awkwardly, remembering Robert saying that Austrians flung themselves into their revelries with as much dedication as they put into their work.
“You are looking very pretty tonight after your ordeal.” His eyes lingered on her almost-bare shoulders in the peasant blouse. “Did you rest as I suggested?”
“I fell asleep straight away. Schnapps must be pretty potent stuff.”
“Stimmt!” He looked at the cluster of curls held by a comb on top of her head. “You should have more if it makes you so gay. I did not know you intended coming to the Forellenabend. You did not say so when I suggested postponing our talk until later this evening.”
His scrutiny bothered her acutely, and he was touching on a difficult decision she had to make. “I had forgotten. Robert invited me two days ago. Still, we could hardly have talked if you had planned to be here, could we.”
“I had not, until Frau Petz told me where you had gone.”
“You came because I was here? You don’t have to watch my every movement, Herr Reiter.”
He smiled wickedly. “This evening I shall enjoy watching your every movement . . . and my name is Anton. I think I already told you that.”
How did one handle a man who changed personalities in such a bewildering fashion, she thought, not liking the sensation he was arousing in her. In an attempt to return to a business-like footing she said, “I haven’t thanked you properly for taking me in your car this afternoon. When we arrived at your house I didn’t really have all my wits about me. I hope I didn’t appear ungrateful.”
He looked taken aback. “I do not require to be thanked properly, as you put it, especially during a festive evening.”
“I feel I have taken up too much of your time over this affair,” she continued doggedly. “Robert . . . Mr. Farr has offered to help me from now on. He is very anxious that I should return home as soon as possible.”
There was a definite return to that clipped coldness in his voice when he said, “And what are your feelings on the subject?”
She glanced away at the shiny bottles at the back of the bar. “I came here to work.”
“Ah yes, the fairy tales.”
“The fairy tales,” she repeated firmly, still refusing to meet his eyes. “In any case, I don’t suppose I can simply pack up and leave while this accident case is hanging over me, although when I tell the Inspector what I remember, it may simplify matters. Meanwhile, Robert will keep an eye on me. After all, he is . . .”
“English,” he finished for her, “and you will cling to your own countryman, in trouble.”
Her head swung round at that. “It is a national characteristic.”
“So I believe,” he flashed back. “I hope he looks after you well.”
The music had stopped and, feeling awkward now, she stood up with every intention of returning to Robert, but before she could speak, their arms were seized by a merry couple in traditional costume who dragged them on to the dance floor to make a foursome. The young man made a laughing comment to Anton and Kathryn demanded to know what was happening.
“We have been invited to take part in a local dance which depicts an old Austrian custom,” he explained seriously. “We cannot refuse or they will be offended. Just follow what we do – it is quite simple.”
Amid loud ya ha hoos and stamping feet, the band broke into a mazurka-type tune which proved irresistible. The steps were quite basic. All four went round in a circle, first one way then the other, and wove in and out as they went. Soon, Kathryn found herself caught up in the rhythm and smiled gaily at the others as she circled. Her imagination was caught by the pretty dirndl of the girl and the embroidered shorts of her saucy young partner, so that visions of herself as a flaxen-haired Gretel in a storybook village made her forget everything but the steps of the dance. This was what she had wanted to experience; the Austrians being themselves.
The melody changed and the men placed an arm around their partner’s waist to form a windmill shape with two neighboring couples. Round they went with merrily stamping feet until the music changed again and Kathryn found her hands taken by Anton who swung her round so fast her full skirt flared out. Next minute, he ducked under in a quick turn which brought them close together, bound by her arms around him held behind his back by his own hands.
“This is the old Austrian custom,” he said into her ear.
The kiss was as evocative as it was unexpected. He held her hands behind him in a firm grip so that their bodies were close together as they circled on the spot. The pressure of his lips grew more insistent as the kiss lasted, while all around the room stamping feet thumped louder on the floor.
A loud cheer broke the couples apart and the dance continued with the original circles. The music bounced, people shouted, the lights over the bar went round and round like a fairground, and the other dancers could have been figures in a dream for all Kathryn cared. She was stunned by the joyous pain that embrace had brought, and the thumping heart within her which cried out against it. No longer was she a storybook character. Flaxen-haired children knew nothing of aroused desire, or the ache which a man’s lips could start deep inside a woman!
The windmill figures started once more and Anton bent close.
“I hope it is also a custom in England, because now it is you who must kiss me.”
