Trouble in the alps, p.9
Trouble in the Alps, page 9
Atalanta had offered to keep Raoul company at the edge of the lake. She was not a great ice skater and she didn’t want to take numerous falls and have the bruises to show for it.
It surprised her that Margot had joined in and that she was quite a good ice skater too. But then, the lake was small and it didn’t cost her much exertion to do a few rounds. Theresa was struggling and constantly asking people to skate with her so she could latch onto them. Eva stayed out of her reach, calling out that she was holding her back and she had to find someone else to help her. An older woman whom Atalanta hadn’t really met before lent Theresa a helping hand. Atalanta thought she had seen her before, on that first day when she had arrived to find the women crowding Raoul. But she had not been introduced to her, yet.
As if he read her mind, Raoul said with a nod in that direction, “That is the writer’s secretary. Her name is Karin, I think. I cannot remember her last name.” He frowned a moment and then glanced at her. “Sometimes I hear her typing. I think Frau Bergreiter dictates her books and then the secretary has to get it all on paper for the publishers. She told me a day or two ago that there is a deadline for a new novel coming up.”
“Oh, I see.” It was good that he remembered all this information. It seemed like it was becoming easier for him to recall normal events that happened on a day-to-day basis, but he was still struggling to piece together his past. “Did she mention where this one is set? Last night I read part of a book set in Egypt. It was fascinating with a lot of mythology and bits about grave robbers. I don’t know how accurate all of it is but I had a good time reading it.”
“And you didn’t dream afterwards that you were stuck in a tomb?” Raoul asked cynically. He looked at the skaters as he continued, “I had another nightmare where I was trapped. Something was pressing against my chest and I couldn’t get away.”
“Perhaps it’s memories of the accident. If it surfaces, little by little, you may also start to remember other things.” Atalanta rubbed her hands together as she formulated the next question. “Did Maurizio decide where you were going to ski?”
“I suppose so. He knows this area much better than I do. But I can’t remember much of the preparations, let alone whether he discussed anything with me about the route.”
Atalanta nodded slowly. If Maurizio knew the area well, he might have picked a dangerous slope for their skiing trip knowing full well that the adventurous Raoul with his love of speed would go down without holding back. In such a case an accident would be easy to bring about.
Still, she wasn’t convinced that was what had happened. If Maurizio wanted Raoul’s spot on the team, there were other more reliable methods to incapacitate him.
There was something else on her mind too. With the newspapers speculating about the accident and this reporter Alexander Hansen openly voicing discussion about a replacement, Raoul could learn of it and get suspicious of Maurizio. Would Maurizio have taken those chances?
She asked, “Are there any newspapers delivered to the hotel?”
“I suppose so, but I never see them. Maurizio claims he has to protect me from shock. The doctor has warned him that anything that upsets me might make my condition worse. I cannot imagine that an earthquake or shipwreck on the other side of the world would very much upset me but…”
“He just wants to take good care of you,” Atalanta said with a smile. “You are very valuable to the team.”
“Is that so?” Raoul glanced at her. “I am not physically fit. At all. Each day that passes takes us closer to the season’s start. They should be pushing me to get fit. I could do some things you know. Lift some weights or do a little run.” He gestured down a path. “That leads to some grotto. It was used in the past for storage, I think. I could run up and down just to see how well I hold up.”
“And get a splitting headache so you have to retire to bed? No. The season may start soon, but you have to think about the entire year. If you force something now…”
“You sound just like Maurizio. Did you agree on this?” He cast her a reproachful look and then suddenly asked, “Do you like him?”
“Maurizio?” Atalanta was surprised. “How can I like him? I barely know him.”
“Well, you must have some opinion about him. Doesn’t one always judge people pretty quickly? I mean, in general one does have a feeling about them after a few exchanges. What does your feeling say?”
“I can’t quite gauge him yet. He seems to be friendly but distant. I am, of course, a perfect stranger to him.” She waited a moment and added, “Perhaps he feels I am some sort of threat because I know you better than he does? I can’t tell.” She wished she could ask him if Maurizio had ever acted like he was jealous of Raoul’s position in the team but she already knew what his answer would be. He wouldn’t know. There was no reliable information to be had from him.
“Dieter!” Margot called the name with excitement and waved fervently. Atalanta looked behind them to the hotel. A tall, handsome, middle-aged man was approaching from across the terrace, carrying a bunch of flowers in his hand. He smiled with real warmth as he watched Margot skate to the edge of the lake. She leaned over to take her skates off.
“Don’t exert yourself,” he called out to her. “I am here to stay all weekend. There is no rush.”
Margot huffed in frustration as she lowered herself into a sitting position to remove her skates. The man stopped where Raoul and Atalanta were seated and said, “Ah, Herr Lemont, still here recuperating? Are you feeling any better?”
“Unfortunately no,” Raoul said with a grim expression. “My head is still very sore and I am not allowed to do anything. I am bored to death.”
“I am sure you will find something to amuse yourself with. Margot can spend weeks here and she never gets bored.” The man looked at his wife with a fond expression. She was getting up again to come and meet them. Her breathing came in pants as she reached them. The man pushed his flowers into her hands. It was a mixed bouquet of pink roses and white alstroemeria. She beamed down on them.
