The Fiddler's Secret (28 page)

In one swift movement, Libby put the violin back in its case and closed the cover. Without a sound, she set the violin on the closet shelf. Pulling the closet door partway shut, she turned back into the larger room. When a man entered the room, she was looking up at a wall filled with musical instruments.

“I didn't hear you come in,” the man said. “Have you been here long?”

Libby drew a deep breath and turned to face him. Before her stood the short, thin pawnbroker with a collar so high that it seemed he had no neck. Without a doubt he was the man who had threatened Jordan on the
Christina
.

What if he remembers me?
Libby thought, her heart pounding again.

She tried to speak calmly. “I'm looking for a violin for someone who plays well. Are these for sale?”

The man showed her three violins. Each time Libby took one, she looked it over and tried to play a note or two. Tucking the chin rest in place, she drew the bow across the strings. The screech sent shivers up her arm.

Libby forced herself to smile. “Good thing it's not for me.” Finally she said, “I'll talk to my father. If he's able to come today, how long are you open?”

When Libby turned toward the door, she nearly crashed into a tall man coming in. In the dim light of the pawnshop, his hat shadowed his face. Dressed for the cold, he wore a long black coat.

Then Libby realized who he was. Mr. Oliver White III! Inwardly she groaned.
I haven't seen him since August. Now two times in one day!

A startled look crossed his face. His hand went to the brim of his hat as though to lift it. “Miss Norstad,” he said. “I didn't realize you were in town.”

“Mr. White,” she answered just as politely. After avoiding him earlier, Libby had no choice but to talk with him now. “Are you living in St. Paul?”

The tall young man smiled. “I'm here for the winter. I've always been grateful to your father for introducing Miss Berg to me.”

And I've always wished he hadn't
, Libby thought.
Somehow you always show up at the wrong time
.

“Miss Berg is a splendid young woman.” Mr. White sounded
as if he had been seeing her every day.

“I'm sure she's a very good teacher,” Libby said. Her thoughts tumbled on.
And I'm sure you want to know where Annika is. Well, I'm not going to be the one who tells you!

“Are you finding what you need?” he asked.

Libby swallowed hard. “Yes, Mr. White,” she said softly. “I found everything I need.”

Outdoors once more, Libby took the street that ran along the side of the building. Sunshine had turned the snow to slush, and she walked quickly. She had almost reached the next corner when she turned around.

From there she could see the back wall of the pawnshop. Bars covered a door and two windows. A man stood at one of the windows, watching her.

Pretending that nothing was wrong, Libby turned and walked on.
Who is he?
she wondered. The bars on the window hid enough of the man's face, so she wasn't sure.

As she headed for Swede Hollow, frightened thoughts filled her mind.
Did I put the fiddle on the right shelf and leave the door the way I found it? Did I hide my excitement?

She had no way of being sure about anything. Her panic growing, Libby walked faster and faster. She was three blocks from the pawnshop when she heard a strange sound behind her.

Footsteps? No. The snow isn't cold enough for that
. Telling herself that she was being foolish, Libby pushed aside her uneasiness. Then she remembered.
Slush. Would I hear someone walking in slush?

Each time she glanced over her shoulder, she found nothing unusual and hurried on. Finally she felt so uneasy that she whirled around. In the split second before a man stepped out
of sight, Libby saw his face.
The man I drew on the boat. Tall. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Cruel lines around his mouth. The man whose picture I put in the
Christina's
safe. The man who probably searched my room. Mr. Trouble!

Libby gulped.
The voices in the back room. So Peter was right! Mr. Trouble and the pawnbroker are working together!

Libby broke into a run.
Why didn't I bring Samson along?

Before long her side ached, and Libby knew she couldn't make it to Swede Hollow. More than that, she didn't want to lead Mr. Trouble to Annika's house.

By now she was back on the street where she had purchased her art supplies. The general store was a welcome sight.
I'll be safe there! But just in case, someone needs to know where I am
.

Close to the building was a line of snow where the sun didn't reach. Tearing open her package, Libby grabbed a piece of charcoal. By the time she reached the door, she was ready. With one swift movement she reached down and drew a fish in the snow.

Once more she looked back. No one in sight. Libby ducked into the doorway. With a quick bound she was inside.

As she caught her breath, Libby looked around. The shopkeeper who helped her with art supplies was nowhere in sight. He had propped up a sign on the counter:

Trusting soul
, Libby thought.
Maybe the people of St. Paul are so honest it doesn't matter
.

Then Libby realized something else.
There's no one here to protect me
.

Her heart in her throat, Libby looked through the large panes of glass at the front of the store. Just then she saw Mr. Trouble come into view.

Like a rabbit fleeing from Wellington, Libby raced to the back of the room. Behind high shelves she stopped. A minute later the front door opened. Libby heard heavy footsteps crossing the store. Frantic now, she searched for a way to escape.

A door led to a back room. Libby turned the knob, and the door opened into total darkness. As far as Libby could tell, the room had no windows. Stepping inside, she left the door behind her cracked open to the light.

Closer and closer the footsteps came.
Is it Mr. Trouble?

