Chapter 51

 

Gracie’s arm looked awful the next morning as a big purple bruise now covered her entire forearm and had spread across the elbow. She insisted, however, it felt much better. The throbbing was gone, she said, although Pen noticed she still held it gingerly across her body and was very careful not to touch it to any hard surface.

Pen had glossed over her close call in Morrell’s hotel room, supposing that another guest got the wrong room or a hotel employee had come up, although that person would have knocked before trying the door. Police would have announced themselves and probably would not have walked away. It wasn’t Frank’s voice and as far as they knew he didn’t speak fluent German. It was still a mystery.

They’d gone back and forth the previous evening about reporting both the attack and the stolen necklace to the local police.

“Do we really want to get bogged down in another legal system in a foreign country?” Gracie questioned. “I mean, after all, we’d planned on catching this Frank Morrell and stealing the necklace back.”

True, taking action themselves was appealing. If police found the jewelry, it would end up in custody somewhere, potentially tied up for months or years as evidence in a criminal case. Still, they had valuable information and should at least report Frank Morrell’s information and what they knew about this Anton van der Went who was supposed to meet him.

Pen watched Gracie over their room-service breakfast, wondering if her friend was feeling up to a trip to the police station. She’d come to the conclusion she would simply phone in the report, unless the police insisted they come in person, when she received an incoming text message.

Amber: Don’t bother with Anton at airport. He pulled a switch and came in earlier. Will try for more info. Stay tuned.

Pen held up the phone but Gracie had received the same message on hers.

“Now what? I had hoped to meet the KLM flight at eleven and trail Anton van der Went to the meeting place with Frank.” Pen’s disappointment was palpable.

Gracie spread honey on a toast triangle. “I suppose we do as she said and wait for more info. Unless we can come up with a way to figure out where they might be planning to meet.”

Pen thought of the computer in Morrell’s room and wished now that she’d simply stolen it. The man had taken far more from her. It wouldn’t truly be wrong, would it?

“Well, we could sit outside his hotel and wait for him to leave, track him to the meeting spot,” Gracie suggested.

“I doubt he stayed there last night. He knows we know he’s in the city. He has to be thinking we would have reported his assault on you. My guess is that he watched the hotel from some distance and once the coast was clear—maybe the middle of the night—went in and took his most important things away. If this Anton came to town earlier this morning, odds are good they’ve already met.”

Gracie’s expression mirrored Pen’s own discouragement.

“Okay,” said Gracie, wiping her fingers on her napkin. “Before this message came we were all set to tell the police what we know about Morrell and report the attack. Let’s do that much. If we can’t locate him afterward, we’ll just have to get ourselves on a flight back home. Although I still want to see at least one castle or something.”

Her decisive words and light tone buoyed Pen a bit. They’d donned coats and gathered purses when Pen’s phone rang.

“I’ll make this quick—I know it’s expensive,” said Amber.

“If you have new information, it doesn’t matter.”

“Sandy’s with me, helping monitor some … stuff.”

Pen smiled at the way Amber tried to minimize the fact she’d hacked into off-limits sources.

“She spotted a text message exchange sent ten minutes ago between that van der Went guy and Frank Morrell. Here, I’m putting her on.”

Sandy’s voice sounded jubilant. “Pen? So good to hear your voice again! I can’t believe it’s midnight here, and I’m completely jazzed about being able to help out.”

Pen put her phone on speaker for Gracie’s benefit.

“Here’s what I found,” Sandy said. “This comes from Anton: ‘Meeting time changed. Be there at ten.’ Then Morrell answers back: ‘Where the hell is clock museum?’ Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes!” Gracie practically shouted. “I saw a clock museum on the map. It’s just a few blocks from here, an easy taxi ride, I’m sure.”

Pen looked at the time. “It’s already a little after nine. We’d better hurry.”

“Good luck,” came the response from the American side of the line.

Pen took a moment to ring the front desk and asked them to flag down a cab. Five minutes later, they were rolling.

“I’m a little worried about confronting both Morrell and the other man together,” Gracie confided as the taxi negotiated the winding streets. “We know Morrell isn’t above striking out at a woman, and this other guy could be even more dangerous.”

Pen’s mind raced. Of course, Gracie was right. An idea came to her and she pulled a small notebook from her purse. She jotted a note the next time the cab halted at a traffic light. Gracie smiled approval when she saw it.