Ferdinand stepped back, bowed, straightened, and then offered her his arm.
“Fraulein Gretel, would you join me for a stroll?” he asked.
She nodded, forcing herself to try to appear nonchalant but feeling pretty certain it wasn’t convincing.
“I should be delighted, Herr Uber General,” she replied, taking his arm.
“Oh, I think it’s high time you started calling me Ferdinand, don’t you?” he said as he led her away.
When Gretel skipped through her own front door an hour later she found herself, despite her cast and cane, unable to resist performing a little dance in the hallway. Her feet, tired as they were, moved as if on air. She laughed out loud, and then felt quite mad, and then laughed again at that thought.
“Is that you?” Hans called out from the kitchen.
“It is.”
He emerged clutching a bottle and a glass of wine. “The Uber General not with you, then?”
“He walked me to my door and then took his leave. His duties at the Schloss demand his attention,” she explained.
“Why are you grinning like that?” Hans wanted to know. “Have you been drinking? Can’t imagine Herr Uber General taking you to the Inn.”
“He did not. We perambulated,” she told him.
“Good for you,” said Hans and then, brow furrowing slightly, he asked, “Is that allowed? Perambulating, I mean. When a fellow is engaged to another?”
“Ah, but he is not, Hans.”
“Not?”
“No. It seems that was all a misunderstanding.”
“Oh, but I thought, I mean, I was told, I was informed …”
“What have I always warned you about gossip? What have I always said regarding the folly and dangers of listening to tittle-tattle and wagging tongues?”
“Well! So, no wedding for poor old Ferdinand, then?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Hans,” Gretel said with a small, secretive smile. “Perhaps one day. One day.”
“Oh well, in that case, he’ll need some decent wine. Can’t have a wedding without a nice drop of something drinkable.”
Gretel sighed. “You are rather missing the point, Hans. As usual.”
“He needn’t worry. Tell him to come to me,” Hans said. “Or indeed, us, because now that I think about it, this delivery did actually have your name on it.”
“Delivery?”
“Yes, when I got home I found a case of this on the doorstep. Look.”
He handed her the bottle he had been holding. Gretel couldn’t help noticing it was already half empty. The label declared it to be from a family-run vineyard in eastern Bavaria. She removed the cork and sniffed.
“It smells rather good.”
“It is,” he assured her, taking a glass from the mantelpiece, blowing off the dust, and offering it to her.
Gretel poured herself a generous measure of the crystal clear white wine and drank deeply, the events of the evening having left her more than a little unnerved.
“Oh,” she said, scrutinizing the label on the bottle again, “that really is very good indeed. Who sent it?”
“There was a note. Haven’t read it, thought I’d better not, it being addressed to you …” He took the squashed letter from his pocket and passed it over.
“Didn’t stop you opening the wine,” Gretel reminded him. She broke the elaborate seal on the expensive paper and held the writing up to the lamplight. “It seems,” she summarized, “that the youngest daughter of an obscure royal family is in peril. She recently eloped to marry the owner of a vineyard on the banks of the Rhine, and not two weeks later he has been found dead in a wine vat.”
“Good heavens! What a way to go,” said Hans, sounding rather more impressed than appalled.
“Murder is suspected. The family fear for their daughter’s safety, but she is now wedded to the memory of her late husband, and determined to uphold the name of his domain out of love and respect for him. She has taken to the world of winemaking and refuses to leave. She has become expert on grape varieties and all aspects of vintnery, and plans to produce her very own white wine. Her father fears a rival neighboring vineyard wishes her ill and will stop at nothing to prevent her success.”
“And I suppose they want you to go and investigate? It’s all work for you, sister mine, isn’t it? No rest for a detective, eh?”
Gretel took another swig of the superior wine. She was still dizzy from the new turn her relationship with Ferdinand had taken. She could still smell his cologne upon her clothes, still feel the memory of his arms about her and his lingering kiss. But she was a woman of action. She was independent and had her business as a detective to attend to. Not to mention household bills and expenses to cover. The payment from the insurance company would be used up soon enough. She must not allow herself to become distracted by romance. After all, Ferdinand had fallen for a woman who valued her professional reputation and her work greatly; she was not about to let that change. They had exchanged no promises, as yet. She must be sensible. If Ferdinand’s feelings for her were genuine, they would stand the test of a little time and separation. She would write and tell him that she would be leaving town again directly, for her talents were required for a new case: that of the Princess and the Pinot Grigio.
“Another bottle, Hans,” she said, draining her glass, “and then the maps, if you please.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to my tireless agent Kate Hordern, the ever-imaginative Adam Fisher for the cover design, and the team at Pegasus for their continued support and enthusiasm.
Thanks also to Stephanie Carter, a lovely reader who has all the grit and determination of Gretel herself, and who came up with the name Jynx for a very special character in this book.
ALSO IN THE BROTHERS GRIMM MYSTERY SERIES:
Once Upon a Crime
Gretel and the Case of the Missing Frog Prints
The Case of the Fickle Mermaid
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
P.J. BRACKSTON is the author of the New York Times bestseller The Witch’s Daughter; The Winter Witch; Nutters; and three previous books in the acclaimed “Brothers Grimm” mystery series: Gretel and the Case of the Missing Frog Prints; Once Upon A Crime; and The Case of the Fickle Mermaid. She has an MA in Creative Writing from Lancaster University and is a visiting lecturer for the University of Wales, Newport. Brackston lives in Wales with her partner, Simon, and their two children.
THE SORCERER’S APPENDIX
Pegasus Crime is an Imprint of
Pegasus Books Ltd.
148 W 37th Street, 13th Floor
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by P. J. Brackston
First Pegasus Books cloth edition November 2017
Interior design by Maria Fernandez
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review in a newspaper, magazine, or electronic publication; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, without written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN: 978-1-68177-530-2
ISBN: 978-1-68177-600-2 (e-book)
Distributed by W. W. Norton & Company
The Sorcerer's Appendix Page 22