“My favourites. I don’t know why you keep bringing them. I mean, every weekend…”
“Because you never cease to enjoy getting them.” He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “I just don’t want to rob myself of the pleasure of seeing your happiness.” There was a hint of concern in his eyes as he studied her closer. “Have you been resting enough? I know the deadline is approaching and you also want to do things with your friends but…”
“I am fine. I can handle it.” Margot sounded a little defensive. Her breathing still rasped and she coughed, holding up the flowers to hide her face.
Her husband sighed. “Well, there is no stopping you anyway, not once you put your mind to it.” He looked across the lake. Eva was twirling her arms up in the air. She seemed to be good at everything she did; a very sporty woman.
Margot followed his gaze and immediately her expression changed to anxious. She put a hand on his arm. “Shall we go inside? I want hot chocolate and we can talk.” She slipped her arm through his, pulling him along.
Atalanta rose from her chair and said, “Oh, Margot, could you introduce me to your husband? You have talked about him so much and with such affection that I just have to meet him.”
Margot flushed. “I am so sorry. How rude of me not to introduce him right away. This is my husband, Dieter Bergreiter.”
“The husband of the famous author,” Bergreiter said with a wink at Atalanta. “I am used to people viewing me like that. Of course I have a profession of my own, but it is a boring one.”
Atalanta looked at Margot, who said with a shrug, “He is a banker. But don’t tell anyone because they always want to borrow money from him.” She looked at her husband again and said sharply, “You are not going to indulge anyone who wants to talk about money troubles, are you? I want to have you all to myself this weekend.”
“I am here to please you,” Bergreiter said and led her away.
Raoul said with a grimace, “A most devoted couple. They are so in love with each other it almost makes me queasy.”
“It’s good to know true love does exist.” Atalanta sat down again. She saw that Eva stood very still on the ice, watching Margot and her husband go inside. There was a look of interest in her eyes and something Atalanta could not put a name to. Glee perhaps? A sort of malign amusement? But why would Eva feel that way?
Raoul wrapped his shawl tighter round his neck. “Are you not cold?”
“Not at all.” She was wearing the red coat she had worn when they were together in Salzburg but he didn’t seem to remember. She fidgeted with the white fur muffler.
Raoul leaned closer and said, “Red becomes you.”
A flush of pleasure rose to her cheeks. “Really?”
“My memory might have suffered, but there is nothing wrong with my eyesight. You are a very attractive woman.”
“That is a nice compliment, but so are the other ladies.” Atalanta nodded in the direction of Eva and Theresa.
Raoul shook his head. “Eva Reuter is not an attractive woman. Oh, she is good-looking, I agree, but there is something about her I don’t like. Something cold and calculating, perhaps?”
Atalanta tilted her head. “Do you feel that way because she married a much older man, apparently for his fortune?”
“No. I had no idea that she had. Someone must have told me but I of course forgot. I am not talking about the past but about the present.”
“The present?” Atalanta queried.
“Yes. She is very friendly with Maurizio, but I have also seen her flirt with the bartender, the ski instructor and every man in the place. Even Margot Bergreiter’s husband. The poor man didn’t know what to do.”
Atalanta recalled that Eva had described Dieter Bergreiter as a fiery Italian type. She had even stated that if she were married to such a man, she wouldn’t look at anyone else. Had it been one of many such comments or was Eva really interested in Bergreiter and were her advances painful to him?
“Still, he must be used to female attention,” she mused. “He is quite handsome and his wife spends a lot of time here recuperating. When he goes to dinner parties and soirees alone…” Atalanta fell silent, wondering with a niggle of suspicion if Bergreiter’s kindness to his wife, his attentiveness with her favourite flowers and all, was born from guilt. Did he flirt with other women when his wife wasn’t around? Did he have affairs? It was quite common for wealthy men and he was alone a lot. He had also mentioned that he was often seen only as the husband of the famous author. Perhaps that also grated on him? Did he look for ways to assert himself? His importance, his self-worth?
She almost had to laugh. Here she was supposing things about a man she had only met five minutes ago. She knew nothing about him, or about Margot and their marriage. She had to stop analysing and focus on Raoul.
But when she went inside a few minutes later to ask someone to bring hot chocolate out to her and Raoul, she found Dieter Bergreiter at the reception desk. The clerk was nowhere in sight, but he was not alone. Eva Reuter was right next to him. She put her hand on his arm and talked to him in a low, urgent voice.
Atalanta sidestepped so she could stay out of their line of vision but could still see Bergreiter’s expression. Was he interested in Eva? Were they even closer than they pretended to be to the outer world? But why then was Eva addressing him here, in full view of anyone who came in?
Eva stepped back and said something. Her posture exuded self-confidence. Bergreiter’s features were tight, as if he had heard unpleasant news. Eva turned and walked away with quick steps. He seemed to want to go after her, then changed his mind.
Atalanta decided to approach and take him by surprise. “Herr Bergreiter.”
He spun around, his eyes still wide with something close to shock. “Ah, Fräulein uh… Did my wife mention your name?”
