Aria in Ice
Page 13
“Because she’s a bitch. I’m sorry, Johnny. Really.”
“For what?”
“For not socking her in her overly-collagened lips, then pondering not-so-great things after Lily laid her little bombshell out last night.”
“What not-so-great thoughts were you pondering?”
“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I wasn’t even specific in those thoughts. My gosh, Shay comes up with scenarios to curl your hair, yet tells me to trust and I honestly couldn’t imagine anything bad enough to have landed you behind bars. Really. Uh. The word ‘research.’ was my first thought as in, ‘Johnny got himself behind bars to research something for Endless Time.’” I smiled. “I did wonder if robbery was your thing. Having seen your butt slide out of a tower window at the castle, I could just see you sliding out of other windows. You’ll be happy to hear I didn’t even consider murder although by rights you should be listed with the other suspects around here for that piano tuner’s demise.”
Johnny smiled, then reached over and added another kolache to his plate from the dozen or so that had been placed in a basket in the middle of the table. He carefully took a bite, chewed and finished before he said another word. “Abby. It’s okay. More than okay. You’d just been told by that, saccharine-smiling, scheming—ah shit, words fail me when it comes to Lily Lowe—anyway, you’d just learned that I had a prison record thanks to her poisonous and mistaken mouth. Although, I guess I am an ex-con if you want to get literal. I should have told you ages ago, but honestly? It’s not looming large in importance anymore. A week spent in what was actually a very nice jail space all for rescuing giant pussycats ten years ago doesn’t keep me awake nights.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“For what? Going to breakfast and listening to my side of the story instead of giving me the silent treatment for the next week? There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Well, I’d like to go open up a big can of whup ass on Lily Lowe’s bimbo-headed blonde curls though. Why the hell was she yakking about your past? And how did she find out anything anyway?”
“Are you serious? Join the Twenty-first Century and learn to spy on your friends and neighbors. Heck, woman, you can get background checks of almost any kind on the Internet for a price. Type in your credit card number and pay your $39.95 and not only can you find out whether your new business partner or lover is a serial child molester, if you ‘act today, the offer of information comes with steak knives, a bamboo steamer and a set of coasters!’” His expression grew less cheerful. “Now, as to why the lovely Lily Lowe decided to check on me in the first place? That’s a question I plan to ask the next time I see her. Which will hopefully be at the castle with a room full of people because I’ve never yet socked a woman and I don’t want to start now. Well, unless you count Melissa Harrigan in first grade who refused to let me release the fireflies she was keeping in a sealed jar.
“You’re a worse softie than I, you macho actor, you. Fireflies and lions. Next you’ll be telling me you pick up stray dogs and -oh my-actually keep them!”
He looked sheepish. “You know I do. Except I can’t keep them. Someday when you’re Mrs. Gerard and we’re sharing a big space to put the pups in, I’d love for us to have about ten. Sadly, ‘til then, we’re both gone so much it’s not fair to the pups.” His expression hardened again. “But Lily Lowe’s efforts to entertain using the private life of Johnny Gerard make me feel anything but soft.” He scowled. “Ah crap, I shouldn’t have told you all this. I should have let you believe I was a three-strikes-you’re-out arsonist or something even if it meant breaking up with you for awhile.”
“What! Why?”
“I mentioned this the other night but it bears repeating. Because I don’t want you—or Shay anywhere near Kastle Kouzlo Noc.”
I straightened up. “Wait. I thought you were all set to acknowledge my place in your misbegotten life as your best beloved. What did I do now?”
“Don’t be dense, gorgeous. You know you haven’t done anything. It’s what’s been done.”
“Ah. You mean murder.”
Chapter 17
Johnny nodded. “Yep. The big “M.”
“Wait. We talked about this before. Why run Shay and me off now?”
“Because I learned a bit more about the activities at the castle. Gustav was found by our favorite actor, Franz, on a spot on the grounds that fit perfectly with having been pushed out of the north tower window in the exact room where one Abby Fouchet has been ghost-hunting—and nearly everyone involved with Kouzlo Noc was nearby—including the latecomers to the north wing where that one Abby Fouchet was doing that ghost-hunting.”
