Pink Snow Read online

  Kathryn laughed. “By all means – if you can squeeze into this corner.”

  “No problem,” he said airily, and pulled the neighboring table to butt against her triangular one. “Now we are at the same table to all intents and purposes. How do you do. I am Robert Farr.”

  Kathryn introduced herself whilst studying him. He appeared to be doing the same with her, but for a different reason.

  “You don’t seem to be shaken by your experience. I heard about it at dinner last night. What an awful way to start a holiday!”

  She smiled. “I don’t remember much about it, to tell you the truth – which is probably a good thing. I’m not on holiday, as it happens. This is really a business trip.”

  “Good lord! One is so used to men doing that kind of thing, it still seems slightly unlikely for an attractive young girl. What sort of business are you in – or is it all extremely confidential?” He leant back while Maria served his breakfast, and. conversation was halted for a moment. Kathryn poured herself more coffee, then apologized to him.

  “I think I have misled you slightly. I’m not a high-powered executive who jets her way around the world. My business is writing. I’m quite successful with children’s books – fairy tales and bedtime stories – that type of thing. I have been asked by my publisher to do a volume of six folk tales from other lands. They are to be lesser-known stories which are not already in print. A very talented young artist is doing the illustrations and has captured the feeling of the first two even in his preliminary sketches. It’s the most exciting book I have done so far. If I can get . . .” She broke off. “I’m boring you.”

  “Not at all,” said her table companion. “I take it you are hoping to find another gem here.” He broke a roll with strong fingers. “What made you select Mosskirch?”

  “I didn’t. It selected me.” She made a rueful face. “I intended stopping here on my way to Innsbruck, but this car accident has altered my plans. After looking from my window this morning, I’m glad it did. The mountains are so impressive.” A look at his heavy Tyrolean sweater in red, white and black, his thick trousers and heavy boots made her add. “I’m surprised you are not out already. I take it you are here for the mountaineering?”

  A shadow crossed his fine-drawn features. “I wish to God I were! We have at least one thing in common, Kathryn. I have doctor’s orders not to do anything more than low-level walking.”

  “How frustrating for you!”

  “It is, rather, but I’m taking the opportunity to do some scenic photography. It’s a hobby of mine.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have much luck today.”

  “Pardon?” He looked startled.

  “With the photography.”

  “Oh.” A smile broke through. “No, I’ll have to do some exploring instead. If you are spending a little time here perhaps you’d like to come with me one day when you feel up to it. I’ll know where the best walks are by then.”

  “I’ll look forward to that, and if there is a peasant at the end of one of them with a folk tale to tell, I shall be delighted.”

  After lunch the mist gradually cleared until there were merely a few lacy shrouds clinging to the highest pinnacles. Kathryn was unprepared for the spectacle which was revealed by the lifting of the nebulous curtain. Grey jagged peaks stretched way up into the cool blue of the October sky, and great flats of snow lay on the surfaces which were denied the warmth of the sun. Feeling exhilarated, Kathryn gazed at the beauty of it all as she walked to the garage where Peter was busily hammering the underside of a Porsche. She had to tap him on the ankle several times before he emerged, grimy but undeniably handsome, to greet her.

  In good English and with every ounce of his considerable male charm, he told her regretfully that it would be at least four or five days before he could make a start on her car. Although it was German-made, he hadn’t the spare part needed and would have to get it from Innsbruck when he went in on the Saturday. To Kathryn, the prospect of being stranded in Mosskirch for a while was not a bit daunting and, for once in his life, Peter was taken aback by a female reaction.

  “Take as long as you please. It really doesn’t matter in the least,” she said gaily.

  Her return to the Gasthaus was uphill all the way, so she took it slowly. There was a friendly “Grüss Gott” from everyone she met, but what completely won her over was the bob or curtsey she received from the children when she said hello to them. The main street which ran through the village reflected the character of Mosskirch. Set amid hotels and Gästhäuser were stores selling walking gear or ski equipment. Windows were full of rucksacks, boots, coils of rope, small picks, anoraks and thick sweaters, or they displayed ski-pants, woollen tea-cosy hats with pompons on top, and a varied assortment of skis and sticks.

