“Thanks, Johnny.”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just continued his task of keeping the room warm for the hours left this night. Finally, he sat down on the floor next to me and took my hands in his. “It hit me today that you hear music when spirits sing it. I understand that even though I’m getting nothing but silence. Abby, I hear the music in your soul because I can feel it. I have since the day I first met you. Whether that music is light and airy or dark and heavy. Today, that music is edgy and not in a heavy-metal rock band crashing boundaries kind of way. I’ve personally been getting more and more edgy and instinctively knowing that edginess isn’t coming from the events—awful as they’ve been. It’s coming from you because you’re absolutely terrified and you’re trying not to let yourself even become aware of it.”
I couldn’t say anything for a few minutes. I closed my eyes and focused on my feelings—hard as that was. I’m not the greatest with tuning into my emotions. It’s easier for me to shrug off problems, easier for me to ignore them than to confront them. But tonight those feelings were pouring through me. They weren’t pleasant. But Johnny felt them right along with me.
I laid my hand over his. “You’re right. I’m absolutely terrifed. There. I’ve said it. Do I feel better? Hell, no.”
He hugged me. “Would you like to hear the fact that I’m not exactly oozing with manly manliness and mucho macho toughness right now either? There are really strange things going on at this castle. I’m feeling—uh—zamzodden.”
“Say what? Zamzodden? What the hell is that?”
“Literally, ‘half-boiled.’ It’s a perfectly lovely, very old Anglo-Saxon term pulled from Latin verbiage that I only yank out of my thesaurus when I have no other words. And it’s a great description. Me. Like a soggy pudding.”
“How do you know this stuff?”
His turn to tease. “I taught school, remember? I picked up all sorts of marvelously useless trivia that has stuck with me ever since, not to mention I had a marvelous education.”
“Yes, but old English terminology is not a required course, if I remember correctly from my days with nuns who blanched when they heard the name Chaucer.”
“It is.”
“What is?”
“Required.”
“It isn’t– wait—we’re doing it again.” I took a deep breath. “Where is it required?”
“I went to an all boys’ school in Massachusetts for exactly one year of my secondary education. Long story about how and why and not relevant. Anyway, we learned art history, English Literature, and when and how words that are now common dropped into the English language. We learned ballroom dance, lacrosse, and curling. Very eclectic education. Sadly, no decent theatre program so I wasn’t thrilled.”
“Curling? You learned curling? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“Dang. Johnny Gerard knows curling. Holy Caledonia. I only thought drunken Scotsmen and intense Canadians even knew of the sport. Although, recently, it has crept into the regular way-into-late-night broadcasts of the Sports Channel. Shay and I placed bets on the winner last Olympics. You’d just taken off for Kenya so you didn’t get to particpate in the tv parties that were more lively than the events. Very entertaining. We sipped tea and munched scones with cream cheese pretending it’s clotted cream and we speak in thick brogues yelling, ‘verra gude! Ye nailed that shot, ye wee bastard!’”
He smiled. “So, we’re avoiding the real subject? We’re not going to talk about being scared?”
“No. We’re not. We’re tabling that discussion until at least tomorrow. I have faced my fear and I know it exists. That’s enough angst for one night.”
I snuggled down into the wealth of blankets, and added, “But if you care to curl up with the terrified lady, she won’t object ‘e’en a wee bit.’ ”
Chapter 26
I awoke to the sound of screaming. For a moment I thought I was reliving yesterday’s events, then realized this was real and not a playback. Johnny sat up beside me.
“What the hell?”
“It’s Veronika. Sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Let’s haul.”
He stood, then tossed a jacket to me. The fire had burned down to ashes only and it was now chilly in the sitting room. Especially since I was now separated from the nice hot Gerard body that had been snuggled up against mine. We’d stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for the few hours of night that had been left by the time Aura Lee had traipsed off into the blizzard. Oh, nothing I couldn’t tell Sister Mary Matrimony at my old high school. No high-impact aerobic activities. Unfortunately. Just sharing warmth and comfort and a badly needed feeling of safety. Very nice indeed. I’d missed him more than I cared to admit those rotten few months he’d been out of the country.