Next to the partly opened door, Libby pressed against the wall and looked into the other room. In the shadows away from the front windows, she saw a movement. Then she heard the scratch of a match. A hand lifted the glass and lit the lamp on a low table.
It's Mr. Trouble, all right!

The man had his own secret hideaway. High shelves, shovels, and rakes hid him from the rest of the store. As Libby wondered what to do, she heard more footsteps.

Soon the pawnbroker entered the small area. He carried a violin case. Carefully he set it on the table with the lamp.

Libby felt sure the case was the one she had taken from the pawnbroker's closet. Inside was the violin made from wood more beautiful than anything Libby had ever seen. With all her heart, she believed that violin belonged to Franz Kadosa.

Then the pawnbroker spoke. “Where is he?”

Where is who?
Libby wondered and hoped the shopkeeper would return.

“He'll be here in a minute,” Mr. Trouble answered.

“Always wants us to do his dirty work,” the pawnbroker complained.

A third man is coming?
Libby felt weak with dread.

Five minutes. Ten minutes passed. But when the man appeared, Libby was relieved. From her hiding place in the back room, she saw his face.
Annika's friend, Mr. White
. In spite of her dislike for him, Libby felt sure Mr. White would help her.

As Libby started to step out, she noticed the man's black coat and the line of his black hat. Libby moved back.
Why does it seem familiar?

With a jolt, Libby knew. The man at the fiddler's concert. The man standing along one side of the
Christina
's cabin, wearing a long black coat and a black hat.
Shadow Man!

It would have taken only one minute to leave his hat and coat in his stateroom, then walk over to meet Annika!

Now Mr. White walked to the table and the violin case.

“Brought it here like you said,” the pawnbroker told him. “I'm expecting an extra cut for doing it. No one saw you carry it through the streets, if that's what you were worried about.”

As though barely hearing the pawnbroker, Mr. White nodded. “I'll wrap it in furs when I leave this miserable climate.”

Leaning down, Mr. White moved the violin case closer to the lamp. As he opened the cover, the light reflected up on the left side of his face.

Libby gasped.
A red mark just below his jawline!

She edged back from the doorway. As clearly as if it were yesterday, she remembered the August day the violin was stolen. The hurried footsteps through a cargo area, the thief had probably explored in case he ever needed it. The sound of a
door opening and closing. The empty deck on the side away from the gangplank.

The thief had hurried along that deck. He had turned the corner to reach Mr. Oliver White's trunk. A trunk large enough to slip a violin case inside!
All he had to do was catch his breath and stand still!

Libby's thoughts raced on.
So Mr. White hid the violin in his own trunk, then in the pawnshop. If someone found it there, Mr. White wouldn't be blamed for the theft. No wonder he decided not to sell the violin. He's waiting to use it himself! And the pawnshop owner brought it here to the general store
.

Remembering Annika's words to Pa was the most upsetting of all.
“We have a lot in common,”
she had said about Mr. White.
“We both like music.”
What if Annika had let herself be swept away by Mr. White's money and good looks? Instead, she wanted to marry a man of God!

As Libby thought only about getting away, the pawnbroker spoke. “Where's the girl?”

“In the back room,” Mr. Trouble answered.

“Good. Then she's trapped.”

Trapped!
A cold chill went down Libby's spine. Filled with terror, she wondered if she could move. Then she stretched out her hands and felt her way through an open space in the darkness.
There has to be a back door! But please, God, tell someone I need help!

Step by slow step, Libby edged her way past shapes that would clatter with one wrong touch.
Don't make a sound
.

A moment later, Libby stumbled across something. As she reached out to catch herself, she felt the fur of an animal. A scream rose in her throat.

Libby clapped her hand over her mouth. Standing there in the dark, she started to shake. Then she began to pray.
Oh, God, forgive me. Forgive me for not taking Samson along
.

Waiting, Libby listened for a sound from the front room. Again she prayed.
Please, Lord, lead me out of the dark. Help me be strong in You
.

In that moment she remembered Pa taking her hand. Holding her hand in his, he had given her Ma's cross. Pa's hand felt big compared to her own.
It's that way with God
.

Standing there in the dark, caught between three men and the fur of some unknown animal, Libby told herself again,
It's that way with God
.

As Libby's head cleared, she realized that the animal hadn't moved. Again she reached out. This time when she touched the fur, she felt her way across it. Even in the dark she knew what it was. One of the tightly packed bundles of fur stolen from the warehouse!

Hands out, Libby started walking again. When she bumped against the back wall, she felt her way until she found a door, then the knob.

The door swung open to a third room. To Libby's relief it had two windows and a door. Once again she could see!

No longer could Libby hear the men's voices. Eager now, she moved quickly to the outside door. A strong latch held in place by a big padlock!

Seeing it, Libby felt sick.
“She's trapped,”
the pawnbroker had said. For a moment Libby stared at the door she could not open. When she tested the windows, she found they were nailed shut. Worse still, there were bars on the outside.

Libby groaned. Filled with despair, she sank to the floor.

CHAPTER 22