Scipio angrily bit his lip, but the dogs began to growl again so Prosper quickly dragged him away.
"Better do what she says, Scip!" he urged as they walked toward the stables, which looked just as decrepit as the main house. "We've got all night to think about what to do next. And we can't do that if we end up as the dogs' dinner. And you won't be riding the merry-go-round then either."
"OK, OK." Scipio flashed the girl a vicious look.
"Please enter, gentlemen!" she said, opening the stable doors. It was pitch black inside and they were greeted by a stench that made Scipio's face screw up in disgust.
"In there?" he called. "Do you want to kill us?"
"Would you rather I left you the dogs for company?" the girl asked. She put her hands on the mastiffs' huge heads.
"Come on now, Scip!" Prosper pulled Scipio into the dark building. A few rats scurried away as the girl shined her light after them.
"There should be some old sacks back there," she said. "They should do for the night. The rats are not very hungry. There's enough for them to eat around here, so they won't bother you tonight. You can forget about finding a way out of here -- there isn't one. I will also leave the dogs outside. Buonanotte!" With that she shut the door. Prosper heard her push a heavy bolt across it. The darkness was so complete that Prosper couldn't even see his own hands.
"Prop!" Scipio whispered next to him. "Are you afraid of rats? I'm scared to death."
"I've gotten used to them. We had lots in the movie theater." Prosper listened in the darkness. He heard the girl talking to the dogs outside. She spoke to them with a quiet, tender voice.
"How sweet," Scipio muttered. Suddenly, there was a rustling noise behind him, and Scipio gave such a start that he nearly knocked Prosper over.
They heard the girl's steps receding and the dogs settling down in front of the door. As soon as their eyes had gotten used to the dark, they searched for the sacks the girl had mentioned. But when a rat ran over Scipio's foot they decided not to sleep on the floor. Instead, they found two wooden barrels to lie on, and propped them against the wall.
"He'll just have to let us take a ride!" Scipio said after a while into the blackness. "I mean, he was the one who cheated on us."
"Hmmph," Prosper grunted.
He could imagine only too well what else the Conte could do to them if he chose. And then all of a sudden he remembered Bo. It was the first time he'd thought of him since he'd jumped into Scipio's boat. He wondered whether he would ever see his brother again.
41 A Late Night Phone Call
It was past midnight when Victor heard the phone ring. He pulled the pillow over his head, but it kept ringing and ringing until he finally crept out of his warm bed and stumbled over the tortoise box into his office.
"Who the devil is that?" he growled into the receiver while he rubbed his aching toe.
"He's run away again!" Esther Hartlieb sounded so breathless that Victor didn't understand her at first. "But I'm telling you, this time we won't take him back. No chance! The little devil pulled the tablecloth off the table, right in the middle of the best restaurant in town! And while we sat there with our pasta in our laps, he just ran away." Victor heard her sob. "My husband has always said that the boy wasn't right for us and that he's just like my sister. But he has such an angel face...Anyway, they've thrown us out of the hotel, because he screamed so much they suspected us of beating him. Can you imagine? First he doesn't say a word and then he has a fit just because I try to put some clean socks on him. He even bit my husband! He cut holes in the curtain with my scissors and he poured the coffee from the balcony ..." Esther Hartlieb gasped for breath, "... My husband and I are flying back home on Monday as we had planned. Should my nephews get picked up by the police, then please have them put in an orphanage. There are supposed to be some good institutions here in this city. Did you hear me, Signor Getz? Signor Getz ..."
Victor was carving patterns into his desk with his letter opener. "How long has that little boy been out there now, all on his own?" he asked coldly. "When did he run away?"
"A few hours ago. We had to settle matters with the restaurant first. And then we had to find another hotel with all our luggage. All the decent places are booked up. Now we're in some awfully primitive place near the Rial to Bridge."
A few hours. Victor ran his hand over his tired face and looked outside. The night crouched above the houses, dark and cold, like an animal that eats little boys.
"Did you call the police?" Victor asked. "Is someone looking for Bo now? Your husband, perhaps?"
"What do you mean?" Esther's voice turned shrill. "Do you seriously think one of us is going to go running around through those dark alleys? After all the boy has done to us tonight? We most certainly are not! We're at the end of our rope. I don't even want to hear his name mentioned ever again. I --"
Victor didn't put the phone down. He just dropped the receiver. Still numb with sleep, he started to get dressed.
When he stepped out of the door, the sharp, cold air greeted him, bringing tears to his eyes. Well, at least it was better than bucketing rain, Victor thought as he pulled his hat down over his face. The previous winter the town had been underwater several times, deep enough for a small boy like Bo to be washed away. The lagoon now flooded Venice more and more often, something that in the past only happened every five years or so. Victor didn't want to think about that right now. He felt miserable enough as it was.
His feet were like lead as he stumbled along the sparsely lit alleys and over the cobbles covered with silvery frost. There was only one place where Bo would hide. He didn't know, after all, that Prosper and his friends had found refuge with Ida Spavento. Victor snuffled and wiped his icy nose with his sleeve. The poor little kid didn't know a thing.
It was a long way from Victor's place to the children's old hideout. He was frozen to the bone when he finally reached the movie theater. I'll have to get myself a better coat, he thought as he fumbled for the right lock pick. Luckily, Dottor Massimo hadn't yet had the lock replaced. The lobby was also still full of trash -- as if nothing had happened since the night when the children took Victor prisoner. When he entered the auditorium he heard faint crying.
"Bo?" he called out. "Bo, it's me, Victor. Come here. Or do you want to play hide-and-seek again?"
"I'm not going back to her!" a tearful little voice said out of the darkness. "I just want to be with Prosper."
"You don't have to go back." Victor let the beam of his flashlight wander across the seats until the light fell on blonde hair. Bo was crawling between the seats, as if he was looking for something.
"They're gone, Victor!" he sobbed. "They're gone."
"Who?" Victor bent down toward him and Bo turned his tear-stained face up to the detective. "My kittens," he sniveled, "and Hornet."
"Nobody's gone." Victor helped Bo up and wiped the tears off his cheeks. "They're all at Ida Spavento's house: Hornet, Prosper, Riccio, Mosca, and your kittens." He sat down on a folding seat and pulled Bo on to his lap. "I've heard some terrible things about you, mister," he said. "Pulling down tablecloths, screaming, running away. Do you know that your aunt and uncle have been thrown out of their hotel?"