  Kathryn had noticed one such shop next to the Gasthaus; a very large one which displayed high-class equipment and clothing of the type which could only be afforded by the après-ski set. Mosskirch was obviously a resort favored only by genuine sports addicts and not by package tourists!

  She gazed around her and marvelled at men who could spend their lives on these awesome peaks. Even with her stranger’s eyes she picked out stripes of plain green cutting through the pines cloaking the slopes and guessed they were ski-runs. Beside these stripes were rows of metal pylons bearing ski-lifts and spreading their giant legs across the mountainside like lines of gymnasts doing “legs-apart-spring”.

  She liked the comparison and smiled to herself at the thought. Her mother accused her of having an intellect no greater than the children who read her books, but Mrs. Davis had never had a flight of fancy in her life and was incapable of understanding her daughter’s. This reminder of her parent marred the last few steps to the Gasthaus, and Frau Petz, on seeing how her guest’s shoulders drooped, suggested that she should sit on the balcony at the back while she drank a cup of tea.

  It was warm and pleasant just lazing in the unexpected warmth of the afternoon, and Kathryn felt the tension brought on by recollection of her mother gradually easing away. Frau Petz seemed in a talkative mood when she brought the tea and it took little effort to persuade her to sit in the other chair by the small wooden table.

  “You live in a beautiful village, Frau Petz,” Kathryn said. “Have you been here all your life?”

  “Oh yes, it has not changed. Only the people who come to visit us are different, but we are lucky more than other places in the mountains. Mosskirch is too small and has not the things which many people want. So, here we have mountains for the walking and skiing, and also the fish in the river to catch. It is quiet and nice. We have not the grand hotels with loud music, the big swimming pool, tennis courts and . . . this one that you play so!” She swung her hands expressively.

  “Golf,” supplied Kathryn.

  “Yes, golluf! All these we do not have – which is good.”

  “Very good,” agreed Kathryn. “Who wants them when there is scenery like this! What a perfect backdrop of mountains. Some of them must be very high.”

  “Yes. Over here is Glasspitze.” The Austrian woman indicated a sharply-pointed mass which nosed its way into the sky higher than any other. “He is called so because his top is always of ice and snow and cannot be climbed. Then comes Schwesterlein nearby. See, he is much smaller. Many men come in the summer to climb him.”

  The narrative was broken at that moment by a high-pitched effeminate “toot” which drew their eyes towards the far side of the valley. There, rounding a bend was a scarlet train on the single track looking like something from toytown. Kathryn watched fascinated as it made its way past dazzling white, flower-bedecked chalets, two ancient churches, a group of grey-brown munching cows, and in to the small station at the bottom of the village.

  “Where does that train go?” she asked eagerly.

  Frau Petz smiled at her interest and pointed. “That way to Innsbruck – here to Sternsee. He rides five . . . six times a day.”

  With another little whi
stle, the scarlet carriages went on their way again, winding along the track which ran beside the river, then through a gap in the mountains and on to the next village. I shall take a trip on that train before I leave, Kathryn vowed. Who knows what I may find at the end of it?

  “This one here beside us, he is Karlstein,” continued Frau Petz indicating another huge rise of rock. Kathryn had to tilt her head back to see the summit of Karlstein which reared up to the left of the Gasthaus. It was an impressive sight this afternoon. Dark pines clad the middle slopes, then cleared to reveal gaunt rock and a cap of snow shining in the sunshine with a myriad points of light. At the very top stood a cross outlined against the blue infinity of sky.

  As she watched, the sun caught some reflective object and a light winked from between the trees.

  “Is there a road up there?” she asked curiously.

  “Yes. It runs to the restaurant at the top. You see the chairs which ride up the mountain? Today they are still, but if the weather is good, then shall they move on Saturday.”

  Kathryn followed her pointing finger and could just make out small colored blobs which followed a line of clear green running through the woods. These must be the chairs which took walkers or sightseers to the summit in the summer. If there was a restaurant at the top then there must be an access road to take up supplies. She made a note to travel on the chairlift that weekend. The view from the summit must be breathtaking. Perhaps Robert Farr would be interested in going with her. His doctor wouldn’t term it too strenuous, surely!

