The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [128]
Henning rubbed his forehead. ‘You’ve got to disappear for a while, Stevie. This is too dangerous. I know people who can make you invisible. It will appear that you have simply vanished from the earth. Eventually, whoever is after you will forget about you.’
‘They won’t forget, Henning. You know that as well as I do. I would just be buying time.’
Henning brushed a lock of hair lightly from Stevie’s face. ‘Time is not a bad thing.’ His hand cupped her face.
Stevie didn’t know how to respond. She saw the concern. ‘Thank you, Henning. You are kind, but I’ve thought about it. This is something I can’t run away from. As much as I might like to,’ she added quietly.
Henning looked at her long and hard. ‘So, what do we do?’
Stevie smiled. ‘Pour me a drink and I’ll tell you.’
That evening, reception rang to say the police were on their way up to interview them both.
‘Oh goodness,’ Stevie’s hand shot to her mouth. ‘I completely forgot Doctor Meinetzhagen was going to ring the police. What do we do?’
‘We’ll just tell them the bare facts: drinking coffee by the fire, felt woozy, fell down. They might let it go at that.’
‘Only they know me from the polo.’ Stevie made a face. ‘They’re sure to want to ask a lot more questions—about the Russians and so on. A man was killed, also poisoned by an exotic reptile. Two poisonings in as many days is just too suspicious to pass over. You know how thorough the Swiss are.’
Stevie’s mind ticked frantically. ‘The only thing to do is feign unconsciousness.’
‘I don’t think—’
A knock on the door interrupted Henning’s protest.
Stevie slumped into the pillows, her head hanging loosely to one side, her breathing shallow.
From behind closed eyelids, she heard Henning open the door, then two voices as polite and brisk as a shoe brush. They spoke in Schwiizerdütsch but quickly switched to very correct Hochdeutsch when Henning excused himself, saying his Swiss German was poor.
Henning quickly explained that Fräulein Duveen was heavily sedated and could not be roused—even if this were physically possible— due to strict instructions left him by Herr Doktor which specified in no uncertain terms that the Fräulein’s heart was not to be excited. The sight of two such important-looking policemen, for such a delicate creature, well . . . the officers must imagine . . .
The policemen reassured Henning that they had no intention of unduly disturbing the patient, although the one with the deeper voice did suggest, most respectfully, that perhaps Fräuelein Duveen’s fragility could be overestimated. She had, it must be remembered, last been seen hunting down a would-be assassin on horseback . . .
‘—and most successfully,’ added his partner.
‘Indeed, gentlemen,’ Stevie heard Henning reply in his most elaborate German. ‘However, it is possible to see lions hiding where there are only small, defenceless kittens, wouldn’t you agree?’
Having little idea what Henning was talking about, the policemen merely murmured politely in agreement.
Stevie had to concentrate on her breathing to avoid giggling.
The policemen approached her bed and stood looking at her— Stevie could feel their scrutiny. Henning must have noticed Stevie’s struggle to remain composed and quickly suggested that he was prepared to be most cooperative but that perhaps it might be best to talk downstairs, so as not to disturb the patient.
When the policemen had gone, Stevie picked up the phone and called Doctor Meinetzhagen.
‘Sincere apologies, Herr Doktor, for calling you after hours . . .’
‘Not at all, Fräulein. I am still in surgery. What is it you require?’
‘I have been giving your prognosis a lot of thought,’ Stevie said gravely, ‘and I think I would be foolish to try to rush a recovery. I was thinking a fortnight or so in a sanatorium might ensure I rest properly and don’t overdo it. I tend to be rather high-strung, you see.’
‘A most enlightened idea. I can recommend several