The Wurst Is Yet to Come (10 page)

Renie gazed at the people who were milling about on the sidewalks. Many of them were wearing Bavarian garb and obviously enjoying themselves. “That'd be too mean of her,” she declared. “You're here at her behest and she pulls a stunt like this? Why doesn't she get her butt over here with the rest of the B&B gang?”

“She's an administrator,” Judith explained. “There are only a couple of dozen B&B owners in town. Ingrid made all the arrangements, but her presence isn't necessary.”

“So what do we do now?” Renie gazed at the town hall's clock tower. “It's one-fifty. We've got almost two hours to kill. So to speak.”

Judith stepped aside for two 'tweenaged girls in dirndls running down the street and giggling their pigtailed heads off. A brass ensemble playing a merry tune could be heard in the distance. The sun was out, pale gold against a blue sky. What should have been a pleasant day now tasted sour.

“Let's go to the booth,” Judith said after a pause. “I don't know who's on duty, but there may be some innkeepers I haven't met. We can gauge their attitudes about this whole mess.”

“That sounds like so much fun, I'd almost rather shave my head with a potato peeler.” But Renie fell into step with her cousin.

Judith spotted Connie Beaulieu at once, but the plump older man with her in the booth was a stranger. A dozen people, including children, were perusing brochures and chatting with the innkeepers.

“Want me to break this up?” Renie asked quietly.

“No! They're potential guests.”

“Not if you wait for those tots to grow up. You don't allow children.”

“But parents need getaways.”

Renie sighed. “So do I. Hey—we missed lunch.”

“I think there's food available a couple of booths down,” Judith said, recalling the exhibitors' layout from her travel package. “Go eat something before you get surly . . . er.”

“I'll do that.” Renie stalked away.

At least five minutes passed before Connie and the other innkeeper were free. Judith had amused herself by gazing at the passing parade that included two teenagers wearing antlers, several adults loaded down with shopping bags, a young man on crutches, and a redheaded woman mounted on a handsome gray hunter that looked like a show horse.

“Judith!” Connie exclaimed. “Come meet Eldridge Hoover! He's from the other side of the mountains, so he's staying with the eastern contingent at the Bavarian Inn. I just love him to pieces!”

Eldridge put out a pudgy hand and chuckled. “Call me ‘Ridge,' ” he said, “given that I'm sure not rich. Ho-ho-ho.”

“Hi, Ridge,” Judith said, shaking the man's soft hand. “How's everything going?”

Eldridge's jovial expression changed. “To hell in a handcart. I'm glad I missed the cocktail party last night. Terrible tragedy. That poor old man—he lives to a great age and then somebody stabs him like a chunk of beef!” He shook his balding gray head and hooked his thumbs into his blue suspenders. “Why would anybody do such a thing?”

Connie leaned toward Judith. “I heard the most incredible rumor. Ellie is supposed to have confessed! That's ridiculous. I was with her when it happened. How does such gossip get started?”

Judith was wide-eyed. “You were with her? Really?”

“Of course,” Connie said indignantly. “We didn't take part in the dancing. I don't know those steps. She and I were about to get something to eat when it happened.” She shuddered, blond curls glinting in the autumn sunlight. “Were you there?”

“Yes,” Judith admitted, “but we left right away. Too gruesome.”

“But,” Connie said, puzzled, “I thought your cousin was . . . you know.” She winked.

“Serena prefers distancing herself from the immediate crime,” Judith explained. “The ensuing chaos clouds her . . . brain.”

Connie nodded. “I understand. She must be very deep.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Judith saw Renie approaching with a white-and-brown paper bag. She was stuffing a large clump of dark chocolate in her mouth. “Yes,” Judith remarked, “she likes to savor things. I'll leave you in peace. I see more visitors approaching.”

“Oh, yes,” Connie said. “See you at four.”

Eldridge was beaming again. “Nice to meet you, Judith. How about being my date for the beer tasting later on?”

“Uh . . .” Judith was already backpedaling away from the booth. “I have to see what my cousin's schedule is. She's been sleuthing, you see. Very conscientious, very thorough.”