  Five minutes later, Frau Petz said she had been lazy for too long, collected the tray and vanished inside leaving Kathryn with her thoughts still on Robert:

  “Grüss Gott!”

  The voice made her swivel round in surprise. Standing on the terrace at the rear of the sports shop was a man dressed in black trousers and cardigan, and a green-and-white-checked shirt.

  “Grüss Gott!” she repeated awkwardly.

  He leant on the wrought-iron railing and smiled across at her. “Oh, you are English! In that case, good afternoon! You must be the girl who ran into a tree up on Kapellerpass.”

  “Yes, so I am told. I don’t remember much about it.”

  “You should not drive around the mountains on your own unless you are experienced,” he told her gravely, unaware of how very much she didn’t want to be told what she should or should not do. His frank glance ran over her. “You do not seem to have hurt yourself much. Nothing is broken.”

  “I’m feeling perfectly well, thank you.” She turned her head away in a discouraging manner, but he was not put off by that.

  “It is a bit late in the year for a girl to have a holiday alone. The swinging season is over. On the other hand, if you have come for winter sports, you are too early.”

  She pretended not to hear him, but he went on, “No, of course you would not come to ski alone. Perhaps you have friends in my country?”

  Unable to ignore him any longer, she swung her head round and said, “I am in Austria for business reasons. I need some research for my next book . . . and I also thought I would find peace and quiet here,” she added pointedly.

  His head tilted to one side and he screwed up One eye in the sunlight. “You are very young to be an author.”

  “I happen to be extremely clever,” she threw at him, bringing a hastily wiped-off smile to his face.

  “Oh! Are you perhaps making a geographical study of the Tyrol?”

  “Good heavens, no! I write fairy stories.” The minute the words were out she realized the mistake she had made, for he nodded consolingly.

  “I see. You are not a serious writer.”

  Nothing could have been more like a red rag to a bull than that disparaging reference to her profession, and she flared up.

  “I wouldn’t expect a shopkeeper to understand the arts, so I’ll make allowances for your ignorance on the subject, but I can assure you that writing for children is a very serious business. They are very critical.”

  Ha! she thought, that touched a nerve. He had stiffened at her words and the careless smile left his face.

  “Das ist sehr intressant! Wollen Sie mir davon beriehten?” he said swiftly.

  “Pardon?”

  “I am sorry. I must not expect an English girl to understand another language, so I will make allowances for your ignorance on the subject.”

  His quick comeback left her without words and they stared at each other across the distance of ten feet, unable to break the deadlock. The sound of heavy feet approaching through the Gasthaus gave her the perfect excuse to turn away, but she was surprised when she saw who had come on to the balcony. The two men were strangers, but had plainly come to see her. The taller of the two was quite young and dressed in a blue-grey uniform with a gun strapped round his waist. The middle-aged man wore a dark formal suit, and something about his manner stirred a tiny flutter of fear inside her.

  “Miss Davis?” he enquired pleasantly enough.

  “Yes.”

  “You permit that I sit here?” He indicated the other chair.

  “Of course, please do.” The fear was growing. The uniformed man was a member of the local police force, she felt certain, and the other must be connected with the law judging by his serious attitude. He introduced himself.

  “I am Inspector Schultz of the Kriminalpolizei from Innsbruck. I hear you had a car accident two days ago on Kapellerpass.”

  She nodded, thinking feverishly. Should she have reported the accident to the police? She had been told there was no other car involved, so it hadn’t occurred to her that it was necessary. Perhaps her car had caused an obstruction and she would be fined — but surely it didn’t warrant an Inspector from Innsbruck to deal with it!

  “Are you feeling quite well?”

  She came out of her thoughts to find the man watching her with concern. “Herr Doktor Hallstein has told me you are maybe suffering from . . .” he was stuck for the right word, “. . . that you do not remember correctly. I wish to ask you a few questions. It will not take long.”

