Alchemy, p.26
Alchemy, page 26
She glanced towards the kitchen and leaned one hand on the table. ‘Look, I’m not in the habit of turning away customers,’ she said in a low voice, ‘but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll find your food and drink elsewhere.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Because there are people in this town who are taking a good deal of interest in you and your questions. People you don’t want to cross, trust me.’
‘I see. And what if I don’t know what’s good for me?’
She shrugged. ‘Then you can’t say you weren’t warned.’
‘Will a stable door hit me in the face?’
Her jaw tightened. ‘That’ll be the least of it.’
She turned to go and I caught her by the sleeve. ‘Listen, Magda. Sukie is in danger. Her father is driving himself mad with worry.’
She let out a bitter laugh. ‘That’s rich. Do you know how many times I’ve given that child a hot meal from my own pot because Erik Moller never worried about her enough to shift his arse out of whichever shithole he’d passed out in?’
‘Well, exactly,’ I said. ‘You care about her, I know you do. Erik says that, apart from Ziggi Bartos, you’re the only person she would confide in. So if you know where she is, for God’s sake tell me before she’s found by someone who doesn’t care.’
She brushed my hand away, but not before I had seen the expression of guilt and fear that flashed across her face.
‘And your sister is suspected of theft,’ I added, pressing my advantage. ‘Did you and your husband put her up to that? Will you compensate her if she loses her position?’ I had no idea how Hajek would deal with Greta over the keys, but I could see that my words had struck Magda’s conscience. ‘I mention it because whatever you’re mixed up in is your business, except that it’s beginning to have consequences for other people. Greta, Sukie – people I don’t think you want to see hurt. If you help me, I can help you.’
A number of emotions wrestled for control of Magda’s face; eventually she settled on fury. She perched on the edge of the stool opposite and jammed her elbows on the table, leaning across until her face was inches from mine. Even then, she spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear her.
‘You listen. My husband has sunk this tavern so deep in debt we’re on the edge of losing everything. So I will do whatever I must to survive. My sister understands that. Thaddeus Hajek won’t throw her out – I know him.’
‘Did someone offer you money to get those keys? Is that why Greta agreed to it? Who was it?’
She pointed a finger in my face. ‘There’s nothing you can do to help me, Dr Bruno, except to stay out of my business. Oh yes, I know who you are – Greta’s told me all about you. I’m sure you mean well, but you’re a stranger and you don’t know the kind of people you’re dealing with here.’
‘Actually, I think I do,’ I said. I gestured to her cheek. ‘And what about Sukie? Are you going to let your husband do that to her as well?’
With the speed of a snake striking prey, she slapped me across the face before I had a chance to dodge. ‘Get out of my tavern,’ she hissed through her teeth. ‘I can’t tell you where Sukie is, but I can promise I would never let anyone touch a hair of her head. You’ll have to believe me.’
‘All right, I’ll go.’ I fought the urge to rub my smarting face, for the sake of my pride. ‘But listen to me. Sukie has something with her, she wants to sell it. If you know where she is, and if it’s not too late, I beg you, don’t let her touch it. Nor anyone else. Get it to Dr Hajek as soon as possible – I’m sure he’ll reward you.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Dangerous, is it?’
‘In the wrong hands, yes.’
‘Hmm. I suppose the wrong hands is all a matter of perspective,’ she murmured, and I could see her calculating. I regretted having spoken; she was already picturing the silver thalers dancing in her mind’s eye. Her expression changed in an instant as a shadow fell across the table. I saw her flinch, and looked up to see a large man with a stubbled jaw and a face like a boiled ham standing over me.
He barked something at Magda in Czech and she jumped up so fast she knocked her stool over, fumbled to right it and finally stood, smoothing her skirts repeatedly in a nervous gesture.
‘I was just saying to my wife,’ the man said pleasantly, turning to me and speaking in German, ‘how well we must be doing, that she has the leisure to sit gossiping with customers.’