Johnny and I raced through the ballroom and on into the kitchen. No one was there. The screams morphed into keening. The sound was coming from the back staircase; the same set of stairs that we’d taken yesterday when Johnny had shown me the mural. We quickly headed that way.
Veronika knelt on the floor, rocking and sobbing and moaning as she stared at the body of her sister, Marta, who lay in a crumpled heap at the very bottom of the stairs.
We heard voices and fast footsteps. The rest of the group who’d spent the night in the castle had followed the sounds of Veronika’s distress and were now crowding in just behind me. Johnny immediately turned around and held up his hand in a classic “Halt” pose.”
“Don’t anyone touch her. Just stay back there for a second.”
Everyone obeyed. The tone of his voice would allow for nothing else. He walked over to Veronika and Marta and knelt on the floor, reaching his hand out and placing it on Marta’s neck. He released his breath in one big ‘Whew.’
“Sweet Jesus. She’s alive. I’ve got a pulse here. It’s not terrific and she’s definitely not conscious, but she’s alive.”
Utterances of “Oh, thank God!” were heard from Jozef and Fritz. Lily continued to stare in silence while Franz and Mitchell and Shay stepped forward toward Johnny. Corbin turned and walked back into the kitchen yelling, “Are the phones back up? I’ll try the one in here.”
Fritz leaned over and helped Veronika to her feet. Her face was set in horror and her eyes were glassy. He murmured, “Veronika. Marta’s alive. Do you understand that? We’ve got to get help but she’s not dead. Do you hear me? She is not dead. Not like Trina. Not like my brother.”
“Help,” Veronika whispered. “Yes. There must be help.” She looked at me. “Is polici still here?”
Then the import of Fritz’s words hit. “Brother?” Veronika began to cry again. “Iss brother the piano tuner? Ach, no.”
Fritz nodded while every last man and woman gathered in the hall stared at him.
“Yes. Gustav. He was the brother closest to me in age. And he came to Kouzlo Noc and he died.”
Veronika buried her face in her hands. “I am so, so very sorry. He should not have died. He worked good and he wass in north tower to look for a book for me. I now am of belief he did not fall. He was pushed. Like Trina was pushed into moat. Like Marta pushed down stairs.”
For a moment no one knew what to say. The only thought spining through my brain was “someone here is a killer.” It was vital to discover who. It was also vital to get help for Marta.
I turned my focus back to Veronika’s question about the police. “Madam D, the police left early last night. Um. You had already gone upstairs and you didn’t hear them leave.” With Trina’s body carried out in a bag, my mind screamed, but I didn’t say those words. “Corbin has gone to see if any of the landline phones work. Everybody? We need to focus here and figure out how to get Marta to a hospital. We can deal with the who, how and whys later.”
Johnny nodded with me, then added, in a tone of pure steel, “And we will.”
I turned to Shay, who began to gently lead Veronika away from her sister’s pale frame. “Shay? Were you able to recha
rge your cell last night? I wonder if we can call out if the regular phones aren’t back on line?”
She shook her head. “There was a major power outage. Lasted from about one in morning on. I was going to plug the cell in after Auraliah Lee left but I forgot and then when I remembered there was no power for the adaptor.”
I glanced around. No power was still the rule of the day. I’d thought the blizzard had stopped and assumed we now had electricity, but but I’d been wrong on both counts. The short break we’d experienced in the snow last night had only served to recharge the strength of the blizzard this morning. No cheery lights blazed in Kouzlo Noc.
Corbin came back inside the stairwell. “Kitchen power is out, too, so the kitchen phone is not on.”
“Let’s check the rest of the house… I mean, castle.” I suggested. “Even if none of the phones work, there could be one power source to plug in a cell.” My mind suddenly flashed on Jozef’s arrival early yesterday. “Wait! Duh. There are cars outside. One of them’s bound to have a charger somewhere.”
Franz, Mitchell and Corbin all headed back through the kitchen toward the door that led closest to what passed for a garage. The boathouse. Johnny was still kneeling next to Marta, cautiously feeling for broken bones while trying not to move her. He looked up at me.
