Rendezvous With Danger (3 page)

His guest-house turned out to be a pretty, chocolate-box chalet surrounded by a narrow wooden balcony ablaze with flowers. A few tables were set outside, covered with brightly checked cloths. An apple tree grew at the balcony's edge, and the leaves traced moving patterns on the tables below. There was no sign of any other visitors.

A black cat, who had been sunning himself on the balcony rail, leaped languidly to the ground at our approach and led the way, tail erect, up a couple of wooden steps into the surprisingly large hall. It was refreshingly cool inside. Bare stone slabs paved the floor and in the far corner was a half-mooned desk of dark oak. Behind it sat a girl of nineteen or twenty, in a white blouse and yellow dirndl skirt. As my high-heeled sandals rang metallically on the stone floor she raised her head, and on seeing Stephen, she smiled welcomingly. Her long brown hair was plaited and coiled in a halo round the top of her head. The well-defined brows were swept in smooth arcs over large green eyes, and though she wore no make-up her skin had an enviable lustre. The simple clothes she wore were the perfect foil to her fresh, natural beauty. Mentally re-assessing my own appearance after my scramble down the hillside, I felt I came off badly in comparison.

‘Susan, this is Christina. You'll have no language problem as Christina spent three years in England, first as an au pair, then in the hotel trade. She came here last year when her father opened this guest-house. Christina, this is Susan Carter.'

We shook hands and she smiled shyly.

‘Susan has just had her car stolen,' said Stephen matter-of-factly.

‘No! But that is terrible.' Her expression changed to one of disbelief. ‘ Who would do such a thing? Is there anything I can do to help?'

‘Not really. Someone is reporting it for me at the moment.'

‘How did it happen?'

Briefly I told her about the crash and the two men, finishing with Herr Cliburn's appearance and offer of help.

‘I expect you could do with a drink,' she said practically.

‘An excellent idea.' Stephen looked questioningly at me. ‘ What would you like, Susan? A lager or something a little stronger?'

‘A lager would be fine.'

Christina disappeared through the arched doorway and we walked out to the balcony, sitting at one of the tables beneath the trees. I took off my scarf and put it with my shoulder-bag on the ground. I leaned back, relaxing slightly.

‘I feel as if I'm going to wake in a moment and find it's all a bad dream.'

‘What did actually happen? Were they swerving to avoid an oncoming car?'

‘No, there was nothing else on the road.'

‘Except your Morris.'

‘Except my Morris,' I agreed miserably.

‘I think you'll find Herr Cliburn is right,' said Stephen, as he paused to take the drinks from Christina's tray. ‘ I mean, if the crashed car was their own, they'd hardly leave it like that, would they?'

‘You mean you think the car was stolen?' asked Christina, pulling up a chair.

‘Looks like it,' Stephen said.

‘Whether it was their car or it wasn't they behaved in a most peculiar manner.' I shook my head, mystified. ‘It was as if someone was following them.'

‘You mean because they immediately grabbed your car?'

‘That's one of the things, and also their behaviour when they got out of the car. They both seemed to be in a state of panic, looking back up the road as if they expected the hounds of hell to come galloping round the corner.'

‘And all they got was Stephen,' said Christina, grinning.

I laughed. ‘Yes. They couldn't have been being followed after all. It must have been a good twenty or thirty minutes before he came along and there was no other traffic in all that time.'

A bell rang and Christina sighed. ‘Just when it is getting interesting. I shan't be long.' Unwillingly she rose from the table and disappeared inside the guest-house.

‘I imagine any signs of panic you saw would be due to the crash,' Stephen said. ‘They were both very lucky men. The car is practically a write-off. An experience like that would unnerve anybody.'

‘I hope they treat my car with a bit more care.'

‘After the shake-up they've just had, they'll be crawling along at thirty miles an hour now.'

‘I hope so,' I said fervently.

‘Trust my intuition. When they've got where they want to go, they'll dump your car like a hot brick. It will be returned to you within hours. You see. The German police are very efficient.'

‘I wouldn't know. I've never had anything to do with them. Do you know Germany well?'

