The Thief Lord Page 18

  “I told you,” Scipio answered. “I just wanted to look at the snow. And I ran after a cat. Mine is luckily feeling better; she’s eating again.”

  “Just as well I didn’t call the vet.” Dottor Massimo frowned. “Of course, all this running around in the middle of the night will have consequences. The maid is going to lock your door in the future. At least, as long as that silly snow is causing you to behave even more childishly than usual. Is that understood?”

  Scipio didn’t reply.

  “God, how I hate that stubborn face! If you only knew how stupid you look.” Scipio’s father turned abruptly. “I have to do something about that movie theater,” he said, walking away. “Abandoned children, probably all little thieves. At least the police seem to think so. Why didn’t that journalist tell me anything about it? Getz was his name, or something.”

  “The girl looked quite nice. And if the children don’t have a home, why shouldn’t they live in your movie theater? It’s empty anyway,” said Scipio.

  “My word, children sometimes say the oddest things. So it’s empty. Do you think that’s reason enough to let all the tramps in the city squat there?”

  “But what’s going to happen to them now?” Scipio felt himself getting hot. Then cold. Terribly cold. “You saw the girl. Can’t you take pity on her?”

  “No.” His father looked surprised. “What’s that girl to you? You usually only show that much concern for cats. Are you sure you don’t know her?”

  “No.” Scipio heard his voice getting louder. He couldn’t help himself. “For god’s sake, no!” he shouted. “Do I have to know her to feel sorry for her? Can’t you just help her? I thought you were such an important man in this city.”

  “Go to bed, Scipio,” his father answered, yawning behind his hand. “My lord, what a completely ruined evening.”

  “P-please!” Scipio stammered. Tears welled up in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to wipe them away. “Please, Father, don’t you know somebody who would take in a girl like that? She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s just all alone.”

  “Go to bed, Scipio,” his father cut him off. “I think you looked at the moon too much out there. Soon you’re going to start living by your horoscope, just like your mother.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with the moon!” Scipio was shouting now. “You have no idea!”

  But his father was already closing the bedroom door behind him.

  And so Scipio stood there and cried.

  35

  A terrible night lay behind Victor. The man he’d been following had gone from one bar to another until two o’clock in the morning. When he vanished into a house Victor had to stand around outside until dawn, the snow falling on him relentlessly. Victor felt as if he were made of ice from the knees downward, nothing but solid ice.

  “I’ll have a bath first,” he mumbled as he crossed the bridge close to his house. “With water hot enough to boil an egg.”

  Yawning, he searched his coat pocket for his keys. Perhaps he should find another job. The waiters in the cafés in St. Mark’s Square had to run around just as much, but at least they were home by midnight at the latest. And what about museum guides — why couldn’t he be a museum guide? They went home even earlier. He was so sleepy that it was only as they were about to leap at him that he noticed the three small figures crouching by the entrance to his flat. They looked scared, but then one of them poked a gun in his face. It was his own gun.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” he tried a soothing voice, while the three of them dragged him over to the door.

  “Open up, Victor!” Prosper hissed without moving the gun. But Victor just pushed the barrel out of his face and then fished the keys out of his pocket.

  “Would you be so kind as to explain to me what this fuss is all about?” he grumbled as he unlocked the door. “If this is some new game then I have to tell you that I’m a bit too old to find it amusing.”

  “Bo and Hornet have disappeared,” Mosca said breathlessly. “And Prosper thinks that you told the police about our hideout. Riccio thinks so too.”

  “Either the police, or my aunt,” Prosper added. His face was deathly pale, but his eyes seemed to plead with Victor to tell him that it wasn’t true.

  “Have you forgotten? I gave you my word!” Victor quickly wrangled the gun from Prosper’s icy hand. “Can’t you trust anyone anymore? Now come inside, before we become a tourist attraction.”

  They all trundled after him up the stairs.