She thought wildly of breaking free and returning to the table, but her action would make her the center of attraction and a subject for comment for the remainder of the evening. She shrank from drawing attention to herself in that way. When the moment came she stood on tiptoe intending to give him a peck on the cheek, but he turned quickly and sent her soaring again with a full-blooded embrace which made Robert’s kisses seem like a brotherly salute. Breaking apart, he held her still for a minute while he studied her face.
“I am sorry, mein Schätzen, I should have warned you.”
He could not have made it plainer that he knew how she felt. Even if she had not read it in his eyes, those words of apology said it all.
They walked to the table where Robert and the Braun family were watching their approach. The Germans had broad smiles on their flushed faces, but Robert remained straightfaced when he stood up to allow Kathryn past him.
“I was just coming to rescue you,” he said pointedly. “I told you the locals get rather wild at this sort of affair. It looks as though he is going to attach h
imself to us now. I wish I knew how to tell him to clear off.”
“It depends how rude you wish to be when you say it,” said Anton smoothly. “Like the English, we have our vulgar expressions.”
Kathryn felt terrible. “Robert, this is Herr . . .”
“Anton Reiter,” he said with cold formality. “Good evening, Mr. Farr.”
Robert had the grace to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “We never expect you people to understand English.”
“That’s quite all right,” returned Anton. “We never expect you people to understand German.”
The moment was saved by the Brauns insisting on being introduced, and they made every effort to persuade him to join them. He shook his head and must have made some excuse, but they begged him to tell them the story of the trout before he left. The younger Frau Braun told Kathryn in faltering French what was being said, but none of her words meant anything because Anton was leaning on Kathryn’s chair while he spoke and his nearness continued the confusion in her.
What she felt was impossible! He was a foreigner with an alien way of life, a language she didn’t understand, and an incomprehensible temperament; a shopkeeper whose sporting career was terminated by a doubtful accident which made international headlines. It must be purely physical attraction which had brought this breathless feeling – that, and the look in his eyes!
The highlight of the evening’s celebrations came soon afterwards when a village youth dressed as the legendary fisherman of eighteen sixty-four led a procession on to the floor. Six local men carried an enormous replica of a silver salver on which rested a plaster model of the giant trout. After it had been paraded round the room to the accompaniment of a robust song, the salver was laid on the floor and the bearers performed a special dance around it. There was plenty of shorts-smacking and hand-clapping, apart from the general fisherman’s movements of throwing a line and scooping up a fish in a net. Young Peter from the garage was amongst the dancers, and many a young girl had her eye on him. Kathryn watched him carefully, noticing in particular how strong his hands were. Were those the hands which had pushed her towards the trough?
The atmosphere progressed from gemütlich to very frantic soon after the arrival of the trout, and Kathryn asked Robert to take her home. He agreed at once and they bade good night to the Brauns before pushing their way through the crowd to the door. There was no sign of Anton, and a sharp pang of disappointment shot through her that he had left without giving her any sign of farewell. Throughout the evening, her eyes had been unable to avoid meeting his across the dancers, but he had made no attempt to come over again.
Robert had been very quiet since the kissing dance and Kathryn felt sorry. That unaccustomed rudeness to Anton could only have stemmed from jealousy. She had come as his partner and ended up kissing someone else. He was entitled to resentment, she supposed.
“Thank you for taking me,” she said, impulsively pushing her arm through his as they walked. “It was obviously a special village celebration which was not put on for the benefit of the tourists.”
He patted her hand and left his over it. “I hope it cheered you up after the rotten time you have had recently.” There was a pause before he said, “You must thrive on danger. I have never seen you glow like you did tonight.”
Deeming it wise to ignore the implication she said, “The trout procession and fishing dance was just the sort of thing I go overboard for. Put it down to my child-like mind. My mother always maintains I have never really grown up because I love anything which smacks of fantasy.”
She caught the shine of his eyes as he smiled down at her. “You’re grown up, take my word for it.”
For several minutes they strode in silence, their matching footsteps ringing out in the deserted street while they each coped with private thoughts. A few yards further on was the garage, and Kathryn was reminded of the tow-haired Peter who, for reasons of his own, did not want her to get mobile. They drew level with the big double-doors and she casually glanced down the narrow path which ran beside the workshop. Then, she checked her stride and pulled on Robert’s arm to make him stop.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Shh!” she urged. “Can you see that light moving around down there? That’s the yard where my car is parked.”
“I suppose someone is checking that everything is all right,” Robert reasoned.
“Maybe, but I’m going to take a look. I already have my suspicions of this place.”
“Kathryn, don’t be foolish,” said Robert standing his ground.
“Wait for me here, then.” She moved off knowing that he would never let her go alone.
