Aria in Ice

by Flo Fitzpatrick

  Veronika made strained introductions. We were all reminded of the last young man who came to tune a Duskova keyboard and met a violent death. “Thees is Mr. Frederick Romberg. From Vienna but now living in Prague. He fixes harpsichord good for us. He arrives this morning early to help.”

  I’d relayed Johnny’s warning to Shay about murderers roaming the castle, but from the way she reacted now, one would suppose she’d been kept completely in the dark about any danger at any time. She peered into the face of the man hiding under the harpsichord. “Yo! Fritz. Good to meet you. And you’re saving our behinds here by making that old instrument sing. Did Veronika tell you about the movie?” Shay turned to the others. “That reminds me, did I tell you we settled on a name? Yep. Silhouette Tower. Now, Franz is still Count Zilania but Lily? You’re neither Honoria nor Kelsey. I had to get creative here. So the new name for your character is Constanze.”

  I blinked. My musical biography knowledge isn’t all that great but I could swear that Constanze was the name of Mozart’s wife. Trust Shay to stir the pot just a bit.

  I didn’t want to make Shay preen any more than she already was, but I did love Constanze as the name for the heroine of Silhouette Tower. A touch of Bavaria mixed with sweetness. And no one was blanching, gasping or fainting at the sound, so either I was wrong and Constanze had nothing to do with Mozart, or people were acting casual about the coincidence, or maybe they knew and just couldn’t see where it mattered in the scheme of flutes, treasure and death. I was going with the latter since I also wasn’t sure if it meant anything at all.

  “It’s good, Shay.” I pursed my lips. “Of course, after ‘Kelsey’ anything would make better sense for this period in history.”

  Fritz Romberg looked up from underneath the harpsichord. He held a tuning fork in one hand. “Madam Duskova tells me you are doing a film? With music?”

  I let Shay answer. She loves sensitive, nerdy guys. Since she was still mad at Fuji, her boyfriend who’d gone a bit star-crazy when he became the starting pitcher for the Yankees she was on the prowl for fresh meat. She now plopped down on the floor next to the piano tuner and stated, “Yes, indeed, we’re shooting a film. The Duskovas have been kind enough to rent us the castle. It’s a musical version of a Gothic romance. Mostly rock music but Mitchell does has some lighter, more classical pieces, too. It’s going to be utterly marvelous.”

  Fritz’ English was precise. He shyly asked, “Do you perhaps need a harpsichordist to play this wonderful old instrument once I am finished with tuning?”

  I brightened and Shay looked like she was going to dance a gig on the harpsichord itself. I answered for our director. “Oh hell, yeah! That would be fantastic! A harpsichord is beyond perfect for this whole flick. Sassh-ay, any comments?”

  Shay’s head nodded vigorously. “I love it. You’re in, Mr. Romberg. Payment to be arranged later but I promise it will keep you in tuning forks for many years.”

  “Thank you. Sash-ay? Is that right?”

  I chuckled. “It’s Shay, but I occasionally annoy her by reminding her it could be worse.”

  Shay took over without pausing to bash my head in. “Yes, it’s Shay. I don’t own Headlights Productions but I’m in control of this project. I’ve wanted to do something with this book since Abs and I read it a gazillion years ago before we even knew one another. You don’t mind if I call you Fritz, do you?”

  He bowed. As much as anyone could who was curled under a harpsichord plucking strings with a tuning fork glued to his ear.

  “Fritz is fine.” He looked at me with blatant curiosity. “Abs. That is not a common name, no?”

  I shook my head. “It’s Abby. Shay is being a toad.”

  “Ah. Well, nice to meet you Abby. That is a prettier name than a nickname for body crunches. I like it. And I am very pleased that you and Shay will let me play for your film. It is hard to find work as a musician and as a tuner here in Prague, although it is a very musical city.”

  Shay had been waiting impatiently for a chance to chime in. “Sorry. About the work, that is—not the city. I love it. Great history of music. Like I’m telling you something new?”

  They were in perfect sync. Within seconds, Shay was under the durn harpsichord talking to Fritz like they’d been hooked up for years. I headed off to the sitting room to plunk in front of the fireplace and make notes as to where I thought various scenes for the film needed to be set.