“What did the police say?”
“I didn’t take the body to the little village, remember? Franz and Corbin did. I was a latecomer to the party. As to the police? From what Veronika has said, they’re still holding the body, partly for identification since Veronika didn’t have his last name and partly because they want the local coroner to make a determination.”
“Well, that’s something anyway. Look, Johnny, isn’t it remotely possible that he was snooping in that room and really did lean too far out of that window and fell? I honestly didn’t see anything in my vision other than,” I shuddered, “someone falling. No pitching beforehand.”
“Sure. And it’s possible that he decided to try a Superman routine and see if he could fly. Doubtful as hell but possible. Let’s get real. Half the crowd here to do the movie isn’t here to do the movie and the other half, which really isn’t half since it’s just one other person—Corbin—has one damn flimsy excuse for roaming the cemetery at all hours.”
“Well, duh.”
“Nicely stated.” Johnny grimaced. “Interesting that out of the cast of characters assembled in Prague and associated with Kouzlo Noc in some way, the only people I’m sure did not come here to search for a certain dead musician’s flute are you, me and Shay.”
I stayed silent for a second. “ Which begs the question, why are you really here? Did Yolanda talk to Madam Eurphoria, sense trouble then send Gregory Noble to scope things out?”
“Moi? Except for current murder, which I didn’t expect, Yolando really did just send me to the castle to do Veronika a favor by restoring her mural. Of course, now that I know about Ignatz and his flute, I think Yolanda had a little hidden agenda, as in—legends and ghosts would be great for ratings on the show. Hell, Yolanda knew with my natural curiosity,” he grinned, “which some might call nosiness, I’d hear about Ignatz within three minutes of knocking on those dragons at the castle. But, now, if I should happen across a magical, legendary flute while I’m—what’s your word? ‘Muraling’ well, I can’t say that I’d toss it into the nearest moat. I would hand it over to—well—I’d say Jozef Jezek is the logical choice.”
“Definitely. Now—back to Gustav.”
“Yes?”
“Who was he? Was he really here to tune the piano? Do you know?”
“Veronika told me he showed up at the door the other day, pulled the tapestry bell and charmed her into hiring him to tune the piano you probably haven’t even seen since it’s in the east wing. Apparently, he did do a bit of tinkering before wandering off to take a tour of the towers.” He gave out sort of a chortled snort. “Veronika said she heard a few nice notes from the instrument before she and the girls went out to gather rosebuds or something. Of course, Veronika’s ear for music is probably as good as my lions’ ability to stand up for rescuer Johnny in court.”
“Nice comparison.” I squinted at him. “Is Veronika suspicious of Gustav’s death?”
Johnny shook his head. “She’s hiding any and all sad truths from herself. She’s dealt with too much tragedy in her life and she’s scared to admit violence is visiting Kouzlo Noc again. So she’s convinced herself that a nearly anonymous piano tuner just happened to drop dead of a heart attack under the infamous north tower.”
“An explanation you’re obviously not wrapping up in a bow and ta
king home.”
“Damn straight. I don’t believe that any of the Duskovas climbed those stairs for a bit of pushing practice, but I damn well do believe that someone else was wandering Kouzlo Noc and for whatever reason, helped the piano tuner meet an early demise.”
I shivered. “Scary—and sad.”
We fell silent for a few moments. Finally, I spoke up, “Gad. It just hit me. What you said about everyone of us who ended up in that music room in the north tower that day. Anyone could easily have gotten in without being seen, couldn’t they?”
“Ta-Da! See why I’d like you to leave? You nailed it. Could be anyone. And how to track down a killer? Unless your second sight kicks in with arrows pointing and DNA tested. Seriously, it’s too easy to establish alibis and even if I could prove that Lily Lowe, for instance, was warbling arias in the trees across from the tower, it wouldn’t mean she’d swung over on a branch and committed murder.”
I couldn’t restrain my laughter. “You don’t like her much, do you?”
