by Kerstin Gier
I shook my head. “So let’s say your story is true, and Mrs. Yegorov is a kleptomaniac who stole Mrs. Ludwig’s ring, which Mr. Ludwig bought at a flea market thirty-five years ago for forty marks, even though it’s actually worth about a hundred times that … or a thousand times?” I stared at Tristan in bewilderment.
“Stick another two zeroes on the end,” he said. “Give or take a million.”
“Oh my God.” I gulped. “The Ludwigs are going be able to spend their holidays at Castle in the Clouds for the rest of their lives.” If it still existed, that is. “They’ve been saving up their whole lives just to be able to stay here for two weeks. Imagine all the things they’d be able to do if they sold the ring. Pay off their house, go on cruises, leave some money to their children … I can’t wait to see their faces when they find out what a treasure they’ve had in their possession all these years. Come on, let’s go and give it back to them!” I grabbed Tristan’s hand.
“Wait, Sophie, wait!” Tristan held me back. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? It’s bound to cause a stir if the ring suddenly reappears.”
That was certainly true. Mrs. Ludwig had told pretty much anyone who would listen (and some people who wouldn’t) about the disappearance of her beloved ring. “Everyone will just be happy for Mrs. Ludwig, won’t they? Apart from Mrs. Yegorov, of course. She’ll be kicking herself.”
Tristan shook his head. “What are you going to tell them? That I found the ring in Mrs. Yegorov’s nightstand?”
“Oh.” He was right. It wasn’t that easy. “I could say I found it somewhere. And then you just happened to see it and realize it’s worth millions … What? Why do you look so skeptical? Mrs. Yegorov is hardly going to admit she stole it.”
“No. But she’ll know you found the ring in her room and took it,” said Tristan.
“So? She’ll be furious, but she can’t exactly say anything about it without outing herself as a thief.”
“But she’d know who took the ring from her, don’t you see? It’s best not to get on the wrong side of somebody like Stella Yegorov.”
I remembered the bodyguard in Room 117 and the holster he carried around, and I couldn’t help but agree. “The same applies to you, though,” I said to Tristan. “What was your plan? If you say you found the ring somewhere, the Yegorovs will know you were in their room.” Well, Stella Yegorov would know, anyway. I doubted her husband had any idea what she was up to.
“That’s true,” Tristan replied. “And annoyingly, I haven’t yet resolved that particular detail. But we’ll find a way of getting the Ludwigs’ beloved ring back to them, don’t you worry, Sophie.” Tristan was still holding onto my wrist, as if he was afraid I might go running off to tell the whole world about the ring. “Even if I have to climb into their room myself and leave it on their nightstand.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said, but I couldn’t help giggling.
At that moment, we heard a rumbling sound outside the door, and then it swung open and Hortensia and Ava came in pushing a cleaning cart.
“I hate it when he leaves his chewing gum stuck to the bin,” said Hortensia in her nasal voice as she closed the door behind her. “He does it on purpose.”
Ava didn’t reply; she’d spotted me and Tristan and was staring at us openmouthed. Tristan must have let go of my wrist a second too late.
“As I said, this cut-through is for staff only, sir.” I smiled at Tristan. “You’re welcome to take the main stairs or the elevators.”
“But this is a shortcut to the library.” Tristan frowned. “And there’s no sign on the door to say it’s out of bounds.”
“All right then. You can cut through here just this once. As it’s Christmas. I hope you have a lovely Christmas Eve.”
“Thank you, you too,” Tristan replied and moved toward the stairs. I squeezed past Hortensia and Ava and their cleaning cart and opened the door to the corridor.
“Oh, just a minute, Miss!” Tristan called, and I turned. Hortensia and Ava kept looking from me to Tristan and back again. Ava’s mouth was still hanging open. She’d clearly forgotten she was supposed to be ignoring me. “The lady with the pearl necklace was asking for you,” said Tristan. “She asked me to remind you that you’ve got an appointment with her.”
“Oh yes.” I knew immediately which lady he was referring to. The one in the painting in the alcove outside the Duchess Suite, where we’d hidden yesterday. “I’ll go and … er … look in on Mrs. Barnbrooke as soon as I’ve changed.”