  The doorbell (or did Veronika call it a doorpull?) rang. Or sounded. Or chimed. Or…I had no words for a bell pull that played Kyrie Eleison from a master composer’s Requiem Mass, other than ‘cool.’ I checked the clock on the mantle in the sitting room. Three in the afternoon. I’d been in this room for three hours. I had no idea where Shay was. Presumably she was following Fritz through the merry romp of twanging strings on instruments. I had ten pages worth of notes. A great start.

  I got up to find out where the others were and what they were doing—and ran smack into a vision.

  I could see Trina, draped in the patterned quilt I’d been so enamored with in that tiny bedroom Veronika had shown me my first day at Kouzlo Noc. Trina wasn’t sleeping though. Trina looked cold. Trina looked white. Trina wasn’t moving.

  I nearly started screaming. I ran out of the sitting room in time to see Marta heading for the back door. Veronika was engaged in a heavy conversation with Franz. Shay and Fritz were still under the harpsichord. Three hours seemed a bit lengthy for master tuners and I had to bite back sarcastically inquiring as to whether work was actually getting done or they’d used the privacy for a long autumn nap or another pursuit more—in Shay’s words—aerobic. Lily and Franz were in a far corner of the ballroom, heads deep into a script. I assumed it was for Silhouette Tower. Shay is extremely efficient even when she’s going after a gorgeous male. She’d had copies of the script made the minute she took on the project.

  Trina was nowhere in sight, so Veronika and Marta were pulling double duty as hostesses and doorwomen. I prayed my vision was wrong. I knew it wasn’t.

  A minute later, Johnny and Corbin made a grand entrance into the ballroom with Marta. The men did not look happy. They were both shaking snow from bare heads and light jackets. Wet gloves were peeled off and tossed without formalities onto the marble coffin. Just looking at the pair was making me freeze. I tried to forget what had sailed into my mind.

  Johnny took a few large strides to end up next to me and the harpischord. I pounded on the top and Fritz and Shay poked their heads out. I performed the introductions bit for Fritz, then asked, quietly, if Johnny and Corbin had been arguing.

  “No. Why?”

  “Well, y’all looked less than pleased when you arrived.”

  “Oh. It’s not him. It’s Mother Nature. How long have you been here?”

  “Four hours. What’s up?”

  “Not up. Down. As in falling. As in snow. Lots of snow. Can we say ‘blizzard’?”

  “You’re kidding. It was just a few breezy flakes when Shay and I ventured out from Prague but not blizzard conditions. This is weird. But kinda cool.”

  “More than cool. Downright cold. The temperature has probably dropped a good sixty degrees since this morning. Corbin can’t work outside anymore so he’s ticked. I don’t really care since the mural is upstairs, but he was suggesting that we form a grave- digging detail to help him today—which I’m extremely not into.”

  Fritz was following this with a rapt, but concerned, expression on his face. “Grave digging? Is that not against the law?”

  Johnny leaned down to add, “Not positive but I hear it’s okay if you’re digging on your property and not opening the last homes of the departed—which he isn’t—he’s mainly looking at headstones and foot markers.”

  Fritz nodded, then ducked back underneath the musical instrument. So did Shay.

  Johnny muttered. “No need to check graves—they’ve all been razed so many times in that cemetery I’m surprised they don’t have W-D 40 to make the hinges open more
smoothly.”

  I winced. “Ouch. That’s a gross thought.”

  “Sorry, Hon. Hell. That cemetery is gross. I love the Duskova sisters, but the Duskovas from the last hundred years or so were not exactly shy when it came to unearthing the dead.”

  Johnny’s volume dropped. “Who’s the kid I’ve just been conversing with? Other than someone named Fritz who seems to be bonding rather nicely with Shay.”

  I kept mine low as well. “New piano tuner. Not to sound cynical but thankfully he’s lasted longer than the last. I’m assuming he’s a total innocent and no one has reason to pitch his body because he’s clueless as to Kouzlo Noc’s history.”

  Wrong on that. Fritz ooched out from under the harpsichord again and stated, “The grave robbers are looking for the body of the flute player who lived here in the summer of 1792. He was murdered, you see, and his flute never found.”

