Aria in Ice by Flo Fitzpatrick Read Free Book Online Page B

Fouchet?
Friday—or sooner.”
    He turned and stalked off.
    I reached under the table for my bag. Franz
politely extended his hand. “May I carry that for you?
    I smiled at him, but shook my head. “No
thanks. I’m wandering off to check out this old bookstore I saw in
a guidebook. I love hunting through old stuff like maps and
histories. And I’m hoping they’ll have some other Gothic tales that
were written in countries other than just America in the Sixties
and Seventies. I’d love to be able to bug Shay with strange ideas.”
I paused. “Uh, I’m sorry that Johnny was a bit abrupt about tickets
and stuff.”
    He eyed me with curiosity and some other
emotion I couldn’t define. “Just how long did you say you and Mr.
Gerard have been friends?”
    I did more spinning than an Olympic skater
finishing a routine. “I ran into him a few hours ago at the Kastle.
He was, uh, looking into some rare tree.”
    He was looking at that tree up close and
personal with his backside and that tree was about as rare as a
pine in East Texas, but it was almost the truth. I added, “I gather
he is doing some restorative artwork for the owners there.”
    Franz quietly stated, “He’s quite the
Renaissance man isn’t he? I should study him for future use as a
character.”
    I held off from stating, ‘Honey, been
done. Tune in tomorrow—or whenever Johnny Gerard is back in
Manhattan filming—and watch the quintessential Mister Do-It-All,
Gregory Noble, outwit villians while surving jumping out of planes
with slashed parachutes then sk iing down Alps promptly upon
landing.’
    “Well, Ms. Fouchet. Oops, sorry. Abby. I’m
going to attempt to purchase tickets for the opera. I shall see you
tomorrow?”
    I nodded. “Sure. I’ll give the Duskovas a
call and give them a heads up that our leading man would like a
preview of the set—or at least what will be the set.”
    “Thank you. And thanks for mentioning the
opera will be performing here. It will be fun to see.”
    He turned and left the café. I wasn’t sure
“fun” was a word I’d’ve chosen for this upcoming night at the
opera. If the tension became any more palpable between Franz and
Johnny, Friday evening promised to be as much fun as climbing into
the bloodied, tapestried, coffin optimistically called a window
seat at the Duskova sisters’ castle.

Chapter 6
     
     
    I’d lied to Franz about my reasons for
digging through old books. I could care less about Gothic novels
from any other period or country. Shay would do what she wanted to
do with the movie without extra research on my part. Kouzlo Noc and Mozart were the topics inflaming my curiosity. Madam
Duskova and Franz had acted wacky whenever the composer was
mentioned and while I hadn’t had the chance to toss in Amadeus’
name to the cryptic crypt explorer, Corbin Lerner; doubtless
he’d’ve done the turn-pale-and-blanch bit just like Veronika and
Franz. On the other hand, Mr. Gerard’s freckled complexion hadn’t
changed a whit during Mozart discussions. He was too busy tossing
grenades into the air and watching how and where everyone—everyone
being Franz—ducked. I was determined to do a bit of semi-academic
exploration about Kouzlo Noc and its possible connection to
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s last opera. Something was way weird.
    Especially when it came to music. There’s
nothing wrong with my ears. I have a tendency to lose earrings on a
regular basis, but the audio portion of my eardrum works just fine.
I knew damn well I’d heard someone playing a tune from The Magic
Flute . Madam D had nearly jumped out the turret when I brought
up Mozart. An historian was exploring a graveyard that
coincidentally happened to contain markers from the same era as the
composer’s life. My conclusion—unless there was a musical ghost
living at the castle (okay, technically, not “living” there)
someone was trying to create that illusion. I wanted the skinny on
who, when, why and how.
    A tiny store