As Tristan left, grinning, I said to Ava: “You’d better close your mouth before you start catching flies.”
“You’re so ugly,” Ava retorted. That seemed to be her go-to response when she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I don’t get it.”
“Don’t get what?” There were a lot of things I didn’t get, too, but I was sure I’d be able to give Ava a helping hand.
“Why is Mrs. Barnbrooke asking for you?” Hortensia had waited till Tristan’s footsteps had died away.
I shrugged. “It’s probably about little Gracie or Madison. I’ve been looking after them at day care. Anyway, I’d better get a move on. I’m sure Fräulein Müller wouldn’t want me to keep the guests waiting.”
With that, I pulled the door shut behind me and sprinted down the corridor (hopefully for the last time that day in snow boots).
I knew it. This Christmas was going to be anything but boring.
13
I got to the alcove with the painting of the stern lady in the pearl necklace later than planned because I’d had to shower and change and also reply to a message from Delia. She’d texted: “Christmas hasn’t even started yet and I’m already losing it. My mum and my grandma are arguing about the turkey, my stupid brother has diarrhea and is throwing up so loudly he’s almost made me be sick, too, twice; and my dad has decided today is a great day to install a new router. Which means we now have no internet. Which means I can’t watch any good shows, only ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ for the three-hundred-thousandth time. Oh yeah, and I’ve got a sneaking suspicion my parents are giving me a ceiling fan for Christmas. All because I might have happened to mention that my room was too hot this summer. What kind of sadistic parents give their child a ceiling fan as a present? In the middle of winter! Please tell me that Christmas at your fancy hotel is amazing and full of cinnamon parfaits, kisses under the mistletoe, and dates with hot millionaires, otherwise I’m going to stick my head down the toilet and drown myself.”
“Sorry, no time for hot millionaires, now going to meet hot cat burglar to clear up theft of ring which oligarch’s kleptomaniac wife stole from old lady who has no idea ring is worth a fortune,” I hastily texted back. I’d never kept secrets from Delia. And at least this message would keep her from drowning herself in the toilet. “Long story. If you don’t hear from me I’ve either been caught by the kleptomaniac’s bodyguard or the hot cat burglar decided to keep the ring for himself and has disposed of my corpse in the snow.”
While I was showering, however, I’d had an idea about how Tristan and I could resolve the problem of giving back the ring without anyone knowing who’d taken it.
When I emerged from the staff quarters, I could see him waiting for me on the stairs. He was leaning on the banister near the alcove with the painting of the pearl-necklace lady, peering down the stairs.
The first guests were already on their way to the restaurant. They probably thought it was just as well to be on time for that evening’s twelve-course dinner; the delicious smell of it was already drifting through the hotel. Apart from the “veal sweetbreads on smoked cucumber,” everything on the menu sounded amazing.
Whatsername and Camilla were wheeling their cleaning cart into the elevator as I passed, and our eyes met for a moment. I felt them staring after me.
“Would you look at that—Sophie out of uniform!” Tristan whistled admiringly. “And all dressed up, too. Definitely worth waiting half an hour for.”
“S
orry I took so long,” I said apologetically. “I had to dry my hair.” And put some eyeliner on. And a bit of blush. And mascara. And lip gloss. “And do some thinking.”
Tristan nodded. “Well, I’ve been doing some thinking, too, and there’s actually a very simple solution to our problem. We just need to get the ring to one of the managers, and then they can pass it on to Mrs. Ludwig. And nobody will know we had anything to do with it.”
That was exactly what I’d been thinking. I beamed at Tristan. “We’ll give the ring to Monsieur Rocher. That way we can be sure it’ll get back to Mrs. Ludwig safe and sound.”
Tristan looked distinctly unenthusiastic. “I was thinking of wrapping it up in a package addressed to Mrs. Ludwig and dropping it off at Reception when nobody’s looking. Otherwise this Monsieur Rocher would know it had come from us.”
“But it would attract a lot more attention if Mrs. Ludwig were to open a mysterious package from some anonymous person and find the ring inside it.” I really didn’t think it was a good idea. “And Monsieur Rocher would never say anything to anyone.”
