The Vanishing of Katharina Linden by Helen Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

you? Why can’t I be on your team? Why won’t you be friends with me?
This was not a good start.
    “Because you nearly blew it. In fact you may have blown it. He’s never sent me off like that before.”
    “I couldn’t help it,” said Stefan, brushing a strand of dirty blond hair out of his eyes. “That monster cat gave me the fright of my life.”
    “It’s only Pluto,” I pointed out frostily. “You’ve seen him hundreds of times.”
    “He made me jump, creeping out of the dark like that. And, anyway,” Stefan went on, “didn’t you think it was a bit weird, the way he appeared just as Herr Schiller was telling us about Unshockable Hans and the witches’ cats?”
    “Not particularly,” I lied. “Pluto gets into everything. Frau Nett said she found him in the kitchen of the bakery once, eating a bit of
Apfelstreusel
.”
    Stefan’s face fell a little. “Well, all the same …” he said lamely. “I think it was creepy.” He looked down at the muddy waters below, thinking. “He certainly gave Herr Schiller a shock,” he said eventually. “Don’t you think that’s a bit strange?”
    “Well, Pluto’s not his cat,” I pointed out. “He probably wasn’t expecting to see the old fleabag practically sitting on his shoulder.”
    “Hmmmm …” I looked at Stefan sideways and could see a familiar expression on his face, one that meant wheels were turning. “Pluto belongs to Herr Düster, doesn’t he?” he said.
    “Ye-e-es,” I conceded suspiciously.
    “Well, don’t you think it’s odd that—”
    “Oh, come
on
!” I snapped, cutting him off midsentence. “What do you think, that Herr Düster
set
Pluto on him or something?”
    “I don’t know,” said Stefan, but you could see the idea had appeal. “I mean, those two hate each other, don’t they? Maybe Pluto didn’t get in there by himself. Maybe Herr Düster put him in through the window or something, to give Herr Schiller a fright. Maybe he was hoping it would give him a heart attack.”
    “Nice idea,” I said untruthfully. “But who’s going to leave a window open in
this
weather?”
    Stefan shook his head, as though he were an inspirational leader frustrated at the inability of his followers to see the bigger picture.
    “It didn’t have to be the window. Maybe he put him in through that old chute where they used to put coal and stuff in the cellar.”
    “Quatsch,”
I said rudely. “That’s absolute
Quatsch
. And, anyway, how was Herr Düster to know we had been talking about Unshockable Hans and the cats? You think he’s psychic or something?”
    The thought seemed to strike Stefan. “Maybe he is.” He pushed himself away from the parapet of the bridge and began to walk slowly toward the Marktstrasse. This time it was my turn to tag along after him. It was almost dark now, and as we passed the red
Rathaus
the first few flakes of falling snow were dancing in the air.
    “Stefan, I have to get home. My mother will go nuts—it’s already dark.”
    “I know. It’s all right.”
    Stefan didn’t need to make any remark about his own mother. I remember thinking that Frau Breuer probably wouldn’t notice if Stefan didn’t come home at all, a thought that seems horribly callous in the light of what came afterward, when other children really did fail to come home.
    We stopped for a moment by the old pillory in front of the
Rathaus
. Stefan kicked it idly with the scuffed toe of his sneaker as we stood there, awkwardly saying our goodbyes. Eventually I said, “See you tomorrow, then,” and turned to walk away.
    I had hardly taken three steps when I found there was someone blocking my path. I looked up, snowflakes whirling into my face, andfound myself looking up into the gargoyle features of Herr Düster. In his dark coat he looked like an undertaker. His expression was hostile. Heart thumping, I froze.
    Herr Düster’s eyes slid over me and then his gaze seemed to snag on Stefan, half visible in the colonnade behind