“Oh?” Eldridge was befuddled. Maybe he hadn't heard of the infamous FASTO. “See you there, then,” he said, sounding disappointed.

Judith managed to get in front of Renie before Connie and Eldridge could notice the melted chocolate that almost covered her cousin's chin. “You're a wreck,” she muttered. “Didn't the candy booth have a napkin?”

“No,” Renie said, after swallowing the chocolate she'd managed to get inside her mouth and not on her person. “Why?”

“Skip it.” Judith gazed at their surroundings. “Let's take a break from murder, real or otherwise, and browse some of the shops.”

“Okay.” Renie pointed to a clothing store. “Bill's always wanted a cape. Maybe I can get him one of those Tyrolean-style things like the one I bought when we visited Innsbruck years ago.”

Judith was dubious. “Bavaria meets the Tyrol?”

“Hey, most people can't tell one part of the Holy Roman Empire from another.”

“Clean yourself up. You don't want to get chocolate on the merchandise.”

“No problem,” Renie said, popping another chocolate cluster into her mouth. “That's the last one. Ha ha.” She used the empty bag to wipe off her face. And her neck. And both hands. “I'm good. Let's go.”

The shop was nestled between a cobbler and an antiques store. Judith refrained from chastising her cousin for her piggery. The worst part was that Renie could eat so much and never gain an ounce.
Metabolism,
Judith thought—
some pigs got it, some pigs don't.

The clothing shop was fairly small and very busy. While Renie browsed outerwear, Judith looked at sweaters. Christmas wasn't that far away. Maybe she could find something for Joe or Mike and his family. A forest-green lamb's-wool pullover caught her attention. It would suit Joe, but was available only in small and medium sizes. A navy-blue mohair crewneck suited Mike, but for all Judith knew, he might be sent to Florida on his next assignment. Frustrated, she moved on to the children's section. Before she could get past the lederhosen, someone tapped her arm.

“Judith?” said George Beaulieu. “Have you seen my wife?”

“Why, yes,” she replied. “I talked to her just a few minutes ago at the B&B booth.”

“She's not there now,” he said, looking worried. “She was supposed to come off duty at two. We were going to have a late lunch.”

“Who's in the booth now?” Judith inquired.

“Ah . . .” George tweaked his handlebar mustache. “Two innkeepers from the eastern group. They thought she'd headed this way.”

Judith shrugged. “She's not here. But there are several other stores in this building, including up on the second floor. Maybe she went to the bookshop. It's right above us. Did you happen to see Mr. Hoover? He was with her in the booth.”

“He's not there now,” George said, his high forehead creased with concern. “I met him when I walked Connie to the exhibit. This whole situation makes me anxious. What does your cousin think about it?”

Looking for Renie, she spotted her cousin at the cash register. “She's still in the early interrogation stages. You've heard about Ellie?”

George nodded. “It's a mistake. Eleanor couldn't possibly have killed her grandfather. She must be taking the blame for someone else. That's the trouble with Ellie. Connie says the woman is so noble.” He grimaced. “I must be on my way. If you see my wife, please tell her I'm worried.” He paused, staring into Judith's eyes. “I still think you must be part Gypsy. Don't be offended.”

Before Judith could comment, George hurried from the shop.

Judith joined Renie at the counter. “What did you buy?”

“A snap-brim corduroy cap,” Renie replied. “No capes that wouldn't make Bill look like a bat.” She waited to get her receipt from the young woman at the register. “Who was that guy with the revolting mustache?” she asked as they started out of the store.

“Connie's husband. He lost her somehow.”

“I don't blame him,” Renie said, pausing on the walkway. “Let's go up to the bookstore. Bill gave me a list of World War Two books he thought they might have here.”

Judith glanced at the stairs leading to the second story. “Why not? Joe likes those books, too, though he's not as avid about history as Bill.”

The cousins climbed up to the balcony that jutted out from the front of the Bavarian chalet. They passed a crafts shop and a photography studio before arriving at Sadie's Stories.

