The Case of the Fickle Mermaid (13 page)

“No doubt you will be pleased to return to your glamorous vessel,” she said to Ferdinand.

“I am in no hurry. Oh, I don't deny, she is a well-appointed ship. But there is something rather charming about the
Arabella
,” he said.

Gretel harrumphed into her wine. “It is a charm that I seem alone in being unable to appreciate,” she told him. “Tell me again how you came to be on Amrum. If I were a passenger on the
Fair Fortune
, I would not have given up an hour of it to visit that desolate place.”

“It is the baroness's wish to avail herself of the benefits of saltwater bathing. She is under my care for the duration of the cruise . . .”

“So very good of King Julian to lend you to her. One might have thought she would have guards of her own. But then, what
are families for, if not to pass generals back and forth between one another . . . ?”

“. . . naturally I was required to inspect the island to ensure it was a suitable and safe place for her to visit.” He turned away from the scarlet-streaked sky to look at her with such intensity she felt her composure slip a little. “I am very glad I was on hand to . . . find you, Fraulein Gretel. I do not like to think of you alone in such a state.”

“You would rather keep me company in my predicament?” she asked, more sharply than she had intended.

Ferdinand turned back to the view. “I would rather see you safe,” he said.

There was a moment's slightly awkward silence until Gretel found something to say in an attempt to repair the mood.

“And is the baroness enjoying her voyage?” she asked.

Ferdinand gave a small smile. “Inasmuch as she has not yet had the captain dismissed from his post, nor seen any minor crewmembers tipped overboard, we must assume so.”

“She is not a woman given to revealing her feelings unless they are of the sharp and spiky variety.”

“You know her well. Indeed, she has the entire ship's company on their toes at present, as she has demanded a ball be organized for tomorrow evening. A small fleet of tenders will bring an entire orchestra, no less, along with a hundred further guests, and sufficient food to feed the population of Amrum for a Scandinavian winter, I should imagine.”

“I am certain it will be an affair of the grandest proportions.”

The general looked at Gretel once more. “I wonder, fraulein, if you might care to attend, as my guest. Of course, if your detective work here cannot be broken from . . .”

“It can! I mean to say, it should. Oftentimes the mind functions with greater alacrity following some stimulating diversion,” she told him, then added, “I should be delighted,” her
thoughts already racing ahead, plucking gowns from her trunk, seeking out the perfect garb for such an occasion.

Just then, the mer-hund stiffened, ears akimbo, sprang to its feet, forgetting its bone, and flung itself into the water.

From high up came the cry, “Mer-hund overboard!”

Several passengers hurried to the rail to watch the creature swim. There were exclamations and snatches of laughter. Gretel stayed put. She had no wish to be associated with the undignified animal any more than she could avoid. From the shouts and comments it became apparent that the hound had found something of interest and was returning it to the ship. A man on a rope was lowered. The mer-hund was reeled in. It bounded over to its mistress, shaking copious quantities of sea water all over her.

“Dratted dog! Must you douse me again?”

“Look”—Ferdinand pointed—“it has something in its mouth. Here, boy, what have you found for us?” he asked, gently taking the strange gray object from its mouth. He held up the saturated mass of tangles and seaweed. People stepped forward, craning their necks for a better view, all hazarding guesses as to what treasure it might be.

Gretel did not need to guess. She recognized the tight curls, the pearly glimmer beneath the sea-snail slime, the glittering thread and tiny silver bells. She recognized the unsalvageable wreck of what once had been her beloved wig.

NINE

I
t was good of you to try,” Gretel told Everard. They stood in her cabin, gazing mournfully at the remains of her wig. He had employed all his considerable skills and talents as a hairdresser, but it could not be saved. Gretel had suffered many mishaps and tragedies in her life, but had not, for many years, felt herself as close to weeping as she did at that moment. Here she stood, in her petticoats and corsets, about to don her very finest ball gown, on the point of leaving for what promised to be an exceptionally spectacular evening, and still she would not have the divine pleasure of wearing her wig.

“Upon my word, madam, it is vexing, but there is no more to be done.”

“I understand. There it is. We must do what we can with my poor hair. I swear it is a wonder every person compelled to live near the sea does not shave their head, such is the detrimental effect of all this benighted salt,” she said, raising her looking glass for another critical view of the challenge Everard faced.