  “I always knew it wasn’t you,” Mosca said as Victor ushered them into his apartment. “But Prosper …”

  “Prosper can’t think clearly at the moment,” Victor completed the sentence. “That’s quite understandable if his brother really has disappeared. But tell me: How could that happen? Were they on their own?”

  They sat down in the tiny kitchen. Victor brewed some coffee and gave the boys some olives while they told him what had happened since he had freed himself from their bathroom prison.

  Once they had finished telling him their story, Victor said, “You’re lucky I already know you. Otherwise I wouldn’t have believed a single word you’ve just told me. You break into someone’s house and then make a deal with the owner. With her approval you sell the loot and then you go for a cruise on the lagoon to find a mysterious merry-go-round. I’d love to have a word with that crazy Signora Spavento. To take a bunch of kids to the Isola Segreta. I mean, really!”

  “How could we have known that the Conte lived on that island of all places?” Mosca murmured meekly.

  “Doesn’t matter!” Victor frowned and rubbed his tired eyes. “What’s in that bag? Your reward?”

  Mosca nodded.

  “Show him the money,” Prosper said to him. “He won’t steal it.”

  Mosca hesitated, but then he put the bag on Victor’s kitchen table. When he opened it, Victor whistled quietly through his teeth. “And you’ve just run halfway across the city with that?” he muttered. He took one of the wads. “You’ve got some nerve!”

  He pulled out a bill, inspected it closely, and then held it in front of the kitchen light. “Hold on!” he said. “Someone’s taken you for a ride. This money’s not real.”

  The boys were dumbfounded. “Fake money?” Riccio yanked the money from Victor’s hand and looked at it. “I can’t see anything. Looks real to me.”

  “Well, it isn’t,” Victor answered. He reached into the bag and took another wad from it. “It’s all counterfeit,” he asserted. “And it’s not even a good forgery. Looks like someone made them with a color-copier. I’m sorry.” He threw the money back and sighed. The boys looked shocked.

  “All for nothing,” Riccio muttered. “The break-in, the trip across the lagoon. We nearly got shot, and for what? A pile of counterfeit money. Darn it!” He swiped the bag off the table. The wads of cash scattered all over Victor’s kitchen floor.

  “And now Hornet and Bo are gone as well!” Mosca buried his face in his hands.

  “Exactly!” Victor gathered the money from the floor and stuffed it back into the bag. “And that’s what we should be working on right now. Where are Bo and the girl?” He got up with a deep sigh and walked across into his office. The three boys, pale as ghosts, followed him.

  “The answering machine is blinking,” Mosca observed as they all stood in front of the desk.

  “One day I’ll throw that machine off the balcony,” Victor complained. He pressed play.

  Prosper immediately recognized the voice. He would have known Esther’s voice even if he had heard her announcing train times at Venice’s main station.

  “Signor Getz, this is Esther Hartlieb. Your case has resolved itself today. We finally managed to find our nephew with the help of an old lady who had seen our poster. Apparently Bo had been hiding for weeks in some dilapidated movie theater, together with some girl who didn’t want to give us her name. The police are taking care of her. As far as Bo is concerned, he is rather confused and quite thi
n. He hasn’t said anything about his brother’s whereabouts yet. Who knows, perhaps he’s just as angry with him as I am. We can talk about your fee in the next few days. We’ll be in the Sandwirth until the beginning of next week. Please call before you come. Good-bye.”

  Prosper stood completely still, as if he had just been turned to stone. Victor didn’t know what to say. He would have liked to say something to cheer the boy up. But he couldn’t think of anything.

  “What old lady?” Riccio asked in a small voice. “Darn it! Who could that be?”

  “Since yesterday, Prosper’s aunt has been distributing posters all over Venice,” Victor explained, “with a picture of Prosper and Bo.” He chose not to tell them who had taken that photograph. “There was also something on it about a generous reward. Haven’t you seen them?”

  The boys shook their heads.

  “Well, that old lady obviously did,” Victor concluded. “Maybe she lives near the movie theater. She could have seen you sneaking in and out of there. Perhaps she even thought she was doing a good deed when she called the poor boy’s aunt.”