  “I’m sorry. Please go ahead,” she said faintly.

  “First of all, will you please tell me all that you recall about your journey over the pass.”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. On the way up I was hoping nothing would go wrong with the car on such a lonely road. I know very little about cars, you see.”

  He nodded unsmiling.

  “I passed the restaurant at the top. I remember thinking I ought not to stop because it was getting dark. Oh yes,” she added quickly, “I saw the lights in the valley getting closer and closer with every bend.” Her hands spread out in apology. “That’s all, Inspector.”

  “I see. That is a great pity. I had hoped you might have been of more help, Miss Davis.”

  “Have I broken the law in some way?” she asked anxiously. “Is that why you have come to see me?”

  The Austrian cleared his throat. “I regret to tell you that a man has been found dead not far from where you crashed your car. His injuries suggest that he was struck quite violently, and we think it possible that you are responsible for his death.”

  Chapter Two

  The dampening mist of the earlier part of the day returned now, casting a film over the brightness around her. The Inspector’s implication came as a shock. Since waking in the Gasthaus she had drifted along in a pretence of having simply arrived for a holiday. Thinking back, she realized the accident had been thrust to the recesses of her mind, either purposely or subconsciously.

  At the garage this afternoon, she had not shown any interest in her car – had not even asked to see it – and when Peter told her it would be several days before he could start work on it, had received the news with happy indifference. Her mind, full of the enchantment of this Austrian village, of Robert Farr, and her new-found freedom from her mother had shied from considering the more serious aspects of her arrival.

  The Inspector came into focus again after her long blank stare, but she
had no idea what to say. All she could manage was a bald apology.

  “The news has upset you, Miss Davis.”

  She ran a distracted hand through her dark curls. “I can hardly take in what you are telling me. Why didn’t the doctor say what really happened? Everyone treated me with friendly sympathy as if I had made a foolish error of judgement while driving – and all the time a man lay dead because of me. Frau Petz told me her husband found me in the car. Why didn’t she say I had killed someone? It’s not as if I were dangerously ill and couldn’t be told any unpleasant facts. After this delay, it comes as a terrible shock.” A thickness in her throat made her voice start to wobble. She swallowed quickly, forcing down a rising sense of panic. “Is he . . . was he a man from the village?”

  “Apparently not, Miss Davis. Unfortunately, we have no way of telling his identity. His pockets were completely empty. That is why I hoped you could have been of assistance.” He reached into an inner pocket and took out an envelope. “I have a photograph of the body. I must ask you to look at it in case you recognize him at all. It may possibly bring back a recollection of what occurred.” He handed her a glossy picture.

  It was not pleasant! The sight of the battered body brought back the obstruction to her throat preventing her from speaking. She handed back the picture with a shake of her head, thankful it was not a color print. The man was completely unknown to her – yet she had been responsible for ending his life. The thought was too much to bear.

  “Why didn’t someone tell me?” she cried. “I have been walking around enjoying myself unaware of this . . . this . . . disaster!”

  Inspector Schultz shifted in his seat. “Perhaps I should have explained to you that it was not at first known that a person had died. A mountain walker discovered the body today not far from the spot where you crashed your car. It seems likely that the victim dragged himself along the path hoping to reach the village, but died from his injuries before he had gone far. Please do not distress yourself so much. I only said it is possible that you are responsible for his death. I have no proof. So far, I have simply joined several coincidental facts together, that is all. I was told that a young English lady had been found in a car after an accident which took place at around the, same time that the man died, and not far from the spot where the body was found. Unfortunately, when I visited the garage just now, the young mechanic had already straightened the radiator and bumper, and had resprayed the bonnet, so I was unable to search for any signs that you had hit anyone. I was also disappointed at the scene of the crash. Due to heavy rain two nights ago, any bloodstains or other marks had been destroyed.” He stood up. “Dr. Hallstein tells me there is no way of knowing when you will remember fully the details of the accident – maybe never – but will you please contact me at the Gendarmerie in Mosskirch if any detail, no matter how small, comes back to you. It is a matter of great importance.”