“I’m not fond of tellers of tales about others’ pecadillos, unless those pecadillos include violent crime and warnings are necessary. Speaking of which and I know I’m sounding like the proverbial broken record, but will you and Shay please heed my warning and find another castle to rent? Preferably in—oh—California?”
I didn’t miss a beat. “If you believe that Shay Martin would forego the delicious opportunity to film in a castle that’s not only haunted but is the scene of a very recent murder, well—let’s just say your thought processes would be as out of tune as the Duskova harpsichord. She’s already hip deep in atmosphere. Wouldn’t surprise me to have her decide to write in a mad scene or something and pitch some stunt man out of the north tower. With a trampoline below so he could spring back up of course.”
Johnny growled, “Well, what about you? You’ve found the damn castle—isn’t your job over?”
“A—I wouldn’t leave Shay to deal with all these crazies and possible murderers. B—My job isn’t really done. I have to help her choreograph two dance sequences for the film and teach them to a dance captain who is currently, and wisely, not in Prague. In fact, he’s onstage until next Friday—in Oklahoma. The show, not the state. C.” I paused then took a deep breath. “You’re not going to like C.”
“I’m sure I’m not. I didn’t like A or B, either. But educate me as to C.”
“I don’t want to go. I want to find out what’s going on with ghosts and flutes at Kouzlo Noc. And I’m not leaving you here to play hero by yourself, either.” I gasped. “Oh my God!”
“What?”
“I bet it wasn’t Ignatz Jezek.”
“Who wasn’t?”
“When I heard another snatch of music the other day up in the tower room. “Night and Day.” I thought that was odd—I mean could a ghost learn other pieces of music after he’s died? I guess they could, since they’re fully capable of serenading and belting out various tunes and playing various instrument, but really, why would Ignatz be playing Cole Porter? That wouldn’t be his style, would it?”
“Stop! You’re making me crazy!”
“Sorry.”
“What are you talking about? I mean, when?”
“Sorry, “ I repeated. “When fifty-gazillion people were exploring that part of the castle before Veronika came in and chased us out the day of Gustav’s death. I heard music. Thought Ignatz was performing for my benefit. Now I’m not so sure it was him. He. Whatever. It’s very possible the musician was your friend Gustav. Only hours after he died.”
Johnny muttered, “Not my friend. Never met him—and am not likely to at this point.” He closed his eyes.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing. Just—a thought. I’ll let it ruminate before I open my mouth with theories.”
“Oh. Fine. Be that way. I’ve just bared my ghost-listening ramblings and you’re getting cryptic.”
He smiled. “Yep. I’ll try and tell you later when I won’t sound like a lunatic although you’re the one who’d actually believe me. Something that happened the day I met you. Before the slide from the tree.” Then he narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re not leaving, are you.” It was not a question. “Damn it, Abby, what happens when someone in this crowd figures out you’re in concert with Ignatz Jezek—so to speak—and determines Jezek is telling his new best friend where to find the flute? Can we say danger?”
I paused, then dove in. “Johnny, while a murder is awful and frightening and just wrong, and you, me and Shay are doubtless in deep doo-doo from some villainous creep, do you realize it’s possible we could find out what happened to not just Ignatz Jezek but to the recent victim of what seems to be the curse of Kouzlo Noc?”
Johnny looked grim. “I’m better with the ‘we’ but can you at least agree that you and Shay you need to stay together—or around me—as much as possible when you’re inside the castle? Or on the grounds for that matter.”
I pondered this sensible suggestion. “ Hell yeah. Shay and I aren’t ready to meet The Almighty face to face.. And while we can act tough, there’s some major chicken bones within so I never have a problem wanting to stick close to you.” I tried to smile. “Especially since I don’t have the brothers Marricino and their ancient Sicilian friends from lower Manhattan here to play bodyguard. Nope. It’s hip to hip—Abby and Johnny. But I do wish you’d let the rest of the Kouzlo Noc crowd in on our one-day impending vows so we could get those hips a bit closer.”