  Prosper still hadn’t moved. He was looking out at Victor’s balcony. It had grown quite light by now, but the sky was gray and cloudy. “Esther is never going to let go of Bo,” he whispered. “Never.” He gave Victor a look of utter desperation. “Where is the Sandwirth?”

  Victor wasn’t sure he should tell him, but Mosca made that decision for him. “On the Riva degli Schiavoni,” he answered, “but what do you want there? You’d better come back to the hideout with us. We have to get our stuff before the police turn up again. Maybe in the meantime Victor can find out where the police have taken Hornet.” He looked inquiringly at Victor.

  The detective nodded. “Sure. A few phone calls will do it. Just give me her real name.”

  Riccio looked stunned. “We don’t know it.”

  “There’s a name written in some of her books,” Prosper said tonelessly. “Caterina Grimani. But that won’t do any good. They probably took her to some home, and you’ll never get her out of there again. Just like Bo.”

  “Prosper,” Victor got up and went over to him, “come on, it’s not the end of the world.”

  “It is.” Prosper opened the door. “I need to be alone right now.”

  “Wait!” said Riccio desperately. “We could take our stuff to Ida Spavento for the time being. She told us she would help, remember? Well, she’s probably not expecting us to turn up quite so soon, but we could at least give it a try.”

  “You try,” said Prosper. “I don’t care anymore.” Then he pulled the door closed behind him.

  36

  Riccio rang the bell and the housekeeper opened the door. His spiky head was hidden behind the huge box he was carrying.

  “Don’t I know you?” the lady grumbled suspiciously, pushing up her glasses.

  “Right!” Riccio gave her his broadest grin. “But this time I’m not here to see you, but Ida Spavento.”

  “Is that so?” The housekeeper crossed her arms in front of her enormous bosom. “That’s Signora Spavento to you, you rascal. And may I ask what you want from her?”

  “This should be interesting,” said Victor, who was standing behind Riccio with an even bigger box. All the children’s belongings had fitted into just three cardboard cartons. Mosca was carrying the third. The two kittens poked their heads out of Victor’s coat pockets.

  “Tell her that Riccio and Mosca are here. She’ll know who we are,” Riccio said.

  “Riccio and Mosca? That’s only two.” The big lady scrutinized Victor. “And is he your father?”

  “… their uncle,” Victor answered. “Could you please call Signora Spavento, before this box falls on my feet? It’s really quite heavy.”

  The housekeeper gave him such a stern look that Victor immediately felt like a little boy. But in the end off she went. When she returned she opened the door wordlessly and waved the three of them inside.

  Victor was curious about Ida Spavento. “She’s a bit weird,” Riccio had told him, “and she smokes like a chimney. But she’s really nice.”

  Victor wasn’t too sure about that. Going out in the lagoon with three children in the middle of the night to follow a mysterious man who had sent those little thieves into her house in the first place — no, that didn’t really sound nice to Victor. Crazy, maybe. But nice? No.

  But when he saw Ida kneeling on her living room carpet, wearing a sweater that was far too large for her, he liked her. However much he wanted not to.

  Ida was leaning over a lineup of photographs. She was pushing them around, swapping them, and sorting some of them out. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise!” she said as Victor and the boys entered. “I didn’t expect a visit from you quite so soon. What’s in those boxes, and where did you suddenly get an uncle from?” She pushed the photographs together and got up.

  Oh dear, Victor thought, she’s wearing gondola earrings.

  “We’re in a lot of trouble, Ida,” said Mosca. He put down his carton. Sighing, Riccio did the same.

  “Are the fat lady’s dogs here?” Riccio asked. “Because Victor has got some kittens in his coat.”

  “You mean Lucia’s dogs? No, we locked them out in the garden because they ate my chocolates.” Ida frowned as she looked at the boys. “What kind of trouble? What’s happened?”