So this was the famous Jan Boodt. His hair was a fading red and his gut strained at his jerkin; though he was determinedly smiling at me, there was a wild light in his eyes that suggested he was just waiting for me to give him an excuse to pin me against the wall with his arm across my throat.
‘Please – the fault was mine,’ I said, forcing myself to match his friendly tone. ‘I asked about the history of the tavern.’ It was the first thing that came into my head, and it sounded as unconvincing to my ears as it evidently did to his.
‘History, is it?’ He grinned, showing several missing teeth. ‘Well, you’ve come to the right place – my wife’s so old, she’s like a walking chronicle.’ He chuckled at his own joke, then peered closer at me as understanding dawned. ‘Wait a moment – is this Erik Moller’s guardian angel?’ When Magda nodded, he reached out a meaty hand and clasped mine, harder than necessary, to demonstrate the strength of his grip. ‘Good to meet you, friend. You must be a wealthy man, as well as a stupid one. Fast as you reach for your purse, he’ll run up another debt twice as big. You going to keep bailing him out, are you?’
‘I’m hoping he’s learned his lesson,’ I said evenly.
Jan Boodt threw his head back and laughed from his belly as if this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. ‘You are a fool then,’ he said. ‘Men like him never learn. Weak, that’s what he is.’ The laughter stopped abruptly; his lip curled with contempt. ‘Despite the evidence of all his senses, he goes on believing the winning card will turn up in the next hand. And yet somehow Lady Luck never smiles on Erik Moller, fickle whore that she is.’ He adopted an exaggerated expression of regret.
‘That’s because it’s not a matter of luck, but strategy,’ I said.
He looked at me with renewed interest. ‘Oh yes? Card player yourself, are you?’
‘When the mood takes me.’
‘Huh. Well, if the mood takes you later, we can always fit one more at our table.’ He jerked his head towards the yard door. ‘Starts after midnight. Come in through the back and you can show us your strategies. Bring a full purse, mind – I don’t give credit to strangers.’
‘I might take you up on that,’ I said.
‘Good man. It’ll be a pleasure bleeding you dry.’ He cuffed me on the shoulder so hard I almost fell off the stool.
‘Jan,’ Magda said in a warning tone.
‘Shut your mouth, woman. Figure of speech. I’d have thought you’d be pleased to see his pretty face here again, eh? You didn’t mention he was handsome. She likes the dark ones,’ he said to me, as if in a theatrical aside. ‘Got a taste for Spaniards, haven’t you, my love? Not that he’d look at a dry old bitch like you,’ he added to his wife. ‘Don’t you have pies need putting in the oven, or are we not expecting any customers today?’
Magda bobbed her head, sent me a meaningful glance, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
I pushed my stool back, my jaw clenched tight. I have always reserved an especial contempt for men who use their fists on women and children. Every sinew in my body burned with the urge to punch Jan Boodt in the face, but I was not at my fittest after my tussle with Erik earlier and though Boodt must be well into his fifties, he was at least six feet tall and looked like the kind who would fight dirty. I was familiar with his sort: a bully with a small amount of power in his limited domain, which he threw about to mask his fear of his own weakness. I had encountered plenty of Jan Boodts in the Dominican order; they were no different, though they did their bullying in Latin. Montalcino was one. It took all my self-discipline to maintain a detached expression. For now I needed Boodt to think I was biddable.
‘Not staying for dinner then?’ he said as I gathered up my bag.
‘I have pressing business elsewhere, I’m afraid.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ he said with that wolfish smile. ‘You’re a busy man, from what I hear. Give your mate Erik my regards, won’t you. Tell me, did he ever find his daughter?’
I turned with a sharp look, but his broad red face was all innocence.
‘Why, have you seen her?’
‘Me? No. Magda mentioned she’d run off again, poor mite. Can’t blame her, really. I’ll keep an eye out, though. See you later. Don’t forget – full purse.’ He tapped his belt with a grin, but he kept his eyes trained on me all the way to the back door.