From over the wall they could see all they wanted. The wide gates on the opposite side of the compound were open and two red Volkswagens were drawn up side by side. Two men were by the cars, one with a large torch, and the other, on his haunches in front of the bonnets. The beam from the flashlight identified him as Peter, fresh from the dance, and he was unscrewing the number plates from one of the cars while his companion talked softly to him.
Kathryn squeezed Robert’s hand to indicate that he shouldn’t speak and they both watched as the young garage owner exchanged the numberplates of both cars. When the job was done, the other man slid into one, of the cars and prepared to drive off. Before he did, he leaned from the window to give a final message and light from the torch fell full on his face. Kathryn gasped. Why should Dr. Hallstein be involved in nocturnal activities which involved removing the number plates from Kathryn’s own car and fixing them to an identical vehicle?
She turned to Robert and breathed, “So that’s how a damaged car can get an instant repair. It’s so simple no one would think of it.”
“They did,” he pointed out. “But why?”
Chapter Five
Kathryn was not able to spend the day with Robert after all. They were sitting together at breakfast still discussing the events of the previous night in hushed tones when Maria came across to their table.
“Inspector Schultz has sent a car and wishes you to visit the Gendarmerie as soon as possible, Miss Davis.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Robert at once.
“No, it’s quite all right. I’d really rather go alone,” she replied knowing he wouldn’t leave it at that.
“But there’s this business about the British Consul,” he objected.
“I thought I made it quite clear last night that I didn’t want a full-scale advertisement of the situation.” Her voice sharpened. Nice as he was, Robert was beginning to annoy her with his mother-hen attitude.
“Sorry,” he said huffily. “If you think you can handle it, go ahead, but I thought we had agreed that I should keep an eye on you.”
At once repentant, she softened her approach with, “How about taking me on one of your walks later on? We could have an early lunch together, then I’ll place myself in your hands entirely.”
He returned her smile reluctantly. “O.K. but watch your step this morning, won’t you.”
“I promise.” She walked away to fetch her coat feeling very guilty. After they had reached the Gasthaus last night they had talked for over an hour in her room, trying to piece together the strange scene they had witnessed and failing to reach a conclusion. The discussion had become rather heated when Robert tried to insist she put herself completely in his charge until he had arranged her safe return to England.
When she flatly refused, he confessed that his concern for her was more than that of a friend for another. The kiss which followed suggested he might have been trying to outdo Anton, and Kathryn began to have grave doubts about the wisdom of having invited him to her room to talk. His reluctance to leave caused a slight problem for several minutes, but he took her heavy hints eventually and she closed the door behind him with mixed feelings. He was very persuasive and she had encouraged him to a certain extent, but in the sudden darkness after the light went out she wondered if she would have had the willpower to march Anton R
eiter through that door!
It seemed his thoughts had also been on her during the night because Inspector Schultz told her right away that he had sent for her following a report which had been phoned in to Franz Mitterbauer by his brother-in-law. He had not trusted Robert to look after her interests, it seemed.
“I understand you now recall the complete details of your accident, Miss Davis. I shall be very pleased to hear them.”
She told him about the dark bend in the road and the shape which had run out from the rocks, ending with her affirmation that she had not hit him.
“Thank you, Miss Davis. You did not see clearly the person who ran in front of you, I suppose?”
“No, he came from the rocks on the right just as I was taking the bend. I was only aware of a dark shape before I turned.”
“Does that mean he was in dark clothes?”
She pulled up short. “I suppose so, yes. I would have noticed a lighter coat more.”
“Hmm. The victim was in dark brown.”
“But I didn’t hit him,” she repeated firmly. Then, feeling that this interview was getting nowhere, she added, “Herr Reiter and I have come to the conclusion that there were two people on Kapellerpass that afternoon. I could have seen the dead man – or the person who killed him.”
“Which person who killed him?” the Inspector shot at her.
“I don’t know,” she floundered, “but if I didn’t run him down, someone else must have killed him.”
The police officer gave her a very long look, then said, “I heard you are a writer, Miss Davis. Do you perhaps specialize in detective stories?”
Oh, he was insufferable! Kathryn felt her temper rising and flung at him, “It would explain why a man should try to drown me at the trout farm.”
“Yes, yes,” he murmured. “Are you feeling more yourself now?”
That did it! She stood up angrily and tilted her chin in the air. “If you have no further questions to ask, Inspector, I really have more important things to do today.”
He rose too. “Thank you for coming. It is a pity you did not get a good look at the dark shape you say you saw.”