  I sighed and appealed to Johnny. “Why are we trying to keep this a secret when it seems clear the legend of Ignatz Jezek and his flute has gotten more coverage in the world than a pop singer’s sex change?”

  Johnny nodded. “Someone needs to tell Veronika that everyone and his brother knows. Keep her from having a heart attack whenever the words Mozart or flute are mentioned.”

  “What did you say?”

  Veronika stood behind Johnny. She looked like our friend Bambi in the headlights staring into the oncoming car. “Johnny? Iss this true? Who knows about Ignatz Jezek and his flute?”

  He patted her shoulder. “Well, truth is—who doesn’t? It’s a given everyone here is well aware of the whole treasure hunting past of Kouzlo Noc.”

  She evenly stated, “Achh, perhaps that is best. If something iss not so secret perhaps truth will finally emerge and Ignatz will be at peace. But I feel evil, here in my heart.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Someone in this time wants to find the flute and use it for bad purpose. Jozef tells me this last night when he brings books and I believe this. I am ashamed to admit I now belief Gustav died because of this, although I do not understand how or why.”

  I took her hand in mine. “Perhaps if we work together to find out what happened to Ignatz and his flute we can prevent another century of grave robbing and despair here?”

  She smiled. “You are nice. I am sorry I was cold to you when you explore north wing. I was afraid you would not like us and not want to use Kouzlo Noc because of that mens haf been murdered there. And iss not safe.”

  Johnny inhaled. “Say what? Are you telling us that Ignatz was murdered there? In the north wing?”

  She looked horrified. “Oh no! No. Iss not Ignatz I am speaking of although I fear he too wass murdered. I am speaking off stories from centuries. Iss someone who came searching for the flute many many years ago. Before I was born. Before my mother was born. I hear story that soldier came looting through Kouzlo Noc for the treasure. He iss found here—found in north wing. So he destroys room and he was killed by being pushed down stairs. In north wing. But no one in my family says they did it. Iss mystery who kills him. But his body was buried in the old cemetery—the place Corbin works in. He wass given Christian burial by my great-grandfather even though the soldier had come to do evil.” She paused. “And then of course, there wass the tuning man—no—I hope, that is I thought, that wass accident—but I am afraid.”

  Johnny and I exchanged a quick look. Shay was oblivious since she was too entranced watching Fritz play with a tuning fork. I tried to see if anyone else had noticed Veronika’s comment about Gustav, but everyone seemed lost in thoughts of past centuries.

  Any further revelations came to a quick halt when Jozef Jezek suddenly appeared in the ballroom dressed in a wool cape covered with snow.

  Johnny checked his watch. It was close to four-thirty in the afternoon. “Durn. Jozef was supposed to be up at the castle no later than three today. The roads must be awful.”

  Jozef was clearly distressed. The man with the perfect English kept shouting in Czech, letting Veronika translate for him. “We are in snowstorm! That iss very bad.” Her eyes widened in horror as she screamed the rest of his words. “But snow does not matter! There iss body in moat! He says he sees white on body—but moat is blackness! Hear me? There iss body!”

  It was shaping up to be an interesting afternoon at the castle.

  Chapter 19

  Jozef, having shocked everyone in the ballroom, immediately turned and ran toward the hallway which led to the back entrance. Johnny and I took off after the bookseller. Fritz, pale behind his wire-rim specs, held onto the shaking Veronika. Shay, Franz, Corbin and Mitchell sprinted behind Johnny and me. Lily walked quickly over to a stunned Marta, who’d just come in from the kitchen with a huge plate of goodies. She calmly took the tray out the woman’s arms and placed it on the marble coffin. Not the best choice perhaps, but secure and the closest available piece of furniture.

  Jozef had pushed open the huge doors. An incredible whiteness met our eyes. Those tiny flakes from this morning had indeed had become a blinding blizzard. Our coats had been placed neatly on a rack as each person had arrived at various times during the day, but it was obvious that the spring-weight hoodie I’d worn when Shay and I had first arrived this morning was no match for the elements outside. She’d been right. We should have headed back to Prague when we first saw the light fall of snow on our way to the castle.

