She finally had to stop and draw a breath. She panted for a few seconds, then took a deep sigh and seemed to settle down. She turned to Marla and held out her hands.
“Marla, I have to apologize. I thought Schardius was just a typical producer looking for some thrills. It almost killed me when Byron said he was a stalker type, and he was fixated on you.”
“No one knew, Amber,” Marla replied, detaching herself from her husband and taking the other woman’s hands. “No one could have guessed. I thought he was just a creep; just a watcher.”
“Instead he abducts you,” Frau Amber said, enfolding the younger woman in another embrace.
“I will bear witness to that,” Friedrich spoke up, “assuming they capture him. Plus assault, battery, and threats to kill Frau Marla. The man,” he concluded in a very dry tone of voice as he handed his coat to Frau Marla to hide her oh-so-worse-than-nude attire, “is not sane.”
* * *
Byron pulled out his flashlight. “We don’t have time to look for the light switches. Come on.”
The two of them followed the dim yellow spot as it tracked across the floor. After a few steps, Gotthilf said, “Blood spots.”
“Yep,” Byron replied in a satisfied tone. “If nothing else, we can trail the bastard with that.”
Neither of them spoke more, intent on the task at hand.
* * *
Schardius heard the murmur of voices behind him, looked over his shoulder, and saw the dim little spot of light bobbing toward him down the hallway. His foot struck the first step in the stairs, and he almost fell over. He turned, held his pistol in both hands, and pulled the trigger once.
Bam!
He turned and hurried up the stairs as quickly as he could.
* * *
Amber released the hug and returned Marla to her husband.
“Now to go upstairs and break the news that we have to cancel tonight’s performance.”
Marla broke out of Franz’s embrace and faced them all with her hands on her hips.
“Amber Higham, I don’t care if you are the director, if you think that I’ve come this far and worked this hard on this part to shut down because of something stupid like this, think again! I’m not hurt, and if I don’t do something to lightning rod the mad out of me, I’ll explode. On with the show!”
Behind Marla, Franz had worry in his eyes, but he was smiling. He spotted Friedrich looking at him, and he shrugged and spread his hands in an unmistakable “What are you going to do?” signal.
Amber took a long hard look at Marla. “Well, okay, if you’re sure…”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, except marrying Franz,” Marla replied. “Trust me.”
“Okay,” Amber said after another hard look at Marla. “If you’re that certain, then let’s get upstairs and get this show on the road!”
The sound of a shot from the hallway spurred them on.
* * *
The two detectives ducked to each side of the hall at the flash from the other end of the hall. Byron turned off the flashlight.
“Black powder gun,” Byron said quietly.
“Probably H and K six-shooter,” Gotthilf replied. “Sounded like a forty-four caliber, like mine.”
They listened, and only heard the sound of steps receding.
“Slow and careful,” Byron said. He took the flashlight, turned it on and flashed it down the hall for a moment, then shut it down again. “No obstacles, looks like he’s gone up the stairs.”
“Right.”
They made their way down the hall, hugging the walls on each side.
* * *
Schardius made his way to the top of the stairs. He stopped for the barest moment to try to catch his breath, then turned the door handle. It moved, and he peered around the edge of the door. No one was near, and he slipped out of the door and across the foyer as quickly as he could.
Freedom! was his thought as he burst through the door into the portico and started down the steps.
Chapter 67
Karl Honister looked over at the local patrolman who had shown up on his rounds perhaps a quarter hour earlier, and was hanging around the plaza watching the latecomers hurrying for the door, mostly members of the Hoch-adel. It was growing darker, and the moon wasn’t very high in the sky yet.
“So, Phillip,” Karl said, “have you seen the emperor yet?”
“Today?” the patrolman replied. “No, Sergeant Honister. Not yet, at any rate.”
Honister pulled out his pocket watch and held it up so the setting sun shone on it.
“It’s 6:15, so the opera is going to start late. It wouldn’t be prudent to start without Gustav in his seat.”
Phillip laughed, just as the big outside lights mounted on the front of the opera house turned on with a loud click.