I relieved myself in the yard, looking up to survey the blank windows of the guest chambers that surrounded it on three sides. I had an uneasy feeling that both Sukie and the poison were somewhere on the premises, but I knew I wouldn’t get far if I attempted to search the place with Jan Boodt watching me. I would come back this evening and let him take a few thalers off me at cards; he would be less guarded if he thought he had the upper hand. It occurred to me that, even if Greta had mentioned my assistant to her sister, neither Magda nor Jan had, to my knowledge, set eyes on Besler. While Jan was presiding over his game in the cellar and Magda busy with customers in the tap-room, I could send the boy to comb the rest of the inn; if anyone challenged him, he could put on his best guileless expression and claim he was lost.
For this to work, I then realised, I could not be seen eating with Besler at the Winged Horse; it was fortunate that I had arrived early. I would have to intercept him and Benjamin before the Boodts could connect them with me. As I headed across the yard to the gate, I passed the stable lad wiping down the flanks of a sweating horse that had clearly ridden up the hill at a clip. The boy greeted me and I nodded to him in return, then I stopped abruptly and turned back.
‘What’s that?’ I pointed to the cloth in his hand.
He looked at it, shrugged, and went back to wiping the animal, whose breath steamed from its flaring nostrils as it danced on the spot.
‘Can I see?’ I persisted, and before he could argue, I snatched the rag from him and held it up by the corners. I knew immediately where I had seen it before, and my stomach lurched. It was a striped woollen shawl.
‘Where did you get this?’ I demanded, taking a step towards him and causing the horse to throw its head back in alarm.
He pulled at the bridle to steady the animal and frowned at me. ‘I found it.’
‘Where?’
He gestured to the stable block. ‘In one of the stalls, earlier today. The mistress sometimes throws out old things that can’t be mended to use for the horses. Why?’ Then his face fell. ‘Oh God, does it belong to one of the guests?’
‘I think so,’ I said, trying to keep calm. ‘Best if you let me return it.’
‘They must have dropped it. I just assumed – oh well, I’m done with it anyway. Rough old thing – can’t think why they’d want it back. Come on, girl, let’s get you fed.’ He slapped the horse’s neck and led it away, while I folded the shawl into a small square and considered what to do.
I was certain it was Sukie’s. It suggested that my instinct had been correct; the girl had come here seeking Magda’s help. Was she still here? As well as the guest rooms there were all the outbuildings, attics and storerooms: any number of places to hide a child, with or without her consent. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Jan Boodt watching me from the window of the tap-room. I tucked the shawl into my belt and hurried out through the gate, hoping he hadn’t seen.
Why had he made that insinuating comment about Sukie’s disappearance? Did he know something, or was he merely toying with me, wanting me to think he did? If Magda had hidden the girl and the elixir without Jan’s knowledge, I could ruin everything by blundering in. I believed Magda was sincere when she swore she wouldn’t let anyone harm Sukie, but since she clearly couldn’t even protect herself from Jan’s fists, I wasn’t sure how much that assurance was worth.
I needed to speak to Magda, but for now there was no way to do so privately. I would have to keep to my original plan of asking Besler to search the inn later; it was all I could come up with, though midnight was more than twelve hours away. I had to hope Sukie would be safe until then.
As if I had summoned him by my thoughts, I emerged into the square and immediately collided with Besler on the corner. He was flushed and panting; apparently he had run all the way from the river. I grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around and marched him smartly away from the tavern before he could even muster the breath to speak.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked, when we had turned a corner and he could manage words.
‘You can’t go in there for now,’ I said. ‘I’ll explain later. Where’s Benjamin?’
‘Still looking for David. He said he can’t spare the time to eat with us. But that’s not why I ran up the stairs.’
‘No? Why, then?’
‘There’s a boatman down at the river says he’s got news for you. They think they’ve found something.’
I stared at him. ‘A body?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me. But he said to hurry.’
‘It must be David,’ I said. ‘Come on.’