“And he wouldn’t ask any questions?” Tristan looked at me, eyebrows raised.
“Well, yes,” I had to admit, “he would ask questions.” The faint sound of piano music drifted up the stairs toward us; the Christmas sing-along must be getting going in the bar. They were starting with “O Holy Night.” “Perhaps we need an even simpler solution. I’ll just wait for a quiet moment and tell Mrs. Ludwig her ring has been found. By … Manfred.”
“Who’s Manfred?”
“There is no Manfred. That’s the point,” I burbled with increasing enthusiasm. “Manfred found the ring while he was cleaning the swimming pool and then went off on a well-earned holiday for three weeks. So Mrs. Ludwig won’t be able to thank him. But she can go around telling everyone that Manfred found her ring if she likes. Manfred doesn’t exist, so nobody can do him any harm.”
Tristan grinned. “That’s quite a good idea. But it needs work.”
“You’re not trying to find an excuse to keep hold of the ring, are you?” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “You’d better give it to me.”
Tristan raised his eyebrows again—he was very, very good at that—but obligingly reached into his pocket. I felt a bit queasy. Surely he hadn’t been walking around with a ring worth several million dollars in his pocket for the past few hours? But before he could hand me the ring, the door of the Theremin Suite opened, and Ella and Gretchen came out. They had matching outfits and hairstyles. Ella was wearing a red velvet vintage-style dress, and Gretchen had the same dress in blue. They both wore their curled blond hair held off their faces by a braided strand. I didn’t like to admit it, but they looked stunning.
And they seemed to know it, judging by the appraising looks and condescending smiles they gave us. I was sorry I hadn’t had any sort of reflex this time to make me leap into the alcove and hide. Suddenly I realized how Amy must feel. Until that moment, I’d been feeling pretty good about myself, but without even saying a word, Gretchen and Ella had managed to make me feel unattractive and frumpy. And totally out of place.
“Hi, Tristan,” Gretchen whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Tristan,” said Ella in honeyed tones. “Are you coming down to dinner?”
“I’m waiting for my grandpa.” Tristan smiled politely.
“Then we’ll see you later.” Gretchen and Ella breezed elegantly down the stairs. If they hadn’t giggled and whispered, too loudly, “That was that weird chambermaid, wasn’t it?” and “Do you think he’s got a thing for the staff, like Great Uncle Jeremiah?” I would just have thought how beautiful they looked and how their hair gleamed like gold in the light of the chandeliers. But as it was …
“Silly cows,” said Tristan.
“They are, aren’t they?” I was truly relieved that he hadn’t been blinded by the gleaming golden hair. “But the other Barnbrooke girls are lovely. Smart, funny, and kind. It would be good if you could maybe … just flirt with Amy a little bit, you know. Then those two would stop thinking they’re so irresistible, and Aiden might see Amy in a new light.”
Tristan frowned reluctantly. “Don’t we have more important things to discuss right now?”
“True. Manfred. And you were about to give me the ring.”
But that was clearly not going to happen. From the floor above we heard two sets of short, sharp yaps followed by a door closing, and then Mara Matthäus came down the stairs. She too was wearing a stunningly beautiful dress. It was half covered with rhinestones, and I wondered how she was going to top that when it came to her outfit for the New Year’s Ball.
Tristan didn’t wait for Mara Matthäus to reach us—he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the hallway where his room was. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere we won’t keep getting interrupted.”
He was right. If we weren’t careful, someone was going to see us with the ring, and then all our efforts would have been for nothing. We went past the Theremin Suite and Rooms 212 and 211 (where Tristan was staying with his grandpa) and into the vestibule at the end of the hall. The same vestibule where Don had wiped his chocolatey fingers on the velvet curtains and which Amy had said was one of her favorite places. There were two upholstered seats inside it, facing each other, and on the wall was a gilt-framed oil painting of a sad-looking girl in a sailor dress stroking a cat. The cat bore a striking similarity to the Forbidden Cat, which was perhaps why it often chose this spot to sleep in. The window faced west, looking out over the twinkling half-moon fir tree. Beyond the tree you could see the stables, where Old Stucky was currently taking Jesty’s and Vesty’s harnesses off, and where he would rub them down and brush them before knocking off work for the night, Christmas Eve or no Christmas Eve.
