Aria in Ice (18 page)

“When I heard another snatch of music the
other day up in the tower room. “
Night and Day.”
I thought
that was odd—I mean could a ghost learn other pieces of music after
he’s died? I guess they could, since they’re fully capable of
serenading and belting out various tunes and playing various
instrument, but really, why would Ignatz be playing Cole Porter?
That wouldn’t be his style, would it?”

“Stop! You’re making me crazy!”

“Sorry.”

“What are you talking about? I mean,
when?”

“Sorry, “ I repeated. “When fifty-gazillion
people were exploring that part of the castle before Veronika came
in and chased us out the day of Gustav’s death. I heard music.
Thought Ignatz was performing for my benefit. Now I’m not so sure
it was him. He. Whatever. It’s very possible the musician was your
friend Gustav. Only hours after he died.”

Johnny muttered, “Not my friend. Never met
him—and am not likely to at this point.” He closed his eyes.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just—a thought. I’ll let it
ruminate before I open my mouth with theories.”

“Oh. Fine. Be that way. I’ve just bared my
ghost-listening ramblings and you’re getting cryptic.”

He smiled. “Yep. I’ll try and tell you later
when I won’t sound like a lunatic although you’re the one who’d
actually believe me. Something that happened the day I met you.
Before the slide from the tree.” Then he narrowed his eyes at me.
“You’re not leaving, are you.” It was not a question. “Damn it,
Abby, what happens when someone in this crowd figures out you’re in
concert with Ignatz Jezek—so to speak—and determines Jezek is
telling his new best friend where to find the flute? Can we say
danger?”

I paused, then dove in. “Johnny, while a
murder is awful and frightening and just wrong, and you, me and
Shay are doubtless in deep doo-doo from some villainous creep, do
you realize it’s possible we could find out what happened to not
just Ignatz Jezek but to the recent victim of what seems to be the
curse of
Kouzlo Noc
?”

Johnny looked grim. “I’m better with the ‘we’
but can you at least agree that you and Shay you need to stay
together—or around me—as much as possible when you’re inside the
castle? Or on the grounds for that matter.”

I pondered this sensible suggestion. “ Hell
yeah. Shay and I aren’t ready to meet The Almighty face to face..
And while we can act tough, there’s some major chicken bones within
so I never have a problem wanting to stick close to you.” I tried
to smile. “Especially since I don’t have the brothers Marricino and
their ancient Sicilian friends from lower Manhattan here to play
bodyguard. Nope. It’s hip to hip—Abby and Johnny. But I do wish
you’d let the rest of the
Kouzlo Noc
crowd in on our one-day
impending vows so we could get those hips a bit closer.”

He leaned over and kissed me. “You’re a pain,
but I love you. Sadly, with what’s been happening it’s safer for
them to think we met the first day you were at
Kouzlo Noc
.
Safer for you. I’ve been sure of that since the day I came sliding
down the tree to see your perky little face staring up at me.
Corbin and Franz are very aware I’ve been touring the castle and
I’d prefer they didn’t add you to their suspect list of fellow
treasure hunters.” His words mingled with the sounds of the
Astronomical Clock—only blocks away from where we were
sitting—announcing to all of Prague it was now nine.

“Oh nuts! Shay and I were supposed to meet at
the hotel lobby at nine. We’re off to the castle. She’s Miss
Punctuality to the minute. Talk about whuppin’ ass.”

“Relax. I told her I was going to talk to you
if I had to kidnap you to make you listen.”

I grabbed my bag from the floor under my
feet. “All the same, I guess I’d better hunt her down. If I don’t
get back and give her the whole scoop on that dangerous criminal,
Johnny Gerard, and Fred and Ginger the lion twins, she’ll never let
me loose again to unearth truths of any consequence.”

The pleasant breeze that had bathed Prague in
a balmy glow last night when Shay and I came dragging in from the
club, then remained this early morning when Johnny treated me to
breakfast and confidences, had this late morning become demonic
chilly winds forcing temperatures to fall at a rapid rate. Shay and
I stood in front of the dragon doorknockers at
Kouzlo Noc
and shivered while we waited for someone to let us in.

“Why is Prague freezing in March? It’s
flippin’ damn cold! Why didn’t we turn back about an hour ago when
we saw snow falling in cute little flakes? Why didn’t Bambi choose
someplace like Florida which has never seen white flakes outside of
dandruff?” Shay whined.