‘Not as well as I'd like to. That's why I'm pottering around here by myself. I've spent a lot of time in Munich this last year or so. I'm in advertising and the head office of our biggest account is there. This time I decided to combine business with pleasure and instead of heading back to London, hired a car and motored down here.'

‘How many more days have you left?' I asked casually.

‘That depends on when your car is returned. I could hardly disappear now, not knowing the outcome, could I?' He glanced at his watch. ‘In fact, it's time we were making tracks for Niedernhall now. If your friend fails to appear, I'll run you straight to the police station myself.'

‘Cross fingers it won't be necessary,' I said, picking up my bag and following him inside, to say goodbye to Christina.

She was busy setting a tray for afternoon tea.

‘Oh, you are not going so soon?' She pushed the tray to one side and hurried across to us. ‘Perhaps Stephen could bring you back later on.'

We strolled out into the brilliant sunshine and she said chattily, slipping her arm through mine, ‘ It's a small world, Susan. Stephen works in Hanover Square, and for eighteen months I worked round the corner at Claridge's, yet we never met. Now in London I could believe it if you'd had your car stolen, but down here, where nothing ever happens …'

‘Stephen thinks the men who took it were joy-riding and that they'll abandon it when they get where they want to go.'

She nodded her head in agreement. ‘I'm sure he's right. You must let me know what happens. Perhaps I can take you on a tour round on my day off.' She snapped her fingers. ‘I'd put a little booklet that I thought might interest you on the reception desk, and I've come out without it.' She paused, making no effort to go back for it herself.

The inference was obvious, and I left them together, going back in the coolness of the foyer for the booklet. Feeling rather a gooseberry, I took my time and as I glanced through the window I saw my assumption had been correct. Christina had wanted to talk to Stephen alone. Her gaiety had left her and she was talking hurriedly, her face anxious. Uncomfortably I strolled back down the wooden steps and across to the car. Christina turned, smiling once more.

‘Yes, that's the right book. It has a whole list of places that most tourists miss. Have a look through and tell me what you think. I do hope you hear good news when you get back.'

She stood, smiling and waving, as we took the Niedernhall road once more.

After a little while, Stephen said, ‘As was no doubt obvious, Christina wanted to speak to me alone.' He paused, changing gear and sweeping round the bend of the road. ‘ She says she spoke to her father about the Herr Cliburn we mentioned, and he tells her there is no one of that name living in Niedernhall that he knows of. She also said,' he added impassively, ‘that her father knows everyone in the district and couldn't possibly be mistaken.'

I sat silently for a while, gazing unseeingly at the vineyards and fruit trees that sped past. I should have gone straight to the police myself, it was what any sensible person would have done, not leave it to a complete stranger to report. Turning to Stephen I said with more confidence than I felt, ‘I'm sure Christina's father can't know
everyone
in Niedernhall.'

He made no effort to banish my doubts.

‘Can he?' I asked tentatively.

‘That, Susan, is what we're going to find out. I'm beginning to think Mr Cliburn was just a little too good to be true.'

There was no answer to that, and I stared moodily at the shining surface of the nearby river, its banks thick with celandines and buttercups. A kingfisher, the sun glinting on its bright blue and emerald plumage, swooped and dived, but I was scarcely aware of it. Even Stephen's presence did nothing to dispel my growing anxiety.

There was a stiff breeze blowing and I pushed my hair out of my eyes and opened my shoulder-bag, reaching for my head-square. It wasn't there. I searched through the bag hastily, then felt in my pockets.

‘What's the matter?'

‘My scarf. I must have left it at Ohringen.'

‘Do you want to go back for it?'

‘No. I'm more worried about the car at the moment.'

‘Don't worry. I'll see to it you're not left without transport,' said Stephen capably, ‘and I'll bring your scarf along next time I see you. What is it like?'

‘Scarlet silk. You can't mistake it. Oh goodness, are we forced to drive this fast?' I asked nervously, as the passing trees merged into a green blur. Stephen obligingly slowed down. We rounded the next bend at a more leisurely fifty miles an hour and he began to tell me of his visit to Wies.