“She needs a blanket, Abby. Or two or more. She’s really cold and I’m sure she‘s in shock.”
Shay and I raced back toward the sitting room and gathered up the bedding I’d used last night. Lily stayed in the kitchen with Veronika, asking her where the cups were for tea and coffee, since it was apparent we were all going to need something hot soon. Bless gas stoves.
We’d barely made it back to the stairwell when the guys who’d gone to check the cars joined us.
Franz looked disgusted. “I cannot believe this. The cars are dead. The batteries are too. In Corbin’ s Jeep. In the car that Lily’s friends loaned to her. She and I were in that one. But even in the motorcycle that Fritz was riding there is no power.”
Shay brightened. “Fritz drives a cycle? Cool.”
“Hush.” I told her quietly. “You can drool later. And remember, this is a man who lost his brother a few days ago. Not to mention there’s a certain baseball player back in Manhattan who may be acting like an ass but as far as I know has been nothing less than faithful.”
She nodded serenely and ignored my less-than-subtle chiding. She addressed Franz. “So you’re saying the car chargers not only are too dead for a cell phone charge but the cars themselves won’t start? Did I get that right?”
“Yes.”
I stood. “Wait. How did Jozef get here yesterday? Didn’t he have a car? Johnny, what about you?”
“I came out on the tram, then walked although it was getting pretty nasty. I’m pretty sure that’s how Jozef got here. He doesn’t own a car. So that’s a bust. Damn. Marta’s got to get some help. I’m no doctor but I’m scared she could have internal injuries. We can’t just wait around for the power to come back on or for the roads to clear.”
For just a second I had to force back a rising fit of hysterical giggles. Johnny had stated, “Not a doctor.” Someone had once made the comment that everyone on a soap is either a cop or a doctor. Johnny had dived into more occupations as cop Gregory Noble than a reincarnation trainee but the one we needed hadn’t been written into his scripts.
I was wrong. Johnny glanced up and caught my eye. “However, that character you love so well did do a stint as a medic in the Navy and I did do my research. So I’m not totally useless.”
I nearly rolled my eyes in sheer disbelief over the myriad of junk Johnny’d learned doing Endless Time. But this was good. Any kind of medical training should help.
Franz added, “I can ski. Downhill, not cross-country, but that should make no difference. If Veronika has skis?”
Veronika had entered the now crowded stairwell to hear Franz question. “No. No skis.”
She surveyed the people who were helpless to aid her sister. And her eye fell on me. A curious gleam of hope appeared. “Abb-ee?”
I crossed to her and put my arms around her. “What can I do?”
“You can ride. Horses.”
“What?”
“Yes. You are from Texas, no? I overhear you talk last night about El Paso when you try and cheer everyone up so no one cries too much.”
“Uh—yeah, I’m from Texas but not everyone from Texas rides.” I pursed my lips. “I did learn a bit during my short stint on the soap opera and ages ago one summer. But I mean ‘a bit.’ Nothing like—well—Johnny. (Who needed to stay with Marta.) I haven’t noticed any horses around here, though. Not to mention there’s a major blizzard going out there which is not great for visibility for rider nor horse.”
“But there iss horse at neighbor down the hill. He iss gone for months and Marta and Trina,” her voice paused then she continued with a definite catch in her throat, “my sisters and I—we take care of horse for him. Did you pass by barn on way up here yesterday?”
I tried to recall seeing anything resembling a barn. My brain wouldn’t focus. Veronika took my hand. “No matter. I tell you how to reach barn and you find it and you ride to Prague and you bring back help for Marta, yes?”
The fact that snow was still falling at a furious pace didn’t seem to bother Veronika. The fact that Prague was a good forty-minute trip in nice weather in a great car didn’t seem to have penetrated her thoughts. The fact that I’d never ridden a horse through a snowstorm didn’t faze her belief that I could do it. Abby the Super Equestrian. I could see it in her eyes. Naturally, I agreed to try.