“Fear not, madam, I will soon transform you,” he told her, taking up his comb and lotions.

“More coconut oil?”

“I would not be without it.”

As he set to, Gretel forced herself to turn her mind to business. Naturally she was gladdened to be attending the ball as Ferdinand's guest, and the prospect of at last dancing with him was most appealing, but she was a woman of action, of business, of a certain calling and reputation, and her work must take priority when the opportunity presented itself. As it did, rather unexpectedly, on this occasion. Not only would she be able to inspect Captain Ziegler's opposition—both the ship and its owner—but Herr Hoffman had again insisted he accompany the party. The captain had resisted, seeing a chance for himself to be entertained at his rival's expense, but Gretel had persuaded him to let the quartermaster go. She had found a moment to inform him of her suspicions regarding Hoffman, and she needed to see why he wanted to board the
Fair Fortune
so badly. She had held back from revealing to Captain Ziegler that she knew of his past. There seemed no necessity for it. What mattered was that she now better understood why he tolerated the quartermaster; why he needed him. Herr Hoffman would be only too well aware of it himself. She was alerted to the fact that he was capable of murder; she would not turn her back on him again. If someone was trying to drive the
Arabella
out of business, Thorsten Sommer must be a prime candidate. If Hoffman was up to some devious and dastardly deeds, might the two
not be in cahoots? This was the ideal opportunity to spy on the two of them together.

An hour later, Gretel was lowered into the tender once more. The capacious skirts of her gown—the finest chartreuse silk from the Orient, cut in Paris to a design by La Coeur, and representing a sizeable proportion of payment received for her previous case—presented the crewmembers charged with her transfer from ship to launch with some difficulties, so that she was somewhat roughly manhandled in the process. She had been forced to speak plainly more than once to prevent them inadvertently sullying either her dress or her dignity. Hans appeared at the railing to wave her off, the mer-hund restrained on its leash lest it bound in after her.

“Enjoy your evening, sister mine,” he called down, looking the nearest thing to cheerful he had been for several days. The cause of his good humor, and the fact that he had dared emerge from the sanctuary of his kitchen, sat next to Gretel in a cloud of powder and perfume. Gretel frowned at Birgit, who, in her opinion, was wearing far too much rouge and a gown of such unfashionable cut it was almost pitiable. Almost. When Hans had heard of the ball he had begged his sister to take That Woman with her. He rarely breathed fresh air or took a turn about the deck for fear of encountering her. If she were safely installed on a different ship for a few hours, he and the mer-hund could enjoy their freedom together. Gretel had balked, stalled, and prevaricated, not happy with the thought of suffering Birgit's irritating company herself, but he had won her around to the idea with the promise of a special after-ball breakfast in her cabin upon her return. He had also promised to securely lock up the mer-hund; she did not relish the idea of its finding its way to the
Fair Fortune
in search of her.

There followed an uncomfortable boat ride to the rival cruise ship, and more hauling and shoving as she was taken aboard.
It was sufficient to put anyone in an ill humor, but the beauty of the
Fair Fortune
quickly restored Gretel's mood. The other guests had already arrived, so that there was a pleasing air of excitement and bustle. Whereas on the
Arabella
Gretel had been among those who, it was fair to say, had little or no appreciation of fashion or elegance, here she was surrounded by exemplars of
haute couture
and lovers of fine living. Women drifted by swathed in silk and lace, their wigs (their wigs, oh! their wigs) elaborate and daringly tall, their jewels sparkling, their chatter sophisticated and urbane. Powder and perfume replaced the smell of stale ale and male sweat that Gretel had become worryingly accustomed to in the company of Captain Zeigler's men. Here, even the crew cut a dash in crisply laundered white uniforms.

Ferdinand appeared at her side, looking dangerously handsome in his own understated finery. “Good evening, Fraulein Gretel.” He treated her to an elaborate bow.

She replied with a modest curtsey. It had been many years since she had risked a deep dip. This was not the time to risk being unable to rise elegantly. “Herr General,” she said, deliberately turning her gaze from him. “A splendid effort. I trust the baroness is satisfied?”