NINETEEN
‘How did this boatman know to give you a message for me?’ I asked as we hurried down the Old Castle Stairs. ‘Have you been shouting our business all over town again?’
‘No.’ Besler looked indignant. ‘But he was very chatty. He asked what I was doing in Prague, I said I was here with my master, a famous Italian writer, and he mentioned he’d brought you over earlier. Then he told me one of his fellows had seen something last night that might interest you, and you should come quickly.’
I felt a lurch of relief as we approached the riverbank; if Martin Novak had found a body, surely he would have alerted the authorities. This sounded more like he had turned up a witness, which could be useful, though I had no doubt he intended to squeeze me as much as he could in return for information that might well turn out to be nothing. But when I reached the jetty and saw the look on Novak’s face – all the salty good humour drained from it – I revised that view. Whatever he had found, it was not good news. Beside him was a younger man with large ears, dressed in boatman’s garb, whose expression was even more stricken; he was twisting a shapeless dark object between his hands and glancing over his shoulder as if he expected to be arrested at any moment.
‘What news, then?’ I asked, lowering my voice.
Novak leaned in, but before he could speak, the younger man launched into a monologue in Czech, gesticulating frantically in the direction of the Stone Bridge. Though I couldn’t understand his words, it was clear from his tone that he was on the defensive. I saw Besler’s eyes widen in response. Novak held his hand up for silence and eventually the young man subsided and dropped his gaze to his boots.
‘This idiot,’ Novak said with emphasis, ‘was supposed to be working the river last night. But he thought it was a good idea to tie up his boat and nip off into the trees for half an hour.’ The young man attempted to speak; Novak stopped him with a look. ‘As he was coming back to the jetty, he saw two men getting into his boat. He shouted after them, but they set off upriver.’ He nodded towards the bridge. ‘As they pulled away, the one who wasn’t rowing tried to stand up in the boat and was pointing back this way, like he was protesting. Lude here thinks it was your friend, the Jew.’
‘David,’ I said.
‘Him. The one who’s missing. He’s taken him over at night before, right, Lude?’ He spoke rapidly to the young man and Lude nodded eagerly, though he still looked terrified.
‘So – did he follow them?’
‘He ran along the bank as far as he could – they weren’t going too fast because it’s against the current, though he says the man rowing was strong. But there’s a point before the bridge where the tow path runs behind houses, and he lost sight of them there.’
‘He didn’t recognise the rower?’
‘No. Lude says he had a cloak and a scarf around his face.’
‘Of course he did.’ I did not even have the energy to curse at this. ‘So what did Lude do?’
‘Crossed on to the bridge to see if there was any sign of them, but it was too dark. All he could see were a few bobbing lanterns on the water. So he comes back here to the jetty and waits like a turnip, praying to St Anthony of Padua, and after about an hour, miracle of miracles, what should come drifting back down, no one in it, but Lude’s boat? All in one piece, except a few scratches where it had struck the bank. Both oars laid neatly inside.’
‘And it was completely empty?’
‘Not completely.’ Novak exchanged a few words with Lude and the boy held out to me the object he’d been wringing between his hands. I recognised it immediately: David’s rabbit fur hat, the one he had been wearing the night before.
‘Only this in the boat?’ I asked. Lude glanced at Novak and the older man grimaced.
‘That and some blood.’
‘Madonna.’ I had tried to stay hopeful for David, but deep down I had feared the worst. Poor Sarah. ‘How much blood? A lot? A little? Spattered all over, or pooled in one spot?’
Novak relayed this and Lude held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
‘One small stain in the bottom of the boat,’ Besler translated.
Then perhaps the wound was not significant, I thought; there might still be a chance of finding him. Although if this was the same person who had killed Ziggi Bartos, he was clever enough to avoid covering himself in his victim’s gore. A man with experience of killing, Hajek had said. Or of anatomy. A soldier or a doctor.
‘Can I see the blood?’ I asked.
Lude shook his head vehemently.
‘He’s washed the boat out,’ Novak said.
