Trojan Gold - Elizabeth Peters [49]
The taut muscles under my cheek quivered, and then relaxed. “It wasn’t me,” John squeaked. “Honest, lady.”
“I believe you, darling. If she had approached you, you’d have taken care of the matter by now and left no loose ends dangling.”
“Thank you.”
“Bitte schön.”
“Your hypothesis, though unsubstantiated, is worth considering,” John said. “Where could she have met such a person? No, don’t tell me, let me work it out for myself. At the hotel, obviously. All sorts of people go to hotels. They are known to enjoy skiing and other harmless sports; they eat, drink, and are merry. Perhaps it was a chance encounter (how romantic) that introduced Friedl to the man of her dreams, and while they were being merry she opened her little heart to him. She’s the type that would babble in bed—”
“Unlike me,” I said wryly.
“Quite unlike you. I’ve had a look at the lady, and she lacks your external charms as well as your ability to carry on a witty conversation even under circumstances of considerable distraction…. What was I saying?”
“It wasn’t John Donne, but I liked it. Do go on.”
“That’s enough; I wouldn’t want it to go to your head. We might try to have a look at the hotel register. This hypothetical expert of yours must have visited Bad Steinbach during the spring or summer of last year.”
“She may have met him earlier,” I said. “And remembered him when she learned about the gold….”
John knew every nuance of my voice. He said alertly, “You’ve thought of someone.”
“No. It’s not only unsubstantiated, it’s pure fiction.”
The arm around my shoulders tightened painfully. “Don’t hold out on me, Vicky. I’m willing to collaborate in this little venture of yours, but only if you tell me everything.”
“Old habits die hard,” I said apologetically. “In our past encounters, we’ve been on opposite sides. I’m not accustomed to trusting you.”
The even movement of his breathing did not alter. After a brief, internal struggle, I said, “All right, then. I happen to know of five people—six, including myself—who had at least one of the necessary qualifications, and who were at the hotel last year.”
“I think you may have something there,” John said, when I had concluded the explanation. “While the old gentleman was learning to know—and of course, love—you, Friedl was learning to know someone else, in quite another sense of the word. Later, when the matter of the gold came up, she would think of him—or her?”
“Who’s to know?”
“Who indeed? The encounter needn’t have been heterosexual or even sexual. You say three of the lot have surfaced lately?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t necessarily mean what you think. Suppose Hoffman contacted some of the others, as well as me? You and I know I’m uniquely wonderful, but Hoffman might have decided to check out a number of candidates before settling on one. We don’t know how many copies of that photograph he mailed, or how much information he gave other people. I’m sure I would have received a letter or a phone call if he hadn’t died.”
“Or been murdered.”
I moved uncomfortably. “I thought of that, of course. But much as I abhor the woman, I can’t believe…”
“Always assume the worst; then you are never disappointed.”
“John, I really have to get to work sometime today. Schmidt is sure to come looking for me—”
“Speaking of Schmidt—you don’t mean to involve him in this, do you?”
“I wish I could keep him out of it. Your turning up didn’t help. Schmidt is fascinated by you.”
“I will endeavor to put a lid on my notorious charm when next we meet. Seriously, Vicky. I don’t want to be constantly distracted by having to rescue Schmidt.”