Gretel and the Case of the Missing Frog Prints by P. J. Brackston

marrying Ferdinand and being taken on a winter honeymoon somewhere. She shook the foolish notion from her thoughts, but it didn’t stop her squinting at the price tag. It was only when her nose bumped against the glass that she realized she could not get close enough to the thing to make out the figures. The fact irked her. She had never before failed to read such important details, but today the numbers were a blur. Gretel gave a loud tut of annoyance. Not only was this minor incapacity an inconvenience, it was a sign that her sight might be on the wane, which was an unwelcome reminder of how the years were passing. What she was still capable of seeing clearly, however, was the beautiful pair of lorgnettes the model held in her lap. The glasses were trimmed with filigreesilver, the long handle worked in a similar style, with a lacy chain on which to hang them around the neck when not in use. It occurred to Gretel that there might be some benefit to failing vision, after all, if one could then justify purchasing such a lovely thing.
    â€œGood morning, Fraulein Gretel.” A cheerful female voice dragged her from her daydreaming. She turned to find Valeri behind her, pushing a wheeled chair containing a sleeping Herr Durer.
    â€œAh, Valeri. This is fortuitous. I was hoping to have a word with Herr Durer.”
    â€œAs you can see, Fraulein, he is taking a nap.” The old man was wrapped cozily in soft woolen blankets and looked wonderfully peaceful and not quite his full one hundred and five years whilst in repose. It would be sinful to disturb him. “Why don’t you come to the suite a little later on? For coffee, perhaps? I am certain Albrecht . . .” Valeri smiled and corrected herself, “. . . Herr Durer, would be delighted to see you and to hear what progress you are making with your investigation.”
    â€œOh yes, a deal of progress, I promise you. I am even now examining the exterior of the hotel,” she waved a hand vaguely in its direction. “The windows, walls, that sort of thing. The front is, of course, very grand, and very public. Not likely anybody could scale the facade without being noticed, even at night. I shall, in a moment, proceed to the rear of the building.”
    Valeri nodded attentively.
    â€œAnd naturally I have begun to interview people, starting with Herr Schoenberg. I should very much like to talk to Herr Durer’s nephew as soon as possible.”
    â€œOh, Leopold is very distressed that the pictures have gone,” said Valeri.
    â€œNo doubt, as he must likely have stood to inherit them, Herr Durer having no other heirs, as I understand it.”
    â€œOh no,” Valeri shook her head, glancing about to see they were not overheard before continuing in a whisper, “Herr Durer never intended to leave the frog prints to Leopold. He wanted them to go to the Nuremberg Art Gallery.”
    â€œAnd Leopold knew this?”
    â€œHe did. He was most unhappy about it and tried many times to persuade his uncle to change his mind.”
    â€œI’m sure he did. Just as I’m sure Dr. Phelps would have put pressure on your employer to see that they did go to the gallery.”
    â€œHa, that man!” Valeri’s face darkened in a way that astonished Gretel. The girl seemed in possession of the sunniest of dispositions, and yet the mention of the art collector’s name changed her in an instant.
    â€œYou do not care for him?”
    Valeri chose her words with caution. “He sets himself up as an example to others. I will say no more than that he is not the upright citizen he claims to be.”
    Gretel wanted very much to press her further, but she saw by the determined set of the girl’s mouth that she was not ready to talk more. Not yet. What could Phelps ever have done to turn the girl against him so? Surely Herr Durer would not permit her to be misused or even offended whilst she was in his employ. It must then be