“Sophie.” Tristan still hadn’t let go of my hand. He turned it so that my palm was facing upward. Then he solemnly placed Mrs. Ludwig’s ring in it. Now that I knew how valuable it was, the stone seemed to positively glow.
I stared at it for a few seconds, awestruck.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Tristan laughed softly. “It really isn’t very often you see a pink diamond. They’re extremely rare, especially ones of this shade. Fancy Intense Pink, almost flawless.”
“And so heavy,” I murmured. The thing felt as though it weighed several pounds. My hand started trembling slightly. But that might have had something to do with the fact that Tristan was standing very close to me. So close that I could smell his distinctive scent of freshly washed cotton and lemon. I hoped I smelled even half as good. “I’m not sure how I feel about carrying it around with me. Perhaps you’d better keep it till we’ve figured out what we’re going to do.”
“You’re sweet,” said Tristan. “Are you afraid it might burn a hole in your pocket? Or that you might be tempted to keep it and go on the run with it?” He took the ring from the palm of my hand and slipped it onto my finger, then turned my hand over again. “Well? How does that feel?” he asked, in a soft voice. “Not bad, eh?”
“Get your hands off her,” snapped a voice from right beside us. I jumped backward in shock and nearly collided with the sad girl in the sailor dress.
It was Ben, standing between the velvet curtains, frowning darkly. The thick carpet must have muffled his steps so we hadn’t heard him coming.
“I beg your pardon?” Tristan crossed his arms and eyed Ben rather arrogantly.
“I said get your hands off our intern. Who, by the way, is a minor.” Ben seemed genuinely outraged.
“It’s…,” I began, but then broke off because I’d been about to say It’s not what it looks like, which is possibly the corniest phrase in the history of corny phrases.
Tristan laughed out loud. “Or what: You’ll beat me up?”
“If I have to,” said Ben stonily. “Are you okay, Sophie?”
“Too late.” Tristan was still laughing. “I’ve already bitten her, and next time there’s a full moon she’ll turn into a vampire just like me.”
&n
bsp; “Just because you’re good-looking and you’ve got a bit of money doesn’t mean you can do whatever the hell you want.” Ben was clearly on the point of launching himself at Tristan.
I quickly stepped in between them. “Ben! Nobody’s bitten me. And his hands weren’t on me…” Oh my goodness, what on earth was I saying? But Ben’s grave expression was making me nervous. I felt exactly like I’d felt that time when I was in my first year of high school and a couple of elementary school kids had sprayed “School is krap” on the wall of the bus shelter, and Delia and I couldn’t help being anal about it and changing the K to a C. Of course we’d got caught; the elementary school kids were long gone. They were probably still laughing about it to this day.
“We’re just discussing a little problem we’ve got,” I tried again. “Which you may even be able to help us with.”
“Sophie,” said Tristan in a warning voice. “Isn’t he your boss’s son?”
“Yes, but he’s all right,” I replied.
Ben folded his arms now, too. “What is this problem?” he growled.
I ignored Tristan’s warning glance. “I told you about Mrs. Ludwig losing her engagement ring in the spa.”
“You did,” said Ben. “We had the whole filtration system taken apart and all the filters searched.”
“But you never would have found the ring because Stella Yegorov had stolen it. She’s a kleptomaniac. Google it.” Which was exactly what I’d done while I was blow-drying my hair earlier. Tristan had been telling the truth. In the archives of several online magazines and search engines, I’d found reports of the sapphire bracelet that had ended up in the dog handbag “by accident.”
I felt it was to Ben’s credit that he stayed silent and didn’t say “Huh?” or “What?” like I would have done. No, Ben was very cool in comparison. He just let me carry on talking. But I was getting to the point where I was going to have to be a little creative with the truth.
“I happened to spot the ring lying on the nightstand in the Panorama Suite when I went to get Dasha’s sable hat just now.”