“Because Gothic novels do not lend themselves
to Miami. That’s why. Which reminds me. Did you ever settle on a
real title?”

Her expression became impish. “What? You
didn’t buy the Naked Mistress of Whatever I threw out?”

“In a word—no. You’re won’t sabotage what
could be a terrific film by naming it something that will end up on
online porn sites. And even if you were, Bambi would be flying in
from India to whip your butt. Hopefully after sharing fresh-made
samosa with the location scout—
moi
.”

“Good reasons all. Actually, I’m going with
Silhouette Tower
. Short, sweet. Has that Gothic feel.
Doesn’t scream ‘chick flick’. Could be horror. Could be romance.
Could be suspense. I like it.”

“I do too. Now just don’t name the damn
heroine Kelsey, okay?”

“Little too modern for you?”

“Just a tad. Which reminds me, how are we
supposed to have a boat chase down the Vltava in this epic film?
I’m fairly certain recreational motorboats were invented back in
1860 something. A paddle-boat chase doesn’t have quite the same
quality of suspense—and that’s all I see available for
tourists.”

Shay pulled the bell rope again. “They didn’t
have rock music either but Mitchell has some major crankin’ tunes
in mind. Be open-minded.”

“When am I ever not?” I got brave and grabbed
one of the demonic dragons then let its head rattle against the
door. “Damn. What’s the deal here? Freeze the poor movie people so
they’ll learn a lesson and not prowl around the castle hunting for
the family ghost?”

As if she’d been waiting to hear me make that
statement, Veronika suddenly yanked open the door and waved us in.
“I am so sorry to leave you in the cold. But we were watching the
tuning man with the harpsichord and we did not hear the door.”

Both Shay and I stood in stunned silence.
Tuning man? Was Gustav the ghost playing with tuning forks from
beyond?

Veronika saw our expressions. “We haf good
friend from Prague who tells us he hass boy who needs work. Many
people not keep music instruments in repair yet he hass problem
earning living because people not care. But we are happy to tell
him that we haf money to pay him for making harpsichord sound
pretty again. Thanks to Mees Martin.” Her eyes clouded for a
moment. “I only wish….”

“We know,” I quickly interjected before my
own eyes began churning out the tears.

Veronika led us to the ballroom where, sure
enough, a pony-tailed young man wearing round-rimmed wire glasses
was tinkering with the strings of the antique piece with an
expression approaching ecstasy on his handsome face. The other
Headlights
company members, namely Franz, Lily and Mitchell,
watched him work with overly intense interest. Creepy.

Veronika made strained introductions. We were
all reminded of the last young man who came to tune a Duskova
keyboard and met a violent death. “Thees is Mr. Frederick Romberg.
From Vienna but now living in Prague. He fixes harpsichord good for
us. He arrives this morning early to help.”

I’d relayed Johnny’s warning to Shay about
murderers roaming the castle, but from the way she reacted now, one
would suppose she’d been kept completely in the dark about any
danger at any time. She peered into the face of the man hiding
under the harpsichord. “Yo! Fritz. Good to meet you. And you’re
saving our behinds here by making that old instrument sing. Did
Veronika tell you about the movie?” Shay turned to the others.
“That reminds me, did I tell you we settled on a name? Yep.
Silhouette Tower.
Now, Franz is still Count Zilania but
Lily? You’re neither Honoria nor Kelsey. I had to get creative
here. So the new name for your character is Constanze.”

I blinked. My musical biography knowledge
isn’t all that great but I could swear that Constanze was the name
of Mozart’s wife. Trust Shay to stir the pot just a bit.

I didn’t want to make Shay preen any more
than she already was, but I did love Constanze as the name for the
heroine of
Silhouette Tower
. A touch of Bavaria mixed with
sweetness. And no one was blanching, gasping or fainting at the
sound, so either I was wrong and Constanze had nothing to do with
Mozart, or people were acting casual about the coincidence, or
maybe they knew and just couldn’t see where it mattered in the
scheme of flutes, treasure and death. I was going with the latter
since I also wasn’t sure if it meant anything at all.

“It’s good, Shay.” I pursed my lips. “Of
course, after ‘Kelsey’ anything would make better sense for this
period in history.”

