Once Upon a Crime Read Free

business. She cleared her throat.
    â€œIt is rapidly becoming clear to me, Frau Hapsburg, that this case is far more complicated than I had been led to believe.Three cats, all of different colors, chosen among so very many. So very, very many.” She felt herself becoming more lightheaded. The cats picked up on her vulnerability and became suddenly active, jumping from chair to chair, thrashing their snaky tails from side to side, dozens of eyes all focused on her. Soon she was completely surrounded and any purring had been replaced by low growling. The bells rang louder. Just as Gretel feared she might faint and be set upon by the vile creatures, she spotted the source of the music.
    Every cat wore a velvet collar, suspended from which was a small brass bell.
    â€œThe taken cats—did they have collars like those? With the bells on?”
    â€œOh, yes. All my kitties wear them. Such a beautiful sound, don’t you think?”
    The itching had spread considerably farther up. At the thought of fleas burrowing about in her underwear, Gretel began to feel nauseous. So desperate was she to leave that she even forgot to pursue her planned demand for further funds.
    â€œExcellent. I think I have all I need for now,” she said, backing hastily toward the hallway, dodging swiping paws and claws as she went. “I’ll see myself out. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have news.”
    She bolted from the house, gasping for clean air. All thoughts of calling in at the Kaffee Haus vanished as she turned left down Kirschbaum Avenue, heading straight for the apothecary on the west side of town. She needed flea repellent and itch treatment and she needed them at once.
    She covered the ground with surprising speed for one so large, particularly when taking into account her unsuitable shoes. Her route took her past the smoldering space that was all that remained of the carriage maker’s workshop. She was just hurrying by, more than a little red in the face and out ofbreath, when she noticed Kingsman Kapitan Strudel poking about in the rubble with his standard-issue regimental baton. A handful of his subordinates danced in attendance.
    It had been three days since the blaze that razed Herr Hund’s business to the ground had woken Gretel from her slumber. The roaring of the flames as they consumed the wooden building and the carriages within it had indeed roused most of the Gesternstadt inhabitants. A fire in a town constructed largely of wood was not a matter to be taken lightly. Rumor spread with the smoke: this had been no accident. But Herr Hund was a harmless pudding of a man with two clean-living sons and no known enemies. Why anyone would want to destroy his business was a mystery to everyone, not least the irascible Kingsman Kapitan Strudel. The sight of Gretel did nothing to improve his perma-scowl. She was all too well aware that he despised the way she pushed her nose into what he considered his business. This loathing was in no small part due to the fact that Strudel was a useless detective, and Gretel was, against all odds, a good one.
    â€œGood afternoon to you, Kapitan. I’m pleased to see you so committed to your work. Three days and still sifting the ruins of Hund’s livelihood for clues. Such dedication. It must be a great comfort to the unfortunate man to know he is in such capable hands.” The continuing itching in Gretel’s nether regions forced her to stride about in an attempt to quell the irritation and stop herself tearing at her beautifully cut skirts. Strudel pulled himself up to his full height, which still left him six inches shorter than Gretel.
    â€œYou’ve no business being here,” he told her. “This is a crime scene.”
    â€œOh, I was just passing.”
    Something on the ground caught Gretel’s attention. At first she thought she must be mistaken, but no, her eyes were notplaying tricks. She crunched over the sooty debris for a better