The Tudor Deception by Scott Mariani

Author:Scott Mariani [Mariani, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

It was 9.28 a.m., just two minutes before the existing phone line was due to be switched over to the new. Ben hesitated, then thought fuck it and on an impulse ran down the stairs to where the phone sat on its little alcove table, hard-wired into the wall fixture. Before it could stop ringing he snatched the old-fashioned receiver from its cradle. ‘Ja? Hallo?’

‘Rudi?’ It was a woman’s voice on the line, and she sounded tremendously excited and relieved to talk to him. ‘It’s me, Ingrid,’ she gushed in German. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling! I didn’t know what to think.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ben said. ‘If you’re looking for Rudi Bergenroth, I’m afraid you’ve missed him.’ Thinking on his feet, he added, ‘This is his cousin, Stefan.’

‘Oh.’ Ingrid sounded crestfallen. ‘I thought you were him. Your voice sounds a little the same. Or maybe I just wanted you to be,’ she said bitterly, after a pause. ‘Do you know where he is?’

‘No,’ Ben replied truthfully, ‘I have no idea.’

‘Huh. Then he left, did he. Just like that, without a word. No goodbye, nothing.’ Ingrid’s voice sounded tight. Then she broke down and started crying. ‘I mean, I’ve always known he was a bit of a rolling stone. But to just disappear without even telling me – I thought he loved me!’

Rudi Bergenroth, the heartbreaker. ‘I’m afraid my cousin was always that way inclined,’ Ben said. ‘He moves around a lot.’

She replied, sniffing, ‘Oh, I knew that. I had no illusions. Are you trying to find him, too?’

‘As a matter of fact I am,’ Ben said. ‘There’s an important family matter I needed to talk to him about. But the house is vacated and he didn’t leave a forwarding address.’

‘I’m just so devastated,’ Ingrid said. ‘I wish I knew where he’d gone.’

‘Maybe you could help me find him.’

‘Or you could help me,’ she replied. ‘I’m desperate to speak with him, even if it’s just to say goodbye properly. To hear his voice one last time.’ She started crying again. Poor Ingrid really had it badly.

Ben glanced at the time. Almost nine-thirty. The phone line could be cut off at any moment. Werner Gattermayr was still pacing and talking in the street outside. ‘Ingrid, do you live nearby?’ Ben asked. ‘Because if you do, I was thinking maybe we could meet and talk. Perhaps you and I might be able to figure out where he went, between us.’

Ingrid clearly wasn’t the most streetwise of ladies, to fall for what could easily have been a lure by a total stranger. But in her moment of weakness she replied, ‘Oh, das wäre doch wunderbar! That would be wonderful! I live in Eschen. It’s maybe ten or fifteen minutes’ drive from there and I’m here at home all day today. Why don’t you come over?’

Ingrid gave her address, and Ben finished jotting it down on the back of his hand just as the phone went dead. He hurried downstairs and outside, to find that the estate agent had finished his own phone call.

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