At least six different voices—all from real human sources—began bitching at me not to even consider attempting such a crazy stunt. I’d never make it. The horse would bolt in the storm and the two of us would be lost. Even if I did manage to find my way to Prague, it would be too late to help Marta. And on and on.
They were all doubtless right. It was insane, foolhardy, and probably just damn stupid. I looked at Veronika’s face. Faith shown through her eyes as though she’d just witnessed St. Agnes personally conduct the beginning of the Velvet Revolution. I looked at Shay, who gave me a thumbs up. And I looked at Johnny who could do everything, including ride a horse far better than I could even imagine, but had to stay here for many reasons, not the least being he had some medical training and could help Marta—and guard her. It was up to me and for once in my life I was going to do something brave.
It was funny. Once I’d made that decision, the fear that had been smothering me for the last two days or more disappeared. It could well come back in a day, an hour, or a heartbeat, but for now that fear had been replaced by a tense excitement that told me, ‘yes,’ I needed to stay cautious, but I also needed to get on that horse and ride.
Chapter 27
Veronika and Jozef managed to walk with me the half-mile or so to the barn where a horse named Yankee Doodle was standing up taking a nap. At first the entire crowd had asked to make the trip, but someone needed to stay with Marta. I’d stared at Johnny and tried a little silent communication. My message came through. He and Shay were the annointed bodyguards. They had to keep her warm and dry and be there when—if—she awoke. Keep her safe and secure.
I knew and he knew and Shay knew and damn well everyone knew that Marta hadn’t gotten up in the night for a little after-séance snack, then tumbled down those stairs. To begin with, her bedroom was in another wing and the kitchen was on the main floor so there was no reason for her to have been gallivanting around in either the east or north wings. Someone had pushed her. Or coshed her at the bottom of the stairs then made it look as though she’d fallen.
Shay needed to stay to guard Johnny. His attention had to be focused on Marta, which cast Shay in the role of watcher. Just in case someone decided to come sneaking in and cosh Johnny.
I wanted to scream, “Look, one of you is a stinking murderer so it’s best that everyone stay to keep an eye on everyone else” but I
kept quiet for fear my words would just make the situation worse.
I went the diplomacy route. “There’s no need for y’all to have to go tromping out in this snow to provide me an escort service. If Veronika can just show me the barn, I’ll be fine. Stay inside. Drink coffee. Keep warm.”
Jozef offered to walk with us and I agreed. His warm and reassuring presence would help me quell the rising terror that was just at the surface of my emotions. Yankee Doodle would not be happy to meet a new rider who happened to be quaking in her sneakers. A very new rider. The five or so lessons in Colorado six years ago when I did the show Will Rogers Follies for summer stock had not exactly produced a champion Abby and the three extra lessons for “Vanessa Manilow” had mainly been trotting around Central Park at a pace of about two miles per hour. I smiled to myself, musing that I could have used Auraliah Lee’s nice equestrian gear today to reassure the horse I knew what I was doing. Horses sense fear and they don’t react well to it. They damn sure don’t bond with a spooked rider. If I jumped on the saddle without calming down, Yankee Doodle would have every right to toss me on my butt before we left the barn.
I was provided with a new outfit for my undertaking, dredged up from various closets and suitcases in Kouzlo Noc. Not up to the eccentric Aura Lee’s standards, but practical. An overly large black turtleneck, my own black jeans and sneakers, a black woolen scarf and black cap. I looked like one of the Klezmer Volny Rabin nursing a sore throat.
The walk, which should have taken about ten minutes, stretched to forty. The blizzard conditions had subsided, but snow was still falling and the ground was icy so the three of us werer forced to tread slowly and carefully in order to stay upright. And the wind striking against us had other ideas about that position. Skis were a nice option, but if the Duskovas had owned a pair then Franz or Fritz, who’d also volunteered the information that he was a racer would now be out here schussing or slaloming or double poling or shoveling. Heck, Johnny, as Gregory Noble, had gone undercover for a few episodes to play one of those athletes in the Winter Olympics who ski and shoot. If provided with the correct gear, he’d’ve been to Prague and back with the cavalry by now.
Aria in Ice Page 19