‘It really is incredible, Susan. Quite isolated. You walk through dark forest then suddenly emerge in green meadows and in the middle is the church. Very unobtrusive and ordinary looking. But inside it's fantastic. Baroque gone mad. You must see it before you leave.'

‘Is there a shrine?'

‘Oh yes, that's the reason the church was built. Way back in the early seventeen hundreds a couple of friars made a wooden statue of the Saviour out of fragments of saints' figures. Apparently it was carried round on Good Friday but aroused the faithful to such a degree that it was put away owing to its “ghastly and frightening” expression. A peasant's wife eventually took it and installed it in her farm at Wies, and claimed that, while praying in front of it, she had seen tears on the face. This so-called miracle was the beginning of a rapid rise of pilgrims. By the seventeen forties it was quite famous and lots of people came. The original church at Wies was too small to hold them all and so the present church was built. It really is worth seeing, though I can't promise any tears.'

‘Sounds interesting. Providing I have a car I'll do as you suggest and pay it a visit.'

Ahead of us Niedernhall's church spire pierced the skyline and the afternoon sun shone hotly down on the steep roofs of the surrounding houses, gilding them a rich, deep red. Minutes later we were sliding over the bridge, past the watch-tower and into the main street.

‘Whereabouts are you staying?'

‘Right at the far end of the village. Oh, do be careful, Stephen! We nearly ran over a hen then.'

With a flurry of indignant feathers and a screech of protest the hen headed for the safety of the verge, and we continued through the narrow streets with Stephen giving every feathered jay-walker a toot on his horn.

‘It's the house on the left. The one with all the flowers outside, just before the horses.'

A few yards beyond Frau Schmidt's brightly-painted front door stood two carthorses harnessed to a high-sided cart loaded with wine casks. They looked very festive, with red poppies tucked gaily over each ear and large collars studded with polished brass around their necks. They hardly stirred their tails as Stephen drew up immediately in front of them.

Scarcely waiting for the car to come to a halt, I was out and running through the narrow, dark passage that led from the street to Frau Schmidt's living quarters.

‘Frau Schmidt, has anyone …'

‘So, you are back so soon,' she said to me with a welcoming smile. ‘Vot was the matter, the day it is lovely.'

‘No, it isn't lovely at all. Someone stole my car.'

‘Pardon. I not understand.'

She rose from her chair and reached for a bottle of schnapps, pouring out a glass for herself and handing me another.

‘Now, dat is not right.'

It was obvious that Gunther Cliburn had not been here and that my car had not been returned. I sat down wearily, and said with a descriptive wave of the hand, ‘My car,
wagen,
gone, poof.'

‘Gone. Gone vere? Vat is this gone?'

‘It's been stolen,' I groaned. ‘ What on earth am I going to do?'

She crossed the room, taking my hand in hers uncomprehendingly.

‘Nein, nein, Susan, meine Liebe.'

I managed a smile. ‘Please don't get upset. I must go now. The sooner I see the police the better.'

‘Polizei?'
The lines of worry on her face deepened.

‘I'll explain later, Frau Schmidt. I must go now.'

With less haste than I had entered, I went back to the waiting car. Stephen looked up expectantly and I shook my head.

‘He hasn't been.'

Dejectedly I opened the door and sank into the seat. Stephen looked at his watch, his lips set in a firm line.

‘It's ten to three, Susan. We'll give him until three, then I'll take you to the police station.'

‘It's what I should have done in the first place. It seemed so easy, though, when he said he'd handle it all.'

‘Put not your trust …' began Stephen. Then, realizing that I was really worried, his voice softened. ‘Hey, not so much of the high drama. We'll get the whole thing sorted out. Stop worrying.'

I flushed slightly. ‘ You must think me an awful fool.'

‘Why? For having your car stolen? Don't talk rubbish. Mind you,' he added, ‘ it doesn't happen to everyone.'

I gave a rueful laugh. ‘It's the story of my life. Losing things. I hardly ever came home from school with everything I started out with. You name it and I'd lost it. But not even I thought I'd manage to lose a car.'