The store was small, but one wall was so tall that a ladder was positioned by it. A half-dozen customers were browsing the fiction section. To Judith's dismay, the family of four from the train was among them. Thurmond was wrestling with a stuffed bear by the children's section. Ormond was chewing on the edges of a kiddie board book. His parents seemed absorbed in legal thrillers.

Renie nudged Judith. “Is it too late for me to get a restraining order for those little twits?”

“Ask their parents,” Judith whispered. “They're the ones checking out the lawyer books.”

“Just don't let them near me. Here's the history section,” Renie said, pointing to a shelf behind her cousin.

“You know more about the subject than I do,” Judith said. “Recommend something.”

Renie, however, was studying Bill's list, printed in his small neat writing.
“The Gestapo: Hitler's Horror,”
she murmured.
“The SS and
Racial Cleansing
.
Himmler Does Hamburg.”

Judith looked over Renie's shoulder. “That can't be a real title.”

“It's not, but all of these sound so gruesome,” Renie said. “Whatever happened to
Fun with Adolf and Eva
?”

“They didn't end up having much of that,” Judith pointed out.

“Serves them right. Oh, here's one Bill has marked with an asterisk—
Kommandant Killer: Hitler's Avenging Angel
.”

Judith winced. “That sounds even worse.”

“It's all bad,” Renie declared. “I was old enough by the end of the war to read newspapers and magazines. I was horrified.” She perused the shelves. “I don't see Bill's priority title. Maybe I should ask Sadie.”

Noting the auburn-haired girl behind the counter, Judith smiled. “I'll bet she's not Sadie. It's such an old-fashioned name.”

The cousins waited for the clerk to ring up a young man who was buying a hiking trail book. After he left, Renie leaned on the counter. “I'll bet you a ten percent discount you're not Sadie.”

“Bet's off,” the clerk replied, giggling. “Sadie's been dead for thirty years. I'm her granddaughter, Jessica. Call me Jessi—with an
i
.”

Renie showed Jessi the list Bill had made out. “My husband especially wants the Kommandant book. I don't know why—he already runs our house like a stalag. But I can't find this one on the shelf.”

“Let me check,” Jessi said, going to the computer. “We can probably order it from . . .” She frowned. “Weird. It's been deleted.”

“Out of print?” Renie asked.

“No,” Jessi replied, still frowning at the screen. “It's a recent release. That's really odd. We had some computer problems a couple of days ago, but a techie customer fixed it. What else is on your list?”

“Here,” Renie said, pushing the slip of paper across the counter. “Take your pick. My husband starred only the one you can't get.”

“We have the first two,” the clerk said. “I'll get them for you.” Jessi started around to the other side of the counter but paused, her fair, fresh-scrubbed face lighting up. “Barry! I thought you had to work.”

The cousins recognized the younger bartender from Wolfgang's Gast Haus. “Barry fits him better than Fritz,” Renie whispered.

Barry was focused on Jessi. “I don't have to work until later,” he said, before noticing the cousins. “Hey—weren't you at the cocktail party last night when Wessler got killed?”

The parents of the little boys turned away from their legal thrillers to stare at the newcomer.

“We escaped right after the carnage,” Renie said. “Where were you? The bar wasn't being tended the last time we sought refills.”

“Both of us Fritzes had to see what happened when the music stopped,” Barry said. “Then we served brandy for the people in shock.”

Jessi touched his arm. “I'm glad I wasn't there. It sounded grim.”

“It was,” Barry said solemnly, “though I never got a good look.”

A loud crash startled Judith, who turned to see the floor covered with chunks of plaster of Paris. Thurmond was screaming his head off.

“Thomas Mann!” Jessi cried. “The kid busted his bust!”

“Thurmy!” the mother shouted, racing to her son. “Did the nasty head fall on you? My poor little man!”

“What about Herr Mann?” Jessi said under her breath. “Kids!”

Thurmond kept yelling. His father smiled fondly. “He's okay, Gina. A good thing that statue wasn't marble.” He turned to Jessi. “You should keep stuff like that out of children's reach. It's dangerous.”

“It's hollow,” Jessi snapped. “He shouldn't have climbed the ladder. And your other little guy is ripping up
The Cat in the Hat
.”