The Silver Castle (17 page)

“Ah, the Messieurs Kreuder. How delightful to see you, how kind of you to attend my little collection. And you have brought your sister. How nice.”

“May I introduce Gail Sherbrooke, from London,” said Anton.

I was awarded a gracious smile, a flattering question or two.

“You will all come to my private party this evening, of course,” she went on, adding kindly for Helga’s benefit and mine, “It is to be quite informal. No need to dress up—come just as you are.”

“It’s very good of you to invite us, Germaine,” said Anton.

“I shall be honoured to have you there ... the creators of these glorious fabrics. I hope you’ll think I have done them justice.”

Madame Lafay drifted away to other guests, and soon the show commenced. In silence a tall blond girl stepped out onto the podium, displaying an evening gown of jade green crepe de Chine, with flying panels of the peacocks and pagodas print I had seen in the Kreuder showroom. She paraded, poised and self-confident, spreading her silken wings and looking like some splendid exotic bird. It was a breathtaking beginning.

As the show continued, Helga disparaged the beautiful clothes while Raimund applauded the girls wearing them. A long-legged sun-tanned model was showing off a sexy cat suit when Madame Lafay drifted our way again, and I heard Anton whisper to her, “I wonder if I might use your phone, Germaine? I’d like to ring the mill.”

“But of course,
cheri.
In my office. You know where.”

He returned five minutes later, looking displeased.

“I’ll have to get back right away,” he told Raimund.

“Why, what’s the trouble?”

I knew already that Kreuder’s had been commissioned to produce a replica of some ancient Persian silk cloth for the palace of an oil sheikh, and it appeared that the incorporated gold thread was giving trouble on the loom.

“I’ve had an uneasy feeling ever since this morning that something would go wrong with this job,” Anton said. “That’s why I rang Franz Lemmer.”

“Surely he can handle it himself?” Raimund seemed puzzled. “There’s not much that Franz doesn’t know about silk weaving.”

Anton shook his head. “I’d rather not take the risk. We’re badly behind schedule on this order. If I can get the trouble rectified at once, they can put in some overtime on it tonight.”

“Germaine won’t be any too pleased if we walk out on her show. And don’t forget the party this evening.”

“I’ve already made my apologies to Germaine, but naturally you three must stay on.” He glanced quickly at his watch. “I can just about make the next plane if I hurry. I’m sorry to have to rush away, but there it is.”

I was swept by a sense of desolation that he was going. Just because this day with Anton was suddenly to be cut short, I felt crushed. I wanted to clutch his arm and beg him not to leave us.

He paused in the act of turning away. “What is it, Gail? You’ve gone quite pale.”

“It ... it’s nothing.”

I was pale no longer as colour flooded my face. How cruelly unfair to be caught like this—so totally off my guard—with the sudden discovery that I loved him. I needed desperately to be on my own, to assess the situation coldly and argue it away. Because it was impossible. Unthinkable. His wife and my father in a sordid liaison which had culminated in a double drowning. That it was neither any fault of mine, nor any fault of Anton’s, was an irrelevance. The stark fact lay between us in all its horror.

“I ... I’ve really got to go.”

But still he didn’t move, and a strange expression came into his eyes. He flicked a glance at his brother. “Raimund, take care of Gail, won’t you?”

And then he was gone. I watched him walk away, and the crowded room seemed empty when he’d disappeared. The show continued, but I saw nothing of it. Until Raimund turned to me and said, “There aren’t many women who could get away with a dress like that, Gail, but you’d look fantastic in it.”

I shook myself out of my daze and saw a dark, petite girl modelling a body-hugging creation in red silk jersey. I tried to think of a flip answer, but Helga was looking daggers at me, and I decided it was best to keep silent. Glancing away, I allowed my mind to wander once more, following Anton on each stage of his journey back to Zurich.

The evening party was held in Germaine Lafay’s apartment in a tower block high above the city. I found welcome solitude on a balcony that was scented with hyacinths. I leaned against the wrought-iron balustrade and watched the moon come up over Lake Geneva, drawing a glittering silver finger across the dark water. My throat was thick with tears and I wanted to linger here, away from people, to indulge myself with secret dreams of Anton.