  Johnny barred Shay and me from trying to join the rescue—or recovery—group. I knew he was shielding us from both the cold and the sight that doubtless awaited outside, but I resented not being able to help. Completely illogical, since aside from dealing with blizzard conditions, I didn’t really want to test my bravery—which currently felt non-existent.

  “Guys, we don’t need the girls to freeze to death. Jozef will guide us and Corbin and Franz and are better equipped to deal with this—and better clothed too. Abby, Shay—just hang tough in here. We’ll get back as fast as we can. Lily, you stay, too.”

  I lost any desire to argue. Shay and Lily nodded in agreement. If we forced our way into joining the guys we’d only end up frozen, useless and a hindrance to the whole operation. So we stayed huddled in our flimsy jackets by the open door and tried to see any movement other than swirls of snow and ice pellets. I kept quiet. I already knew what was about to happen.

  It took them less than two minutes to follow Jozef to the moat and return with the cold lifeless body of Trina Duskova.

  An agonized scream rang out behind us. “Oh, God, no! No! My baby sister. Trina. No! This iss wrong, so wrong!” Fritz hadn’t managed to keep Veronika in the ballroom and she stood by the door staring as Franz and Johnny bullied their way through the snow and gently carried her sister into the castle. Corbin walked beside them, holding what appeared to be a frozen scarf of Trina’s. Marta joined Veronika and the pair clung to each other and sobbed with such despair I felt daggers pierce my heart.

  The men took Trina’s body into the ballroom. The rest of us followed. I held my breath for a moment wondering if they would be crass enough to use the coffin for a resting place. For an instant in my awful imagination I could see teacups swept off in one motion to make room for Trina. I shut my eyes to the vision and was pleased to see that Johnny and Franz were carefully placing the corpse on the sofa. Veronika wouldn’t care about snow melting onto the fragile fabric.

  For a moment we all stood silent, unsure of what to say, or even where to look. I’ve never been around someone who’s just died. Never seen a body that didn’t pass away in a bed surrounded by loved ones. Trina had died, not from illness, but from—what? Drowning? Hypothermia? Alone and doubtless terrified.

  Veronika, Marta and Jozef knelt by the sofa and began to pray. Johnny crossed the room to where Shay and I stood.

  “Johnny? Any idea about what happened? Did she faint? Why on earth was she outside in this storm?”

  He sounded tired. “No clue. She had a light coat on—like she went out much earlier today. Bet Veronika can tell us why. But how she ended up in
the moat is anyone’s guess right now.” He gestured toward my bag, sitting snugly next to the harpsichord. “Do you have your cell? We need to call the Prague police.”

  “What’s wrong with the landline? Is the power out?”

  “Apparently. I tried making a call before Jozef came in and I got nothing.”

  I hurried over to my bag, took out the cell, turned the power on and handed it over. “Looks like the cell towers are working either. My battery is good but I’m not getting a signal.”

  “Great. A stinking snowstorm, a dead body and no communication. It’s going to be a rough night.”

  Corbin and Franz joined us. Corbin pulled a cap off his head and dusted off the flakes of snow as though he were blaming them for Trina’s death. “I’m at a loss here. Such a crazy, freak accident. I’ve known the Duskovas for five years and they’re so close. What on earth was Trina doing outside in this mess?”

  I tapped Johnny’s shoulder. “Guys, I’m going to head up to one of the bedrooms and find something to cover her with. She just looks so… cold there. That can’t be good for Veronika and Marta to see.”

  “I’ll come with you.” This from Shay.

  We took off for the rooms Veronika had shown me only a few days ago. The sweet wedding-patterned quilt I’d seen in one of the bedrooms we’d planned to use for Silhouette Tower would be better served to lay over Trina than as a pretty background piece for the film. I stopped. I’d seen that quilt in my vision only hours before. The damn thing had come true.

  Shay and I managed to stay silent until we hit the bedroom. Then the floodgates opened.

  “Oh damn, Shay. Gothic atmosphere is one thing. Hearing a ghost is cool. But another murder?”

  “Wait! You just jumped a damn large water hole there. Trina was murdered?”

  “I’d give that a yes. With what happened to Gustav? I mean, what is a seventy-odd-year old woman doing wandering out in a snowstorm, in less than warm clothes, near a moat that hasn’t been utilized in the last hundred years or so?”