Thoroughly bewildered, Steven sat down at a table and sipped the black coffee, which was far too bitter. Where could Sara be? Why hadn’t she told him where she was going? Once again, he had a feeling that the art detective was hiding something from him. He remembered how calmly Sara had searched the body of that hit man in his bookshop. What had she said at the time?
Why don’t you just assume I have a certain amount of experience . . .
Steven quickly skimmed through the local paper, until on one of the back pages he found a headline that ruined his appetite.
BOOKSELLER MURDER SUSPECT: THE SEARCH GOES ON
The story under it didn’t contain much news; it simply reiterated that a certain Steven Lukas had disappeared, and the police were still in the dark. Steven sighed and put the paper down in revulsion. At least they’d refrained from printing a photo of him this time. He got to his feet, deciding to follow up his suspicions of the Grotto of Venus, even without Sara.
Outside the hotel, the October sky was gray and cloudy, and with only a thin T-shirt under the leather jacket, Steven immediately began shivering. A notice on the nearby entrance to the park announced, as he expected, that the castle and the upper part of the grounds were closed; otherwise, however, there seemed to be free access. The bookseller passed the wrought-iron gate and walked through the little wood, which was surrounded by bushes. He met only a few tourists at this early hour, and soon he was on his own among the tall trees. A curious squirrel scurried past his feet, and somewhere he heard the cawing of a crow. Morning mist lay over the hedges and arbors, from which brightly colored leaves fell to the ground.
Steven left the little pond and walked east until a red and white plastic tape barred his way. Beyond it he saw several limousines outside the castle, and the shrill laughter of women reached his ears. Half a dozen domestic staff were setting up little cocktail tables.
Nice place for a party, Steven thought. And in this outfit, I could pass for an invited guest, maybe a rock star.
“Hey, you! What are you doing here?”
A powerfully built steward in a gray suit was coming toward him. A walkie-talkie at his side was chirping.
“I’m . . . er . . . going for a walk,” Steven replied. “Is that forbidden?”
“So long as you stay this side of the barrier, it’s okay,” growled the man. “There’s a private event here today.”
“Manstein, yes, I know.” Steven nodded and pointed up at the Grotto of Venus. “Listen, couldn’t I take a little look all the same?”
“Forget it,” the steward said. “Better find somewhere else to go for a walk.” His walkie-talkie squawked, and he turned abruptly away as he muttered unintelligibly into it.
Steven waited for the man to be out of sight, and then he turned around. He walked back the way he had come, until a narrow path turned off into the wood to the right. There was another tape barrier here, too, with a notice in red lettering dangling on it.
NO ENTRY. PRIVATE FUNCTION.
Rather undecided, Steven stopped in front of it, but there was no steward to be seen.
What the hell, he thought. It’s not like they’re going to shoot me.
After looking carefully around once more, he slipped under the tape and climbed the steep path that led to the upper part of the park. He heard laughter and the occasional car engine in the distance, but apart from that, it was quiet among the beech, spruce, and linden trees.
Another shady path branched off to the right, leading Steven to a small mound of rocks. Past it was a door-shaped stone slab with a keyhole. Knocking gently, he sensed a hollow space behind the slab.
The entrance to the Grotto of Venus.
Should he just go in? Once again Steven looked around, but apart from a few curious squirrels, he couldn’t see a soul. He took a deep breath and pushed the stone slab.
At the same moment, the revolving door concealed in the rock opened in front of him, and a woman in her midforties with short gray hair came out.
“Can I help you?” she asked sharply, inspecting Steven as if he were a piece of garbage.
The bookseller was so surprised that at first he was at a loss for words. Only after what felt like an eternity did he finally get his mouth open. “I . . . I only wanted to see the grotto,” he stammered.
“Forget it. It’s closed today.” The gray-haired woman folded her arms and looked challengingly at him. Her close-fitting pantsuit and lack of makeup gave her an austere, masculine appearance.
“Oh, how stupid,” Steven said. “Now what am I going to tell my boss when I come home without a story?”
“Story?” The stranger, probably another steward herself, raised her right eyebrow. Apart from that, her attitude had not thawed one bit.