He leaned over and kissed me. “You’re a pain, but I love you. Sadly, with what’s been happening it’s safer for them to think we met the first day you were at Kouzlo Noc. Safer for you. I’ve been sure of that since the day I came sliding down the tree to see your perky little face staring up at me. Corbin and Franz are very aware I’ve been touring the castle and I’d prefer they didn’t add you to their suspect list of fellow treasure hunters.” His words mingled with the sounds of the Astronomical Clock—only blocks away from where we were sitting—announcing to all of Prague it was now nine.
“Oh nuts! Shay and I were supposed to meet at the hotel lobby at nine. We’re off to the castle. She’s Miss Punctuality to the minute. Talk about whuppin’ ass.”
“Relax. I told her I was going to talk to you if I had to kidnap you to make you listen.”
I grabbed my bag from the floor under my feet. “All the same, I guess I’d better hunt her down. If I don’t get back and give her the whole scoop on that dangerous criminal, Johnny Gerard, and Fred and Ginger the lion twins, she’ll never let me loose again to unearth truths of any consequence.”
Chapter 18
The pleasant breeze that had bathed Prague in a balmy glow last night when Shay and I came dragging in from the club, then remained this early morning when Johnny treated me to breakfast and confidences, had this late morning become demonic chilly winds forcing temperatures to fall at a rapid rate. Shay and I stood in front of the dragon doorknockers at Kouzlo Noc and shivered while we waited for someone to let us in.
“Why is Prague freezing in March? It’s flippin’ damn cold! Why didn’t we turn back about an hour ago when we saw snow falling in cute little flakes? Why didn’t Bambi choose someplace like Florida which has never seen white flakes outside of dandruff?” Shay whined.
“Because Gothic novels do not lend themselves to Miami. That’s why. Which reminds me. Did you ever settle on a real title?”
Her expression became impish. “What? You didn’t buy the Naked Mistress of Whatever I threw out?”
“In a word—no. You’re won’t sabotage what could be a terrific film by naming it something that will end up on online porn sites. And even if you were, Bambi would be flying in from India to whip your butt. Hopefully after sharing fresh-made samosa with the location scout—moi.”
“Good reasons all. Actually, I’m going with Silhouette Tower. Short, sweet. Has that Gothic feel. Doesn’t scream ‘chick flick’. Could be horror. Could be romance. Could be suspense. I like it.”
“Little too modern for you?”
“Just a tad. Which reminds me, how are we supposed to have a boat chase down the Vltava in this epic film? I’m fairly certain recreational motorboats were invented back in 1860 something. A paddle-boat chase doesn’t have quite the same quality of suspense—and that’s all I see available for tourists.”
Shay pulled the bell rope again. “They didn’t have rock music either but Mitchell has some major crankin’ tunes in mind. Be open-minded.”
“When am I ever not?” I got brave and grabbed one of the demonic dragons then let its head rattle against the door. “Damn. What’s the deal here? Freeze the poor movie people so they’ll learn a lesson and not prowl around the castle hunting for the family ghost?”
As if she’d been waiting to hear me make that statement, Veronika suddenly yanked open the door and waved us in. “I am so sorry to leave you in the cold. But we were watching the tuning man with the harpsichord and we did not hear the door.”
Both Shay and I stood in stunned silence. Tuning man? Was Gustav the ghost playing with tuning forks from beyond?
Veronika saw our expressions. “We haf good friend from Prague who tells us he hass boy who needs work. Many people not keep music instruments in repair yet he hass problem earning living because people not care. But we are happy to tell him that we haf money to pay him for making harpsichord sound pretty again. Thanks to Mees Martin.” Her eyes clouded for a moment. “I only wish….”
“We know,” I quickly interjected before my own eyes began churning out the tears.
Veronika led us to the ballroom where, sure enough, a pony-tailed young man wearing round-rimmed wire glasses was tinkering with the strings of the antique piece with an expression approaching ecstasy on his handsome face. The other Headlights company members, namely Franz, Lily and Mitchell, watched him work with overly intense interest. Creepy.