“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
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 Rialto 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?”
“Really?” Bo sniffed loudly and buried his face in Victor’s coat. “I was angry,” he mumbled. “Esther wouldn’t tell me where Prosper was.”
“Well, well.” Victor pushed his handkerchief into Bo’s dirty hands. “Here. Blow your nose. Prosper’s fine. He’s probably lying in a soft bed dreaming of his little brother right now.”
“She wanted to make a part in my hair,” Bo muttered. He ran his hands over his messy thatch as if wanting to make sure that Esther’s efforts had been in vain. “She wouldn’t let me jump on the bed and she wanted to throw away the sweater Hornet gave me and she told me off because there was a little stain” — Bo indicated the size with his fingers — “and she kept wiping my face. And she said horrible things about Prosper.”
“Did she really?” Victor shook his head with deep sympathy.
Bo rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I’m cold,” he said quietly. “Can you take me to Prosper, Victor?”
Victor nodded. “I will,” he said. But just as he was about to lift him up, Bo ducked between the seats.
“There’s someone there!” he whispered.
Victor turned around.
A man was standing in the door to the lobby. He was shining a huge light into the auditorium. “What are you doing in there?” he called out with a rasping voice when the spotlight stopped on Victor.
Victor got up. “The boy’s kitten ran away,” he said calmly, as if he found nothing strange about being in a shut-down movie theater in the middle of the night. “He thought it came in here, through the emergency exit. The movie theater is closed down, right?”
“Yes, but the owner, Dottor Massimo, has asked me to keep an eye on the place. Just the other day two street kids were picked up here. Behind you there …” the man waved with his light, “… is that a child?”
“Well observed!” Victor stroked Bo’s damp hair. “But this one is no street-kid. This is my son. As I said, he was just looking for his kitten.” Victor looked around. “This is a beautiful movie theater. Why was it closed?”
The man shrugged. “Dottor Massimo wants to turn it into a supermarket, after all the trouble he’s had with it. Could you please leave now. There are no kittens here, and even if there were, they’d be dead by now. I put down some rat poison.”
“We’ve gone already!” Victor pushed Bo toward the emergency exit.
“The curtain,” he said suddenly. “Look, Victor, they pulled it down.”
The heavy fabric lay on the floor, crumpled and dirty.
“What are you going to do with the curtain?” Victor called to the guard who was about to disappear into the lobby.
The man turned around reluctantly. “Listen, it’s late!” he called. “Why don’t you just leave with your little one. Take the curtain, if you’re so interested.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?” Victor grumbled.
Then he pulled a penknife from his pocket and cut a large piece out of the embroidered fabric. “Here,” he said as he pushed it into Bo’s hand. “A souvenir.”
“Is Scipio at Ida’s as well?” Bo asked as they finally stepped through the emergency exit.
“No,” Victor replied, as he wrapped the boy in the blanket he’d wisely brought with him. Then he lifted Bo up in his arms. “He’s probably at home. I don’t think he’s very popular with your friends right now.”
“But his daddy’s horrible,” Bo mumbled. He had trouble keeping his eyes open. “You’re much nicer.”
He wrapped his short arms around Victor’s neck and squeezed his face against his shoulder. He was already fast asleep when they reached the Accademia Bridge. And so Victor carried him through the silent and empty alleys all the way to Ida Spavento’s house.
42
Ida opened the door herself. She was wearing a bright red dressing gown and her eyes were bloods

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