The Thief Lord
The boys were dumbfounded. "Fake money?" Riccio yanked the money from Victor's hand and looked at it. "I can't see anything. Looks real to me."
"Well, it isn't," Victor answered. He reached into the bag and took another wad from it. "It's all counterfeit," he asserted. "And it's not even a good forgery. Looks like someone made them with a color-copier. I'm sorry." He threw the money back and sighed. The boys looked shocked.
"All for nothing," Riccio muttered. "The break-in, the trip across the lagoon. We nearly got shot, and for what? A pile of counterfeit money. Darn it!" He swiped the bag off the table. The wads of cash scattered all over Victor's kitchen floor.
"And now Hornet and Bo are gone as well!" Mosca buried his face in his hands.
"Exactly!" Victor gathered the money from the floor and stuffed it back into the bag. "And that's what we should be working on right now. Where are Bo and the girl?" He got up with a deep sigh and walked across into his office. The three boys, pale as ghosts, followed him.
"The answering machine is blinking," Mosca observed as they all stood in front of the desk.
"One day I'll throw that machine off the balcony," Victor complained. He pressed play.
Prosper immediately recognized the voice. He would have known Esther's voice even if he had heard her announcing train times at Venice's main station.
"Signor Getz, this is Esther Hartlieb. Your case has resolved itself today. We finally managed to find our nephew with the help of an old lady who had seen our poster. Apparently Bo had been hiding for weeks in some dilapidated movie theater, together with some girl who didn't want to give us her name. The police are taking care of her. As far as Bo is concerned, he is rather confused and quite thin. He hasn't said anything about his brother's whereabouts yet. Who knows, perhaps he's just as angry with him as I am. We can talk about your fee in the next few days. We'll be in the Sandwirth until the beginning of next week. Please call before you come. Good-bye."
Prosper stood completely still, as if he had just been turned to stone. Victor didn't know what to say. He would have liked to say something to cheer the boy up. But he couldn't think of anything.
"What old lady?" Riccio asked in a small voice. "Darn it! Who could that be?"
"Since yesterday, Prosper's aunt has been distributing posters all over Venice," Victor explained, "with a picture of Prosper and Bo." He chose not to tell them who had taken that photograph. "There was also something on it about a generous reward. Haven't you seen them?"
The boys shook their heads.
"Well, that old lady obviously did," Victor concluded. "Maybe she lives near the movie theater. She could have seen you sneaking in and out of there. Perhaps she even thought she was doing a good deed when she called the poor boy's aunt."
Prosper still hadn't moved. He was looking out at Victor's balcony. It had grown quite light by now, but the sky was gray and cloudy. "Esther is never going to let go of Bo," he whispered. "Never." He gave Victor a look of utter desperation. "Where is the Sandwirth?"
Victor wasn't sure he should tell him, but Mosca made that decision for him. "On the Riva degli Schiavoni," he answered, "but what do you want there? You'd better come back to the hideout with us. We have to get our stuff before the police turn up again. Maybe in the meantime Victor can find out where the police have taken Hornet." He looked inquiringly at Victor.
The detective nodded. "Sure. A few phone calls will do it. Just give me her real name."
Riccio looked stunned. "We don't know it."
"There's a name written in some of her books," Prosper said tonelessly. "Caterina Grimani. But that won't do any good. They probably took her to some home, and you'll never get her out of there again. Just like Bo."
"Prosper," Victor got up and went over to him, "come on, it's not the end of the world."
"It is." Prosper opened the door. "I need to be alone right now."
"You try," said Prosper. "I don't care anymore." Then he pulled the door closed behind him.
36 The Refuge
Riccio rang the bell and the housekeeper opened the door. His spiky head was hidden behind the huge box he was carrying.
"Don't I know you?" the lady grumbled suspiciously, pushing up her glasses.
"Right!" Riccio gave her his broadest grin. "But this time I'm not here to see you, but Ida Spavento."
"Is that so?" The housekeeper crossed her arms in front of her enormous bosom. "That's Signora Spavento to you, you rascal. And may I ask what you want from her?"
"This should be interesting," said Victor, who was standing behind Riccio with an even bigger box. All the children's belongings had fitted into just three cardboard cartons. Mosca was carrying the third. The two kittens poked their heads out of Victor's coat pockets.
"Tell her that Riccio and Mosca are here. She'll know who we are," Riccio said.
"Riccio and Mosca? That's only two." The big lady scrutinized Victor. "And is he your father?"
"... their uncle," Victor answered. "Could you please call Signora Spavento, before this box falls on my feet? It's really quite heavy."
The housekeeper gave him such a stern look that Victor immediately felt like a little boy. But in the end off she went. When she returned she opened the door wordlessly and waved the three of them inside.
Victor was curious about Ida Spavento. "She's a bit weird," Riccio had told him, "and she smokes like a chimney. But she's really nice."
Victor wasn't too sure about that. Going out in the lagoon with three children in the middle of the night to follow a mysterious man who had sent those little thieves into her house in the first place -- no, that didn't really sound nice to Victor. Crazy, maybe. But nice? No.
But when he saw Ida kneeling on her living room carpet, wearing a sweater that was far too large for her, he liked her. However much he wanted not to.
Ida was leaning over a lineup of photographs. She was pushing them around, swapping them, and sorting some of them out. "Well, isn't this a nice surprise!" she said as Victor and the boys entered. "I didn't expect a visit from you quite so soon. What's in those boxes, and where did you suddenly get an uncle from?" She pushed the photographs together and got up.
Oh dear, Victor thought, she's wearing gondola earrings.
"We're in a lot of trouble, Ida," said Mosca. He put down his carton. Sighing, Riccio did the same.
"Are the fat lady's dogs here?" Riccio asked. "Because Victor has got some kittens in his coat."
"You mean Lucia's dogs? No, we locked them out in the garden because they ate my chocolates." Ida frowned as she looked at the boys. "What kind of trouble? What's happened?"
"Someone told the police about our hideout!" Mosca answered. "And the Carabinieri have taken Hornet and Bo. Prosper is desperate because ..."