The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Lucerne (The Girl, the Dog and the Writer, #3)

by Katrina Nannestad

  ‘The rope I was making from the sheets is gone,’ Herr Basil explained. He sighed heavily. ‘I think the laundry woman has snatched it away while I was out walking the dogs.’

  ‘Not to worry, old fellow,’ said Tobias. ‘Hotel staff are rather fussy about tidiness and cleanliness . . . and rules and regulations, such as not using the bed linen as ropes.’ He chuckled and tugged at his ear. ‘And not locking the bellboy in the coal box.’

  ‘Oh, look, Tobby!’ cried Freja. She ran to the railing at the edge of the river. ‘It’s the swan family.’

  ‘Aaah!’ cried Herr Basil. ‘I love the swans.’ He waved to the waitress and she brought over a plate with five slices of pumpernickel.

  ‘Danke,’ said Freja. She broke off bits of the heavy black bread and tossed it into the water, one piece at a time.

  The swans whooshed about, pecking and grabbing and gulping.

  Tobias pointed at one of the white swans and spoke in a silly female voice with a thick German accent. ‘Kinder! Kinder! Slow down. Chew with your beaks closed. Use your manners. We are swans, not animals!’

  Herr Basil gave a start as though the swan had truly spoken and, indeed, the big white pen did look rather flustered and cross as she paddled back and forth between her cygnets.

  Freja giggled and tossed some more bread.

  Tobias now pointed to the large grey cygnets and spoke in childish German voices. ‘But if I don’t gobble, Wolfgang and Fritz will eat all the pumpernickel and I won’t get any.’

  ‘Will not!’

  ‘Will so! You’re a Vielfrass, Wolfgang.’

  ‘You take that back, Adelheid, or I’ll peck you!’

  ‘Nein! Vielfrass! Vielfrass! Eeeek! Mami! Papi! Wolfgang pecked me!’

  And, indeed, the three cygnets started flapping their fluffy grey wings, splashing and pecking at one another.

  The cob glided into their midst, calming things down. Tobias now growled in a manly German voice. ‘Hush! Hush! Still! Still! You Kinder need to settle down and behave or you will turn completely wild.’

  ‘Ja! Ja!’ Now in the motherly voice once more. ‘Your Papi is right. Next thing you’ll be eating slime from the lakeside like the von Gunten cygnets, and before we know what is happening you’ll be roaming the streets of Lucerne late at night, throwing rocks through windows and yelling rude words to people as they walk by on the bridges.’

  ‘Will not, Mami. I would never do anything so unladylike.’

  ‘I will, Mami!’

  ‘Me too! I’d like to yell rude words at the people on the bridges — words like Pipi and Dummkopf!’

  Herr Basil gasped. ‘Pipi? Dummkopf?’ he cried, pressing his hands to his chest. ‘I had no idea the swans were so naughty, so rude! I have always thought them graceful creatures, but now . . .’ He winked at Freja.

  Freja laughed and tossed the last of the bread into the river, hitting one of the cygnets on the head by mistake. The father swan rose up out of the water, flapped his wings and hissed.

  ‘So nasty!’ gasped Herr Basil. ‘I must change my entire view of the swan from this moment forth.’ He stood, peeled some franc notes from his wallet, tucked them beneath his coffee mug and wandered away, his head bowed in mock sorrow. Vipp, Vopp and Vupp ambled behind him, their heads hanging low as though they, too, shared in his newfound sorrow.

  CHAPTER 17

  Cheese and chocolate thievery

  The girl, the dog, the writer and the pretty chef sat on their private balcony at Hotel Schloss der Freude, eating cheese fondue as the sun set over the distant Alps. The fondue bowl sat above a candle to keep the cheese soft and warm and melty. Freja stabbed a piece of bread on her long-handled fork, dipped it into the melted cheese and moved it towards her mouth.

  ‘Boof!’ Finnegan lunged across the table, snatched the cheesy treat from the fork and gobbled it up.

  ‘Finnegan!’ Freja giggled. ‘That’s the fifth time! I’m getting awfully hungry here, you know.’

  Finnegan blinked and licked melted cheese from the tablecloth.

  Vivi pursed her lips and fluttered her liquorice-thick lashes. ‘I do hope Manfred won’t be cross at the mess we’ve made of the tablecloth and napkins.’

  ‘That’s nothing,’ said Tobias. ‘What about the mess I’ve made of my elbows?’ He lifted his arms up to show two circles of melted cheese patching the holes at the elbows of his cardigan.

  ‘Boof!’ Finnegan lunged sideways towards Tobias’ sleeve. He licked, nibbled, chewed and tugged, a string of melted cheese stretching between Tobias’ elbow and his mouth.