But the growing chill of the April evening finally drove me back inside, and I tried my hardest to chat and look as if I were enjoying myself. I found it easier to cling to Raimund, and he made no objection, seeming rather gratified.

We had to leave quite early to catch the last flight back to Zurich. And from there, because Anton had taken his car from the airport park, we went by taxi. After we’d dropped Helga at her home in Wollishofen, I realised that I’d made a mistake in sticking close to Raimund, it had given him the wrong impression. He moved nearer to me, and slid his arm around my waist.

“Poor Helga, it was tough on her having an attractive girl like you around. It highlighted the contrast.”

I edged away from him. “Don’t be so unkind to your sister.”

“She’s unkind to herself. Helga’s been her own worst enemy for as long as I can remember.”

I tactfully changed the subject. It was a wonderful show this afternoon. You must have felt proud to have so many compliments about Kreuder silks.”

“Maybe. But I felt prouder still of having you with me, Gail.” He turned in the seat so that his face was close to mine, and I felt his breath warm against my cheek. “We make a great pair, don’t we?”

“Oh, stop being silly, Raimund.”

“Silly? You like me, Gail, don’t you?”

“Yes ... but that’s as far as it goes.”

He laughed and said confidently, “Give it time,
Liebes,
just give it time.”

The village was deserted and almost in darkness as we passed through, still a little before midnight. But there were lights on at the Schloss, and Karl came into the hall when we went in. He said he hoped we’d had a pleasant day in Geneva, and asked if we wanted refreshments. Frau Kreuder had retired some time ago, he added, and Herr Anton had also gone to bed.

“No, I don’t think I want anything, thanks,” I said to him. “I think I’ll go straight up myself.”

“So will I,” said Raimund.
“Gute Nacht,
Karl.”

The manservant hesitated, glancing doubtfully at me, then he muttered something to Raimund in an undertone. Raimund asked a sharp question, Karl mumbled a reply. There was another exchange, then Raimund shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to me.

“Is something wrong?” I enquired.

Both men were looking at me uneasily. Raimund made a slight silencing movement with his hand as if to forestall anything Karl might have said.

“It’s just ... something that’s cropped up, Gail.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to be nosey. But from the way you were speaking, it sounded serious.”

Raimund forced a smile, forcing a casualness into his voice. “It’s certainly nothing you need bother about, not tonight. Come on, let’s go upstairs. I’m dog tired.”

As we crossed to the staircase, I was aware that Raimund glanced back to where Karl stood beneath the great pewter lantern, and I sensed the wary look that passed between them. Whatever had happened was no small matter, I knew. I knew too that I was somehow concerned in it.

The mystery was solved next morning by Sigrid, who sent for me after breakfast. In the little room adjoining her bedroom, she motioned me to sit down and moved her wheelchair nearer. Her face was pale and sombre, the eyes deeply shadowed.

“Did you have a good night, Gail?”

“Yes, thank you,” I lied.

“That is what we hoped. Distressing news is always better received in the morning, I think.”

I waited nervously for what was coming. Sigrid lifted her hands a few inches, sketched a small ineffectual gesture, then let them fall back into her lap, as if she sought some way of softening bald facts and could not find it.

“There has been an accident,” she told me. “The boy Willi ...”

I jerked forward in my chair. “What’s happened to Willi?”

“He was knocked down by an
Auto
... a case of hit-and-run. He was found later at the side of the road.”

“Oh no,” I gasped. “Is he badly hurt? Is he in hospital?”

She reached out to me, her fingers touching my cheek in compassion.

“I am afraid that he is dead, Gail. They say he must have died instantly, so he would not have suffered. That, at least, is a blessing.”

The room began to gyrate wildly, and a howling noise deafened my ears. It felt as if I had to shout with all the power of my lungs to make myself heard.

“When did it happen? Where ... ?”

“Last night, at about dusk. Willi was carrying wood for his father, as he often did. It’s a curious thing, Gail, but the accident must have happened quite close to the spot where you yourself were nearly struck by a car the night before last.”