  “Someone told the police about our hideout!” Mosca answered. “And the Carabinieri have taken Hornet and Bo. Prosper is desperate because …”

  “Hold on.” Ida put her photos on a little table. “I’m still not quite with it this morning. Let me see if I’ve got this right: You had a hideout, and the police have found it. Were they searching for you? I mean, because of the thefts?”

  “No!” Mosca cried. “Because of Bo. His aunt’s looking for him. But Bo wants to stay with Prosper. So they both ran away. And we took them in. And it was all OK until last night, but now someone has given our hideout away and Victor has found out that Bo has been taken by his aunt and the police have taken Hornet to the home of the Merciful Sisters and …”

  “… and the Conte gave us fake money,” Riccio reached into his jacket and held up a wad of cash. “It’s all fake.”

  Ida sank into the second best chair. “Oh, my lord!” she muttered.

  Victor couldn’t hold back any longer. “These children were in enough trouble already, Signora Spavento,” he said firmly, “and you’ve made it even worse! You had to drag them into this harebrained adventure of yours. A nighttime trip to the Isola Segreta …”

  “Victor, shut up,” Mosca interrupted.

  Ida had turned bright red under her dyed blonde hair. “You told your uncle everything?” she asked fiercely. “I thought we were friends …”

  “He’s not our uncle!” Riccio burst out. “Victor’s a detective. He wanted to come with us. And he helped us get our things. And he’s found out that the Carabinieri have taken Hornet to the Merciful Sisters.”

  “Hornet. That’s the girl who was here with you, right?” Ida fiddled with her earrings. “You know, I didn’t quite understand that thing about Bo and the aunt. Maybe you’ll have to explain it to me again when I’m a bit more awake. But as for Hornet — we should be able to do something about that.”

  Ida got up and fished one of the kittens out of Victor’s coat pocket. She carefully placed it on her shoulder and turned to Victor again.

  “Fine. What should we do?” She looked as if she expected an answer from him.

  Confused, Victor returned her gaze. “What? Us?” he stammered. “We can’t do anything. Although we could perhaps stop Prosper from jumping into the lagoon. It’s just not good enough leaving a bunch of children to look after themselves.”

  “Putting them in an orphanage doesn’t usually do them a lot of good either!” Ida frowned impatiently. “These children need help. Or do you think this whole mess is going to clear up by itself, Signor …?”

  “It’s Victor,” said Riccio. “You may also
call him Signor Getz.”

  Victor gave him an irritated look.

  “I should have kept you all here when you turned up in the middle of the night!” Ida said. “But I thought you were doing fine by yourselves. What nonsense! I just like to believe in fairy tales. I’ll make it up to you. Lucia will give you something to eat and then you can take your things upstairs. I have a spare room in the attic. Now, what are we going to do about Prosper and the little one? Can’t we do something?”

  “We definitely can’t get to Bo,” Victor answered sadly. “His aunt has got custody. But we should keep an eye on his brother. He did look rather desperate the last time we saw him. Riccio, do you think you could find Prosper, even if he’s not at the Hotel Sandwirth?”

  Riccio nodded. “I’ll find him,” he said. “And then I’ll bring him here.”

  “Fine.” Ida nodded. “That sounds better already. Mosca,” she turned to him, “I don’t know what your quarrel with Scipio is about, but I think you should call him and tell him what happened last night. Let him know that you’re here now. Can you do that?”

  Mosca nodded, unenthusiastically. “D’you think I should tell him about the fake money as well?” he asked.

  Ida shrugged. “He’ll have to find out sometime, right? And now to us.” She stubbed her finger against Victor’s chest. “How about us two getting moving and trying to get that girl out of the orphanage, Victor or Signor Getz, which do you prefer?”

  “Victor’s fine,” he grumbled. “But what makes you think it’s going to be that easy?”

  Ida put the kitten on the floor and gave him a wry smile. “Well, I do have a few connections,” she said, “but you don’t have to come along if you don’t want to. It’s just that on occasions like this two adults tend to look a bit more impressive.”