  Freja and Vivi giggled.

  Tobias grinned and offered the second cheesy elbow to Finnegan. ‘Well, that’s one mess sorted, at least.’

  ‘Now, what will we do with the mess above your ear?’ asked Vivi.

  ‘Huh?’ The writer frowned.

  Vivi reached across the table and pulled a chocolate pencil from amidst Tobias’ mop of curls. It was soft and melty and drooped in her hand.

  ‘Tobby!’ cried Freja. ‘You’re meant to eat the chocolate pencils that Vivi made, not tuck them behind your ear!’

  Tobias wiped some chocolate from the side of his head and licked his finger. ‘Yes, yes, of course!’ His mouth wobbled into a goofy grin. ‘I just get all a-muddle when Vivi is around.’

  Freja wrinkled her nose. As far as she could see, Tobias was all a-muddle most of the time. Although, she had to admit, he was sometimes extra silly in Vivi’s presence. Like right now . . .

  Tobias reached across the table and grabbed Vivi’s hand. The one that was holding the gooey chocolate pencil. He sighed and squeezed her hand tightly.

  Vivi gasped, her eyes widening as melted chocolate oozed out between their fingers. But Tobias was lost in the depths of Vivi’s chocolate-ganache eyes and didn’t even notice. Not even when the chocolate blooped down onto the white linen tablecloth.

  ‘Ooooh,’ Tobias sighed.

  Freja shook her head, then busied herself with the little binoculars that had been hanging on the back of her chair. ‘I’m just going to say goodnight to Clementine,’ she said, standing.

  ‘Wonderful!’ murmured Tobias, still staring into Vivi’s eyes.

  ‘Boof!’ said Finnegan, and, realising that his master was distracted, he took the opportunity to slurp the melted cheese straight from the fondue dish.

  Freja giggled, walked to the balcony railing and pressed the little binoculars to her eyes. Finding the clinic, she brought the lenses into focus and smiled. She pressed her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss across the river and up the hillside. ‘Goodnight, Mummy Darling Heart,’ she whispered. ‘Sleep well. Grow strong. Wake happy.’ Then, waving, she added, ‘Goodnight, lovely Lady P.’

  Her gaze lingered awhile on Clementine’s window, then wandered down the hillside to the buildings along the edge of the River Reuss.

  ‘Vivi!’ cried Freja, turning around. ‘I’ve found your guesthouse, right next to the bridge.’

  ‘The bridge is Reussbrücke,’ said Vivi. ‘So many bridges across the river in Lucerne. Perhaps the people are worried that if they are on one side of the river they might be missing out on something exciting on the other side. I think they have built many bridges so they can run back and forth, seeing all that is happening in their town.’

  Tobias chuckled. ‘Or perhaps they’re just terribly fond of Pooh Sticks and want as many places as possible to play.’

  ‘Poo-poo Sticks?’ asked Vivi, her eyes wide.

  Freja giggled. ‘Pooh Sticks. It’s a game where you toss sticks from a bridge into the river and see which one wins the race. It’s fun!’

  ‘We’ll teach you how to play when we walk you home tonight,’ said Tobias.

  Freja looked through the binoculars once more. ‘Oh, your guesthouse is lovely, Vivi. The window boxes are overflowing with red flowers and there are pretty little attic windows dotted across the roof.’

  ‘The attic window at the end is mine,’ said Vivi. ‘I have a wond
erful view up and down the river and across to the grand buildings — the fancy banks, the theatres, the museums and the magnificent Jesuit Church. I can even see down through the window into Café Schokolade-Schokolade. It is the café across the road. It is quite lovely the way it sits on the third floor and the customers can lounge by the window and eat chocolate and watch the swans on the river and, perhaps, the people playing the crazy Poo-poo Sticks from the bridge.’

  Freja shifted her gaze to the left to find the café. She squeaked and, in her surprise, dropped the binoculars so that they dangled from the strap around her neck. Blinking and gaping, she lifted the binoculars back up to her eyes.

  ‘Vivi!’ gasped Freja. ‘There is someone climbing out the window of Schokolade-Schokolade! And they have an enormous sack slung over their shoulder. And . . . and . . . I know it sounds really quite silly, but I think . . .’ She adjusted the focus and squeaked once more. ‘No, I’m sure! They’re using a rope made from bed sheets knotted together. Just like the one Herr Basil made!’

  Vivi and Tobias rushed to Freja’s side. She handed the binoculars to Vivi who also squeaked. ‘Si! Si!’ she cried, reverting to Italian as she always did when excited. ‘It is definitely the window of Café Schokolade-Schokolade. It is a burglar, I think.’ She handed the binoculars to Tobias.