“She would not venture an opinion so early in the evening.”

“Ah, of course not. Better to allow time to find fault. Though I fancy she might have to look long and hard.”

He offered her his hand and led her across the beribboned and bunting-strewn deck. He took her to a tight gathering of particularly well-turned-out people, at the center of which stood a large fellow, both tall and broad, his appearance suggesting good living and vibrant health, rather than overindulgence. He had a wide brow, sun-kissed skin, and a ready smile. His attire marked him as a naval man, of high rank. Ferdinand threaded through the throng. “Allow me to introduce you to the ship's owner, Thorsten Sommer. Herr Sommer, may I present . . .”

“Ah! Fraulein Gretel of Gesternstadt!” the avuncular man cried. “Your reputation precedes you. An honor and a pleasure,” he insisted, kissing her hand.

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you, Herr Sommer.” Gretel gestured at the loveliness around her. “You have a spectacular vessel. I am most impressed.”

“She is something special indeed, fraulein, though I confess”—here he dropped his voice to a whisper and leant close to her ear—“were I forced to choose, I would say her sister ship, the
Pretty Penny
, is the more graceful of the two.” He laughed loudly, the sudden change in volume startling Gretel. “But there! Parents should not have favorites, what?” His guffawing was infectious, so that others joined in, all trying to outdo one another in their enthusiasm to win the captain's favor. The more they laughed, the louder he laughed, and so it continued beyond all sense, with Herr Sommer delighting in every raucous moment. Soon Gretel felt she was surrounded by braying donkeys. She noticed Ferdinand smiling quietly. He must have known how disappointed she would be to discover the owner of such a ship, and the purveyor of such finery, was something of a vulgar character, albeit a cheerful one. The thought struck her, however, that Captain Ziegler's description of the man was at odds with the reality. Brash and loud be might be, but the man was clearly affable, well liked, and cheery. Not at all the sly character she had been given to expect.

“Come,” Ferdinand said, gently taking her arm, “let us try the ballroom. The musicians make a rather better sound, I think you'll find.”

And indeed they did. The ballroom was a vision of white—the linen, the drapes, the livery of the waiters and uniforms of the carefully selected crewmembers who were on hand to dance with lone ladies. Of which there were quite a few. It struck Gretel that such voyages had a disproportionate number
of female to male passengers, making the women permanently on edge, and giving any single men a rather hunted look. Birgit was in her element. She wasted not one second talking to anyone who was attached to another, and blatantly turned her back on any person of her own gender who unwittingly sought to engage her in polite conversation. Gretel observed her as she worked the room, singling out the single men, offering them no choice but to dance with her, summoning waiters with more champagne for the faint-hearted, quickly ditching one after the next when the brief conversation a waltz allowed evidently yielded the wrong answers to her no doubt blush-makingly forthright questions. She could have pitied the men, had she not been happily wedded to the thought that That Woman might find An Other to pursue in place of Hans.

The following hours passed in a blur of dancing and drinking—the champagne on offer being of the most excellent quality—and exchanging decreasingly clear but increasingly amusing banter with Ferdinand and several of the other ball-goers. Such was the delightfulness of the evening that it was with some difficulty that Gretel forced herself to remember her work, and that she must make the most of the opportunity to gain further insights into the case she was charged with solving. She watched Herr Hoffman and Herr Sommer as closely as her somewhat blurred vision allowed. They exchanged pleasantries, and spent a little time in each other's company, but did nothing that looked remotely suspicious or conspiratorial. Nor did they leave the ballroom together at any time.

Baroness Schleswig-Holstein appeared to be enjoying the ball, though it was difficult to tell. She had grudgingly acknowledged Gretel when Ferdinand had presented her. Gretel doubted the aristocrat remembered her. In fact, she rather hoped she did not, as, on the previous occasion they had met, the baroness had accused her of theft. Better to put
that encounter into the dim distant past and attempt to make a more favorable impression. Not that the baroness cared. Anyone below the rank of baron was evidently not worthy of conversation. Gretel witnessed more than two counts cruelly blanked. She pitied Ferdinand his duty of protecting the woman, but at least his work had at last given them the opportunity to dance together. And he was indeed a fair dancer.