Pink Snow Page 6

  Back on the pavement, she accosted an old woman in a long coat and woollen shawl and pointed to the sign on the garage door.

  “Can you tell me what that means, please?” she asked smiling.

  The old woman chuckled and wagged her head. From the look on her face as she let out a stream of amused German, Kathryn guessed the Austrian imagined she was one of Peter’s hopeful girlfriends.

  “Will he be back this morning?” she asked slowly and deliberately in English. The woman shook her head and replied equally slowly and deliberately in German.

  Oh really! This is getting me nowhere, thought Kathryn angrily, when the old woman had the bright idea of holding up three fingers and pointing to the doors to indicate that they would be open then.

  “Oh, thank you,” cried Kathryn, sorry for her impatience. “Thank you very much.”

  Frustrated until three o’clock that afternoon in her attempt to tackle Peter, she set off to attack her second target.

  The sports shop was large and well-appointed, with a comprehensive range of clothing and equipment for all athletic activities. When Kathryn entered, Anton was deep in discussion with two men over several pairs of skis and didn’t look up for several minutes. When he did, his eyebrows lifted in surprise at his unexpected customer and with a quick word, he left the men examining the skis and walked over to her.

  “Good morning, Miss Davis. I imagine you have not come to buy anything,” he said calmly, summing up the stormy face beneath the dark curls.

  “I . . . I hadn’t counted on there being other people around,” she told him. “There is something I particularly wish to say to you.”

  “I see.” He thought for a minute then walked across to his customers, said a few sentences accompanied by a nod towards Kathryn, and beckoned her behind the counter. As she walked across, the two men bade her “Grüss Gott” and grinned, which made her flush angrily beneath the gaze of the shop’s owner.

  He led her through a door into a short passage which gave on to the long, low room she had been in yesterday afternoon, and invited her to sit down.

  “No, thank you. This won’t take long and I have no wish to accept your dubious hospitality again.”

  The glitter was appearing in his eyes once more, but it made no difference to the tirade she flung at him.

  “I haven’t worked out yet what part you play in this scheme to involve me in some sort of crime, but I shall find out in time. The man I am supposed to have killed, if there is such a man, was certainly not a harmless pedestrian taking an afternoon walk. Even a fool would deduce that – and I am no fool, as you will discover. Whether or not you were the person who tried to push me into that trough, there is no doubt you were very clever to bring me here so that you could work out your version of the incident with your brother-in-law before I went to the police. No wonder you had such a long conversation in a language I couldn’t understand! You had to be sure you both told the same tale. All that business about being called out as a member of the village rescue team was to cover up for the real reason why you collected me from the trout farm.”

  “And what was that reason?” he asked coldly.

  “So that your precious Franz Mitterbauer could report to Inspector Schultz that I am slightly off my rocker!”

  “I do not understand that sentence,” he snapped in a tone which suggested he had no intention of trying.

  “It means,” she said, feeling a sob gather in her throat, “it means that, through you, they think I am unbalanced . . . mad! Is that clear enough?”

  “Yes, quite clear.” His chin jutted forward aggressively and there was hauteur written all over his face. “I am inclined to agree with them. Have you finished what you came to say?”

  “Yes. I’ll go now.”

  “No, you will not. I have also something to say to you. You told me once that you are extremely clever, but now you are being a fool. You are in trouble in my country and have no one to turn to, so you suspect every person of trying to harm you. Perhaps you should come out from your fairy tale world and use your intelligence, Miss Davis. Some of us are trying to help you.” He turned on his heel and returned to his customers, leaving her trembling from the results of her anger. It was impossible to return through the shop, so she let herself into the garden and fled to her room where she burst into tears.

  By lunchtime one thing was quite determined; she was going up that mountain pass to have a look around by hook or crook. Had Robert arrived by car she would have asked him to take her, but she knew his journey had been by plane and rail. That left two possibilities. Either she could demand to use her own car if it was ready, or she could hire one. On second thoughts the latter might be the better idea. If Peter was mixed up in this it was advisable to keep her plans from him. It was a vain hope! In answer to her enquiries Maria told her there was only one car-hire firm in the village – Peter’s.

  “Would you like me to speak on the telephone to him?” she asked eagerly, wanting the excuse to talk to her lover.

  “I don’t think there is any point. The garage is closed until three this afternoon.”

  “I will ring the farm. Peter always stays there on Wednesday morning while his mother travels to Innsbruck for trading.”

  “All right. Thank you, Maria. Would you ask him first if my own car is ready. If not, I’d like to hire another Volkswagen, if possible. I’m more used to them than any other.”

  The Austrian girl hurried off on her errand while Kathryn ate her lunch. When she returned, the answer didn’t surprise the English girl.

  “I am so sorry, Miss Davis, your car will not be ready until Peter has been into Innsbruck on Saturday. He thought you did not mind about the delay when you visited him.”

  “Yes, that’s right. What about a hired car?”

  Her face fell. “Peter says they are all out at the moment. I cannot understand it. It is not busy in Mosskirch, yet all the cars are gone. It is most unusual. He is very sorry he cannot help you.”