  ‘A cat burglar!’ cried Tobias. ‘Or is it a choc burglar when one is robbing a chocolate shop?’ He removed the binoculars from his eyes, tugged at his ear and chuckled.

  ‘Tobby!’ snapped Freja. ‘We can worry about the words later. Look! Look!’

  Tobias lifted the binoculars once more and nodded. ‘Fascinating. The burglar is definitely using a rope made from sheets. And he is dressed from head to toe in black ski gear — puffy jacket, puffy pants, balaclava and ski goggles. And it’s not even cold.’ He returned the binoculars to Freja.

  ‘It’s a disguise!’ shouted Freja. ‘You can’t see who’s under all that puff and wool and goggle glass.’ She stared up at Tobias. ‘You don’t suppose it’s Herr Basil, Tobby? He does seem to eat a lot — schnitzels and Nusstorte at all times of the day. Perhaps he has a sudden appetite for large amounts of chocolate.’

  ‘Goodness!’ cried Tobias. ‘Now there’s a fascinating idea . . . and it would explain the sheet rope . . . but then he did say the rope had been taken.’

  ‘Perhaps that was a ploy,’ said Freja, ‘to make us think he was innocent.’

  ‘A ploy!’ Tobias rubbed his chin. ‘How very clever. I do like a ploy.’

  ‘But we cannot just stand here and talk!’ cried Vivi. ‘We must ask Manfred to call the police!’

  She dashed through the hotel suite, into the corridor and pressed the button for the lift. The girl, the dog and the writer followed.

  ‘A burglary!’ cried Manfred. ‘Rolf! Rolf! Call the police.’

  But the bellboy had followed Wilhelm Tell into hiding the minute Tobias had stepped from the lift. He was, it seemed, still traumatised by his long hours locked in the coal box.

  Manfred frowned at Rolf’s empty post by the hotel door. ‘But wait!’ he shouted, holding a white-gloved hand in the air. ‘I will ring the police myself!’ He dashed behind the desk, made the call and returned moments later, a spring in his step, a smile stretching his blond moustache wide. ‘We must leap into action, Herr Appleby!’ he shouted. ‘If there is a crime, we must go and see! Perhaps the scene of the naughtiness will provide the inspiration for the next novel, ja? It will be fun, ja? It will be exciting, ja? It will be sensationell, ja?’

  Manfred whipped the keys to Tobias’ motorcycle from his pocket and dangled them in the air. ‘Come! Come! I have parked your vehicle out the back. We can zip down the hill and across the river and arrive at the scene of the crime before the police! We can be the heroes of the day, ja?’

  Freja looked from Manfred to Vivi, then to Tobias and Finnegan. ‘I’m not sure we can fit,’ she whispered.

  ‘Ah!’ shouted Manfred. ‘But of course we can! Where there is the will, there is the way! We Swiss are the masters of invention. Did we not create the Swiss Army knife, the Velcro, the holes in the cheese and the greatest thing ever known to mankind, the chocolate?!’

  Tobias screeched to a halt at the side of the road. Manfred fell off the tiny luggage rack at the back of the motorcycle where he had been perched like a parrot. His jacket was rumpled and covered in soot and his blond hair stood on end, but his eyes sparkled and his smile stretched even wider than before. He sprang to his feet, ran his hand across his hair and stood up tall. He clicked his heels, bowed and helped Vivi from the motorcycle.

  Finnegan jumped out of the sidecar and snuffled about. Freja climbed out after him, something crunching beneath her boot as it landed on the ground.

  ‘Tobby?’ she cried, lifting her foot and balancing on one leg. Was it a swan egg? Was it glass? She grabbed Finnegan by the collar, afraid for either of them to go any further.

  Tobias turned the motorcycle around and the headlight shone, not on eggs or glass, but on chocolate. The road was covered in chocolate — dozens and dozens of chocolate mice and chocolate frogs. Freja had crushed one of the mice beneath her boot.

  ‘What a waste,’ she muttered.

  Above them dangled the white rope made from sheets. It stretched from Café Schokolade-Schokolade’s window on the third floor, down the side of the building, ending a full floor above ground level.

  ‘Look, Tobby,’ said Freja. ‘The rope was too short.’

  Tobias rested his hand on Freja’s shoulder. ‘Yes, yes,’ he murmured. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘I think,’ said Freja, ‘that the burglar has had to jump the last four metres.’

  ‘Perhaps they fell,’ said Vivi. ‘And the frogs and the mice have spilled from the sack when the burglar landed with a thump.’

