The Devil's Opera(165)
Normally it would have taken Marla somewhat longer than that, but since she would be putting on stage makeup at the opera house and arranging her hair to match her costumes in the performance, she had just thrown on a shirt and her jeans.
“Ready to go?” Franz asked.
“Ready,” Marla replied, pulling a pair of brown leather gloves out of her coat pockets.
“What happened to your other gloves?” Franz asked, opening the door for her.
“I guess I’ve lost them. I thought I left them at the opera house, but when I went back to look for them the next day, they weren’t there.”
“Too bad. I was just getting used to pink, purple and green all in the same knit.”
Franz ducked as Marla swung at him.
* * *
Gotthilf was already gone the next morning when Simon came down to the eating room. Ursula and Margarethe were there; Ursula sitting quietly picking at a roll, Margarethe chattering about something.
“I’m going to go look for Hans,” he announced baldly. “I’ll be home when I find him.” He turned to leave. His last sight was of Ursula sitting with a forlorn look on her face.
* * *
Byron and Gotthilf were back in the captain’s conference room. The mayor had come to them, rather than making them do the walking.
“So,” Gericke said when they finished their recital. “Four dead men, and you suspect Master Schardius on the basis of the word of a dock worker?”
When put that way, it did sound weak, Gotthilf had to acknowledge to himself.
“That, and some very strong instinct,” Byron said. His voice was firm.
“Instinct,” Gericke said flatly.
Neither Byron nor Gotthilf responded to that.
Gericke sat back in his chair. Nothing was said for a long moment, then he sighed.
“Your ‘instinct’ has proven right before,” the mayor acknowledged. “I cannot ignore that. But if you are wrong…if Master Schardius is indeed blameless, as he will protest, then your careers will be ended, and likely mine as well, and he will crush us all in court for slander. How certain are you of this?”
“Very,” Byron said. Gotthilf backed him with a firm nod.
Gericke sighed again.
“All right, continue, but God help us all if you’re wrong. What more do you need?”
Gotthilf pulled a couple of forms from his folder. “Search warrants, Mayor, for his residence and place of business. In duplicate.”
“Ah,” Gericke said. “I must change hats, as you up-timers would say, and be Magistrate Gericke for the next few moments.
Captain Reilly passed a ball-point pen to the mayor, and a minute later Gotthilf had one set of the forms in his folder and was folding the other set to go in his jacket.
“You’d better be right,” the captain said as he followed the mayor out of the conference room.
* * *
Ciclope staggered out of his rooming house. He cursed himself for drinking so much ale the night before.
Today was the day, he decided. Today he would take down the target of Herr Schmidt’s fear, earn his fee, and leave this forsaken city. He hungered for Venice, and it was time to leave.
* * *
Andreas Schardius frowned. The doors to the warehouse portion of the factorage were closed. He stormed through the doors of the office. “Why is the warehouse not open?” he demanded of his secretary.
That worthy shrugged, and said, “Herr Mann has not arrived, nor have any of the other warehouse workers. We felt it was best to leave it closed up until someone arrived to take charge.”
“Hummph,” Schardius snorted. “Did Ernst not say something about being late? Do you know anything about why he might be late?”
“Herr Mann said nothing to us, and he was still here last night when we left. But it might have something to do with the deaths.”
“Deaths?” That word stopped Schardius in mid-tirade.
“Yah. The Polizei came yesterday, and told him that some of our warehouse workers were dead, killed in a fight. He and the others left right after that.”
Schardius’ mind churned at that revelation. A couple of things became clear: Ernst was seeking Metzger, and Metzger was not going to come easily. And that was probably why he and his men were still not here this morning; they were still looking for Metzger. So; mystery solved.
“Carry on,” Schardius ordered. “Notify our customers that there won’t be any deliveries today. Check the arrival schedule; I don’t believe we have a barge coming in today, but make sure. Tell Ernst to notify me immediately when he appears. He’ll know where I am.”
* * *
Gotthilf looked around at the bodies. “It’s almost like a slaughter house,” he muttered.