But there was something that Sigrid didn’t realise ... the horribly significant fact that Willi had been with me that previous time. I relived the terrifying moments, and knew now that the driver had
deliberately
aimed at us. It had been his intention to kill. And, twenty-four hours later, he had succeeded. He had claimed his victim—Willi, the deaf-mute boy who had been a witness to that other killing—the murder of my father and Valencienne Kreuder.

It seemed incredible now that I had not grasped this before. Was not murder a hundred times more likely an explanation than that my father should kill himself and the woman he loved for no logical reason? There was a clear motive for murder ...
the anger of a jealous husband.

I heard Sigrid say something, and stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch ...”

“I asked if you were feeling unwell, my dear. We knew you’d be upset. That is why Anton suggested that we left telling you until this morning, and why he asked me to do it ... as gently as possible. It’s a dreadfully sad thing, I know, but you mustn’t allow it to distress you too much, Gail.”

I stared at her, finding it curiously difficult to focus my eyes. “You say that Anton asked you to tell me?”

“Yes. I agreed that it would be kinder this way than for him to stay up and confront you with the news when you arrived back from Geneva.”

Kinder to me—or safer for him? Face to face with me, might not his eyes have betrayed something of the truth? This way, he hoped that I wouldn’t suspect his involvement, and that Willi’s death could be glossed over as an unfortunate accident.

Sigrid was still talking and although I could hear the sound of her voice, anxious, soothing, compassionate, I couldn’t distinguish the words. It was as though the clamour in my head was preventing me from thinking. My brain was numbed, cowering under the weight of damning facts that I couldn’t isolate. I knew only that Anton Kreuder had convicted himself of deliberate, calculated murder.

I had to get away, I had to be alone. I mumbled some vague
excuse to Sigrid, but it only served to increase her concern for me. As I rose and stumbled towards the door she followed me quickly in her chair, trying to prevent me leaving. Suddenly she seemed like an enemy, because her very existence barred the way to my revealing the truth. After Sigrid’s kindness to me, how could I add to her sufferings by announcing to the world that her stepson was a murderer? A murderer three times over.

Sigrid held out her hands to me imploringly. “Gail, my dear, stay here and let us talk.”

“No, no ...” Shaking my head emphatically, I wrenched open the door and ran along the corridor to my own room. Safely inside, I turned the key, knowing that Sigrid would follow me.

A moment later she tapped softly on the door. “Gail, let me in. It will do you no good to upset yourself to this extent.”

I took a deep, juddering breath. “No, please.... I’ll be all right. I just need to be alone for a little while.”

She was unconvinced, worried about me, but finally she went away.

I had imagined that when I was alone I’d be able to marshal my thoughts into an orderly pattern. But my mind remained a chaotic jumble, a thunderstorm of wild flashes and terrifying crashes that seemed to echo back into regions of time gone by.

I stood at the window, clutching the damask curtain, and stared out at the sunlit lake. It looked so calm and peaceful now, but one night in February its dark waters had closed over a man and a woman while their killer had escaped—the whole incident observed by a retarded boy who was bewildered by a world he could not understand.

And Anton had somehow discovered that Willi knew his dreadful secret. The carved boat had probably given him the first clue, and later, he must have visited the chalet again and seen the three crude figures Willi had used in his effort to tell me about the murder. It would have been Anton himself who had taken them away, not Willi at all.

Doubtless Anton was puzzled about why I had not mentioned that Willi had been with me at the time of my near “accident.” Why wasn’t he afraid that I would reveal this fact now and start a trail of suspicion that might lead all the way back to the death of Valencienne and my father? He must feel very confident that he was safe, confident that I could do him no harm by telling what I knew.

But how much, in fact,
did I
know? Only that two nights ago a car had been driven headlong at Willi and myself so that we narrowly escaped death, and that the very next evening, on the same stretch of road, Willi had been killed. It could easily be written off as just a coincidence. What else did I know that would weigh as evidence against the influential Anton Kreuder?

There was only my word for it that Willi had suggested that there had been a second man on the boat when Valencienne and my father had died. I had no evidence to support this, now that the carved figures had disappeared.