  Freja stared at the chocolates. She scrunched her nose and took a few steps along the street. ‘But look,’ she said. ‘The mice and frogs haven’t just exploded out of the sack in one burst. They form a sort of trail, as though they’ve fallen from a hole as the burglar ran away.’ She looked back up to where the sheet-rope ended. ‘There! See that shred of canvas dangling from the hinge of that shutter? I think it’s from the sack! It must have caught as the burglar jumped or fell.’

  ‘Well spotted, old chap!’ cried Tobias.

  ‘It is impressive!’ cheered Manfred. ‘Fräulein Freja is like a detective in one of your novels, Herr Appleby.’

  Tobias beamed at her, his face filled with pride. Freja’s breath caught. Was it fatherly pride?

  ‘Look! Look!’ cried Vivi, following the trail of chocolate mice and frogs further along the street. ‘Now there are bigger chocolates — bars and blocks and even great slabs of bark decorated with glacé fruit and nuts.’

  ‘The hole must have got bigger as the burglar ran away,’ cried Freja. She followed the chocolate trail past Vivi to where it suddenly ended.

  Finnegan snuffled about and dashed down a side alley, emerging moments later with an empty canvas laundry bag trailing from his mouth. It was large and sturdy, the type used for dirty towels and bed linen. He shook it from side to side, then dropped it at Freja’s feet.

  Freja lifted it up and held it towards the nearest light which shone out from an apartment window. Finding the tear, she stuck her hand through and nodded, pleased to see the proof of her theory.

  ‘Nein!’ Manfred growled at her side. He snatched the canvas bag away and held it at arm’s length as though it was contaminated. ‘But look! There, printed in the black ink! It is a disaster!’

  Freja squinted and read aloud: ‘Hotel Schloss der Freude.’

  Manfred dropped the sack and grabbed at his hair with his hands. ‘I am so ashamed. The burglar, the thief, the criminal! It is one of the staff at the hotel.’

  ‘Or,’ said Freja, thinking of Herr Basil, but not mentioning his name, ‘one of the guests at the hotel.’

  CHAPTER 18

  A suspiciously milky crime

  �
��Police!’ cried Tobias as the sound of a siren grew closer and closer.

  ‘Goody!’ cheered Freja

  ‘At last!’ cried Vivi.

  ‘Katastrophe!’ shouted Manfred. He snatched the laundry sack from the ground, ran to the bridge and tossed it into the river. It whirled about for a moment, then floated downstream, away into the dark.

  Sidling up to Manfred, Freja whispered, ‘Isn’t that naughty? Isn’t it a crime to interfere with a police investigation?’

  ‘Ja,’ sighed Manfred. ‘So now there are two criminals at Hotel Schloss der Freude — the chocolate thief and myself!’ He staggered away across the bridge, mumbling and tugging at his hair, disappearing into the night.

  The police arrived, flashing torches, puffing out their chests and asking dozens and dozens of questions, including several very silly ones, such as, ‘How old is the dog?’ and, ‘Does he always smell so bad?’ and, ‘Bitte! Bitte! Can you please stop him licking our torches?’

  Of course, Tobias and Freja could not stop the licking, no matter how hard they tried.

  The questioning done, the police gathered all of the chocolate from the street into large plastic bags. They said it was evidence, but Freja saw the way they licked their lips as they packed the bags into the boot of their car.

  Frau and Herr Mettler, the owners of Café Schokolade-Schokolade, arrived just minutes later. Herr Mettler was tall and thin with red hair and small round glasses. His wife was short and plump with blonde hair braided into two plaits. They both stared up at the open window and the sheet-rope, then led the way upstairs to see what damage had been done to their beloved café.

  Herr Mettler opened the door and flicked on the lights. Everyone gasped. Except for Finnegan. He chased his tail until he caught it, then yelped in pain.

  The gasping was born of astonishment. For, instead of finding a scene of destruction and chaos, the café looked bright and clean and orderly. Most of the chocolates were stacked into perfect pyramids, arranged in tall-stemmed glass bowls or nestled in gold boxes with red satin bows around the edges — just as they were supposed to be. The mirror behind the counter sparkled and the antique chocolate moulds still hung proudly from the walls. Frau Mettler opened the cash register and found it as full of notes and coins as when they had locked up at the end of business. Herr Mettler did a lap of the kitchen and declared everything to be tipptopp. Even the Mettler family-heirloom recipes were still arranged in alphabetical order in their little wooden box on the workbench. The only sign of the burglary was the open window from which the sheet-rope hung, and several gaps on the shelves where the thief had taken the entire collection of certain chocolates.