  I bet he is, thought Kathryn grimly. “What about the next village; is there another firm I could try?”

  “Perhaps. Shall I ask Peter for the name?”

  “No, don’t bother,” said Kathryn, sure that all the cars from that firm would be booked too, according to Peter! While she ate lunch, she thought over the facts which confirmed her belief that Maria’s boyfriend was deliberately hiding evidence about her crash, and also served to harden her determination to drive up Kapellerpass. She wandered on to the balcony with her coffee, persuaded by Frau Petz to enjoy the sunshine which had broken through after the stormy night.

  While she stared unseeingly at the beauty of the valley, her brain was working furiously on the problem of getting hold of a car. It would seem insuperable! Walking was practically out of the question. Apart from the distance, it would be dangerous on that twisting road with no pavements – but if it was the only way of getting there, she might have to do it.

  The perfect answer was thrust at her the next minute when her eyes fell on the blue Volkswagen in the open garage beside the sports shop. There was the very vehicle for her! In his stiff-backed way Anton had implied that he was trying to help her; now was his opportunity to prove it. If he refused to let her hire it for the afternoon it would bear out her accusation this morning and put him in the same league as young Peter.

  Deeming another visit inadvisable, she sought out Frau Petz and asked for his telephone number. The request brought an inquisitive look to the rosy face, but she obligingly asked the operator for the number herself in case Kathryn couldn’t manage it, then vanished as soon as the bell started ringing.

  There was a click, then, “Hier Reiter,” came his clipped voice in her ear.

  “This is Kathryn Davis, Herr Reiter.”

  Silence sizzled along the wire before she said, “Yes? There is something I can do for you?”

  “I have been trying to hire a car, but the man at the garage is determined that I shan’t have one.”

 
“He is?”

  “It doesn’t surprise me. The last thing he wants is for me to become mobile.”

  “It is?”

  “Well, of course it is! He thinks I may discover something he wishes to keep hidden.”

  “Does he?”

  Drat the man! He was deliberately stonewalling every attempt she made to draw a comment from him. Very well, she would shake him from his lofty disinterest by coming out with a flat challenge.

  “I want to hire your car for the afternoon.” She smiled into the silence that followed.

  At last, “Where are you proposing to drive?”

  “Up Kapellerpass. It’s time I had a look around there.”

  “I see. I regret that I cannot agree to letting you take my car . . .”

  Oh, she thought with a downward dip of her spirits, he is in it, after all.

  “. . . but if you can wait until sixteen hundred I will drive you there.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” she protested. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “But you do, Miss Davis, all the time!” There was another pause. “Do you accept my offer?”

  “Yes . . . thank you,” she added hastily. “I’ll be ready at four o’clock.”

  She was on the balcony when he came out and walked round to the garage. Her movement caught his eye, making him look up.

  “Oh, you are waiting.” There was no smile of greeting for her, but that was hardly to be expected. The only reason he was doing this was to contradict her accusation this morning. She had no illusions that it was a gesture of goodwill.

  By the time the car backed slowly from the garage, she was down in the yard ready to jump in when he opened the door. Dusk was already creeping between the gap in the mountains as they drove through the village, and Kathryn was glad of her warm red coat. Anton wore a thick blue ski-sweater over a white polo-necked woollen shirt as a precaution against the sudden cold of evening after the warmth of the sun. He looked the perfect advertisement for his own sports gear, and she wondered that he should have such an athletic build for a man with such sedentary occupations. The breadth of his shoulders betrayed a fair amount of muscle and the hands on the wheel were large and strong. For a terrified moment she stared at them and wondered if they could have pushed her head towards that trough!

  “Have you yet decided that I do not carry a gun or any other weapon?” he asked without taking his eyes from the road. “You have been looking at me long enough to reach a conclusion.”

  She invented rapidly. “I was wondering why you wouldn’t let me hire your car and come on my own.”

  He shot a quick glance at her then. “The results of your last journey across Kapellerpass are hardly a recommendation for your driving skill.”

  This man knew how to give as good as he got. She was effectively silenced during the whole of the climb up the twisting pass and only when they reached the restaurant at the top did she speak again.

  “Why have you come to the top?”

  He twisted in his seat and faced her. “Where do you wish to look? What is it you are expecting to find?”

  Well, just what did she expect to find? Some marks on a couple of pine trees; prints in the soft earth? All it would prove was that she really did have an accident that day – and where.

  “I don’t really know,” she confessed looking down at her hands. “I am hoping there will be something at the spot where I crashed which will give me a clue to this mystery. If only I could remember what happened, I might be able to prove I didn’t do it.”

  “Didn’t do what?”

  “Kill that man. Something tells me there was another hand as well as mine in his death. Why would Peter behave so suspiciously about my car if it was only a mere road accident?”

  “Go on, this is very interesting,” said Anton with narrowed eyes.