Fritz Romberg looked up from underneath the
harpsichord. He held a tuning fork in one hand. “Madam Duskova
tells me you are doing a film? With music?”

I let Shay answer. She loves sensitive, nerdy
guys. Since she was still mad at Fuji, her boyfriend who’d gone a
bit star-crazy when he became the starting pitcher for the Yankees
she was on the prowl for fresh meat. She now plopped down on the
floor next to the piano tuner and stated, “Yes, indeed, we’re
shooting a film. The Duskovas have been kind enough to rent us the
castle. It’s a musical version of a Gothic romance. Mostly rock
music but Mitchell does has some lighter, more classical pieces,
too. It’s going to be utterly marvelous.”

Fritz’ English was precise. He shyly asked,
“Do you perhaps need a harpsichordist to play this wonderful old
instrument once I am finished with tuning?”

I brightened and Shay looked like she was
going to dance a gig on the harpsichord itself. I answered for our
director. “Oh hell, yeah! That would be fantastic! A harpsichord is
beyond perfect for this whole flick. Sassh-ay, any comments?”

Shay’s head nodded vigorously. “I love it.
You’re in, Mr. Romberg. Payment to be arranged later but I promise
it will keep you in tuning forks for many years.”

“Thank you. Sash-ay? Is that right?”

I chuckled. “It’s Shay, but I occasionally
annoy her by reminding her it could be worse.”

Shay took over without pausing to bash my
head in. “Yes, it’s Shay. I don’t own
Headlights Productions
but I’m in control of this project. I’ve wanted to do something
with this book since Abs and I read it a gazillion years ago before
we even knew one another. You don’t mind if I call you Fritz, do
you?”

He bowed. As much as anyone could who was
curled under a harpsichord plucking strings with a tuning fork
glued to his ear.

“Fritz is fine.” He looked at me with blatant
curiosity. “Abs. That is not a common name, no?”

I shook my head. “It’s Abby. Shay is being a
toad.”

“Ah. Well, nice to meet you Abby. That is a
prettier name than a nickname for body crunches. I like it. And I
am very pleased that you and Shay will let me play for your film.
It is hard to find work as a musician and as a tuner here in
Prague, although it is a very musical city.”

Shay had been waiting impatiently for a
chance to chime in. “Sorry. About the work, that is—not the city. I
love it. Great history of music. Like I’m telling you something
new?”

They were in perfect sync. Within seconds,
Shay was under the durn harpsichord talking to Fritz like they’d
been hooked up for years. I headed off to the sitting room to plunk
in front of the fireplace and make notes as to where I thought
various scenes for the film needed to be set.

The doorbell (or did Veronika call it a
doorpull?) rang. Or sounded. Or chimed. Or…I had no words for a
bell pull that played
Kyrie Eleison
from a master composer’s
Requiem
Mass, other than ‘cool.’ I checked the clock on the
mantle in the sitting room. Three in the afternoon. I’d been in
this room for three hours. I had no idea where Shay was. Presumably
she was following Fritz through the merry romp of twanging strings
on instruments. I had ten pages worth of notes. A great start.

I got up to find out where the others were
and what they were doing—and ran smack into a vision.

I could see Trina, draped in the patterned
quilt I’d been so enamored with in that tiny bedroom Veronika had
shown me my first day at Kouzlo Noc. Trina wasn’t sleeping though.
Trina looked cold. Trina looked white. Trina wasn’t moving.

I nearly started screaming. I ran out of the
sitting room in time to see Marta heading for the back door.
Veronika was engaged in a heavy conversation with Franz. Shay and
Fritz were still under the harpsichord. Three hours seemed a bit
lengthy for master tuners and I had to bite back sarcastically
inquiring as to whether work was actually getting done or they’d
used the privacy for a long autumn nap or another pursuit more—in
Shay’s words—aerobic. Lily and Franz were in a far corner of the
ballroom, heads deep into a script. I assumed it was for
Silhouette Tower
. Shay is extremely efficient even when
she’s going after a gorgeous male. She’d had copies of the script
made the minute she took on the project.

Trina was nowhere in sight, so Veronika and
Marta were pulling double duty as hostesses and doorwomen. I prayed
my vision was wrong. I knew it wasn’t.