“No, she was so eager to introduce you that she forgot to mention my name to you.” Atalanta reached out her hand. “I am Atty Ford. You must forgive me as this is quite forward of me and your wife just said you must not speak to anyone about money matters, but … I am looking to invest. Not in the stock market, obviously, but in something more reliable. Bonds perhaps? I wondered if you could give me a few recommendations.”
Bergreiter blinked. He seemed to still be reeling. But he forced himself to smile at her and said, “I could of course see what I can do for you, but I must inform you that I usually only handle large estates and businesses. I am not the right man to speak to you about small, personal investments, to save a little money for a rainy day.”
“Oh, we’re not talking about a small investment. I was thinking of something in the region of one hundred thousand pounds? You must forgive me that I think in British pounds but you can of course estimate the number in any currency you like.”
Bergreiter stared at her, then he said haltingly, “But of course. Maurizio wouldn’t let just anyone stay here.” He straightened up and smiled more warmly. “We can sit down together later today and speak about it, Fräulein Ford. I will be happy to help. Now, if you will excuse me, I must not keep my wife waiting.”
“Of course not,” Atalanta said sweetly. “Margot is such a dear.”
Bergreiter nodded and took his leave.
Atalanta’s heart was pounding at her bold move. But, like she had said to Franco last night, money always mattered, and she wanted to learn more from Bergreiter about Maurizio Dulce and this hotel. She could only hope he would have some useful information.
Chapter Nine
Margot had never looked so lively as over dinner that night. She wore a vibrant orange dress and was talking a lot, gesturing wildly and drinking more wine than her husband thought advisable. At least, Atalanta noticed his concerned looks whenever Margot took another sip from her glass. But he didn’t try to stop her from either drinking or chatting and the atmosphere was relaxed.
After dinner, the gentlemen wanted to play billiards, but Dieter Bergreiter turned to Atalanta and said this was a moment as good as any to sit down to chat about her concern.
Margot drew up an eyebrow. “What concern?”
“Fräulein Ford has a financial matter to discuss with me. Yes, dear, I know you told me not to give advice to strangers, but Fräulein Ford is not really a stranger, is she? She is one of your friends and you know I am always there for your friends.”
As he said this, Eva made a ridiculing sound, almost like she was snorting with laughter but suppressing it with an effort.
Margot glanced at her, turning red in the face. Theresa quickly drew Eva aside, suggesting they play cards.
Bergreiter took Atalanta to another room where they could speak in private. Once he had closed the door, Atalanta’s stomach swirled with nerves. She really didn’t have that much money to invest and she had to prevent him from asking too many questions that would give her away. “This is such a beautiful old hotel,” she began quickly. “I understand it was previously used as a health resort?”
“Oh yes, Margot has been coming here for treatments for over twenty years. Her doctor referred her to it when it was still run by one of his colleagues. It was sold to that Italian businessman a few years ago. Margot actually pestered me to buy it so she could stay here year-round and invite friends over. She does love this place.”
“But you weren’t interested? You do not deal in real estate?” Atalanta asked.
“I do finance real estate purchases but I couldn’t see myself buying this and then having to think about exploiting it. I leave those headaches to others.” He smiled at her. “Now we must come to—”
Atalanta approached him quickly and looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Herr Bergreiter, I have not been totally honest with you. I do have money to invest but that is not what I want to talk about now. It is my friend Raoul Lemont. I am most concerned for his wellbeing. This blow to his head, his headaches and confusion … can you tell me whether he will be better again? I mean, you are no doctor, but you have been here before and you saw him then. Is he improving or getting worse?”
Bergreiter seemed to flinch under her insistence. “I am not the right person to ask. I have only met him very briefly. Margot spends so much time here and must have seen more of him. Why don’t you ask her?”
“Oh, I did ask her, but she is always so kind in her judgment of others. She thinks the best of everyone. She would never want to hurt my feelings and tell me something unpleasant. And I want an honest opinion.” Atalanta wrung her hands. “I have always thought Raoul’s profession was so dangerous, and now he really has had an accident.”
“I thought his accident happened while skiing.”
“Yes, the irony of it. He plays with his life every time he gets into that sportscar and then he takes a tumble while skiing…” Atalanta raised a hand to her temple as if she were still in shock. “I cannot understand how it happened. I wonder if Herr Dulce looked after him at all.”
“Oh, I am certain Maurizio takes his task seriously. This racing team is very important to his uncle.” Bergreiter fell silent a moment and then added, “You must have heard of Vincenzo Dulce. Everything he touches turns to gold.”
“To diamonds, rather?” Atalanta joked.
Bergreiter laughed softly. “Indeed.” He shifted his weight. “I don’t see how I can help you, Fräulein Ford, other than by saying that I have the fullest confidence in the Dulces to take good care of your friend.”
“Thank you, that puts my heart at ease a little. You see, I was approached by a reporter. A very nasty and insistent man. He asked me questions about Raoul’s condition and suggested that the Dulces were somehow to blame for it all. I didn’t believe him for one moment because I know what the press are like. Always digging for some hidden scandal to sell newspapers…”