  “My car has been doctored by young Peter to hide any evidence, and you . . . and someone has persuaded the Inspector that I invented that attack at the trout farm, yet not one person has thought to ask why anyone should want to kill me so soon after a motor accident in which a man died.”

  “Have they not?” he asked dryly. “You were too shocked when I asked you that very question yesterday.” Switching on the engine, he said, “Shall we now descend and look for the spot you require?”

  While they had been speaking, the darkness had intensified, and as they approached the first bend Kathryn realized it must have been like this when she came down on Saturday. Anton had switched on his lights at the top to warn oncoming motorists that he was coming, although it was not dark enough for them to be any assistance on the road.

  “When you see the place, tell me to stop,” he said quietly.

  A nod was her only reply. There was a thick feeling in her throat, and her hands were clenched into tight balls inside her coat pockets. I shall never recognize it, she thought. All these bends look alike.

  They had been driving for almost ten minutes and still the road looked unfamiliar to her. Twice he had glanced searchingly at her, but she shook her head and ran her tongue over dry lips. Round the next bend she had a sudden clear vision of Mosskirch way below, jewelled with lights and beckoning a welcome as it had four days ago. Next instant, like a colored slide coming into focus, landmarks she remembered appeared on each side of the road.

  Yes, there was the distant view of a mountain-top shaped like a polar-bear’s head; here was a small stream tumbling down the rocks on the left and disappearing under the road and through the trees on the right. Round the next bend she knew there would be a notice which read STEINSCHLAG! It was not necessary to understand the word; the picture which accompanied it left motorists in no doubt that boulders were liable to fall from the sheer wall of rock rising to their right.

  The STEINSCHLAG! notice went past her window and there ahead yawned a dark tunnel formed by a wall of rock on one side and a solid row of pines on the other. A terrible dread invaded her at the sight of that tunnel and she knew she must not go through it. Full headlights suddenly blazed out and the car slowed to a near-crawl as it approached the hairpin bend. Sweat broke out on her body and she turned to the man beside her with a cry of fear.

  “No! Don’t go down there.”

  Next minute, they were swinging across the road and heading into the row of pines. Kathryn’s right foot pressed into the floor and her body arched back against the seat in an instinctive effort to stop the car. Six feet from the trees she let out a scream and covered her head with her arms as she waited for the blinding white lights.

  Chapter Four

  She was not aware of the car stopping, nor of arms holding her gently as she cried. During the past few minutes she had recalled and relived the experience her mind preferred to subdue, and now the shock hit her! Completely oblivious to her surroundings, she clung to the Austrian with desperate hands, burying her face in his shoulder and letting her trembling body be held against his.

  With every spasm of sobbing, her fear, anger and uncertainty grew less. The relief of it was overwhelming. Tension eased out of her as the minutes passed, and soon she was lying quite relaxed against him while he stroked her hair and murmured soothing words in his own language. It was a pleasant sensation – so pleasant that she had no desire to move away ever again.

  Eventually, the roar of an engine in low gear and vivid headlights from an oncoming car blazing into their darkness made Anton say softly, “We must move before we are reported to the Polizei. These side paths are for drivers who cannot work their brakes, not for two people to cuddle.” He put her gently back into her seat and started the engine. “Let us go to my house where we can better talk.”

  His English had suffered from the stress of the moment, she noticed as she searched in her pockets for a handkerchief to dry her wet cheeks. The car eased out on to the road and took the rest of the twisting road at a fair pace, considering how much darker it had grown. During the journey Kathryn tried to mop up her face as best she could and ran a comb through her s
hort curls. A feeling of unreality still clung to her, although she was now much more her real self than she had been for four days, and that dreadful cloud which had hung over her since the Inspector told her about the dead man, was finally dispersed.

  Anton soon had her indoors and took her coat off before pushing her firmly into a large armchair.

  “I will bring you a drink, then we can talk about this affair,” he said briskly.

  The centrally-heated warmth of the room added to her lethargy and the cushioned softness of the tweed chair made her curl her legs under her as she loved to do when she relaxed. Anton came across the carpet and commented on the way she had made herself at home.

  “Do not get too comfortable, or this will make you fall asleep. Drink it down straight away; it will warm you.” He-switched on a table lamp beside her and settled in a chair on the opposite side of the low coffee-table.

  Kathryn sniffed the liquid in the glass. “What is this?” she asked suspiciously. “I don’t recognize the smell.”

  “Schnapps. Don’t ask questions, just drink it.”

  The schnapps slid down her unwilling throat making her wrinkle her nose, but he tossed his back in one gulp as he waited for her to begin talking. Her restless fingers played with the empty glass until he took it from her and put it on the table with a sharp rap.

  She looked at him with new eyes. There was no doubt he had planned to frighten her into remembering last Saturday – had had every intention of doing so when he offered to take her up the pass. Those blue eyes, no longer glittering angrily but full of concern, were not the eyes of a killer, nor was the gentle expression on his mobile face. She should have believed him when he said he wanted to help her, although why he should bother was a mystery.

  With a sigh she said, “I’m sorry for what I said to you this morning.”