Trojan Gold - Elizabeth Peters [65]
We hadn’t gone a block from the car before I saw a familiar face. He was as swathed in scarves as all the others; I recognized him by the globular red nose that flashed on and off.
He saw me at the same time. Dropping the arm of the woman who was with him, he came pelting toward me, arms extended, nose glowing. “Vicky! Adored and most elongated of womanly pulchritude”—he made it all one word, which you can do in German, if you aren’t particular about syntax. “You changed your mind! You came!”
He flung his arms around me and burrowed his face into my chest.
It was merely a token gesture, since I was wearing three layers of clothing and my parka had a zipper that closed it tighter than a chastity girdle, but Tony decided to take offense. Twisting a hand in the back of Dieter’s collar, he removed him.
“She came, and I came with her,” he said, biting off the words so that his breath made irritated white puffs in the cold air, like a dragon hiccuping. “Cut it out, Dieter.”
“I saw you,” Dieter admitted. “I hoped you were only a figment of my imagination and that if I ignored you, you would dissolve into air. Where is my nose?”
He fumbled at his face. “Here,” I said, handing it back to him. “Must you, Dieter?”
“Yes. Yes, yes, I must, or go mad with longing….” He began pounding on his chest.
I indicated the woman who stood some distance away, her arms folded and her foot tapping. “Isn’t that Elise?”
“It was Elise,” Dieter admitted. “No doubt it still is Elise. You see, when you turned me down, Vicky, I had to find another companion. Don’t tell Elise I asked you first. She would not like to be second choice.”
Elise did not come rushing to greet us. “Look who I have found,” Dieter cried, presenting us like trophies.
“Yes,” said Elise. “Quite a coincidence that we should all be here again.”
“It certainly is,” said Tony.
“Why do you stand looking hard at one another like two strange dogs?” Dieter asked curiously. “That is no way for old friends to behave. Let us all kiss one another.”
Whereupon he flung his arms around Tony and stood on tiptoe, his lips pursed. Torn between amusement and disgust, Tony finally succumbed to laughter; he pushed Dieter away and reached for Elise. “Good idea, old buddy.”
He had to lift Elise clean off her feet to kiss her; when he put her down she was looking a lot more amiable. Giggling, she linked arms with Tony and leaned against him. “We were about to have dinner. You will join us, won’t you?”
There was no way of getting out of it without rudeness, even if we had wanted to, which neither of us did. The coincidences were falling as thick as the leaves in Vallombrosa.
But as the meal progressed and everyone mellowed with wine and food, I began to wonder whether this particular coincidence might not be legitimate. Dieter was a keen skier, and Garmisch was one of the most popular winter-sports areas in Germany. Elise’s presence surprised me a little, but there again, Dieter’s explanation made sense. They had certainly been friendly the year before; now that her marriage was kaput, she would be looking for entertainment.
I wondered whether Schmidt would approve of her new hairstyle. It was jet-black instead of pink, and arranged in the wispy, wind-blown style fashionable that year. She had lost weight, which in her case was not becoming. The hollows under her cheekbones were as deep as scars, and her wrists looked brittle as dry twigs. She laughed a lot.
Tony wasn’t buying the coincidence, but he didn’t make much progress in his subtle attempt to elicit information. One of his problems was that he had no idea what we were supposed to be looking for; it could have been a painting or a piece of sculpture, a rare coin or an entire frescoed ceiling. He twitched at the mention of Tintoretto and started at Saint Stephen’s Crown. It was the most entertaining aspect of the evening, a lot funnier than Dieter’s dreadful jokes.
During the course of the usual shoptalk and professional gossip, I had a chance to inquire after Rosa and Jan. Elise’s comments