Lost Locket in Lisbon

By Ingrid Rustin

In our introduction of the Intrepid Traveler series, we follow our heroines Millie and Flo as they search Lisbon for a lost family heirloom – a silver locket holding a secret that can change the fate of whoever wears it.

Set in post-War Portugal, this story is inspired by the real lives and adventures of Mona and Virgina, two women who travelled Europe extensively after WW II. Scenes and characters are drawn from photos and notes these two brave adventurers took as they blazed a trail decades ahead of their time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ingrid Rustin
• Release date: Mar 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781943121724

Book preview

Lost Locket in Lisbon

An Intrepid Traveler Mystery

Ingrid Rustin

image-placeholder

Witching Hour Publishing Inc

Lost Locket in Lisbon is a fictional work. The characters, places and events portrayed in this book are from the imagination of the author or are used fictitiously. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for the author or any third party websites or publications or their content.

Copyright © 2022 by Ingrid Rustin

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Creator: CJ Norby

Contents

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

9. Chapter Nine

10. Chapter Ten

11. Chapter Eleven

12. Chapter Twelve

13. Chapter Thirteen

14. Chapter Fourteen

15. Chapter Fifteen

16. Chapter Sixteen

17. Chapter Seventeen

18. Chapter Eighteen

19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

1952 – Lisbon, Portugal

Hans Odermatt liked his routines. A small, timid man, he found routines safe. They allowed him to pass virtually unnoticed through the hustle and bustle of city life. This spring morning was no different and Hans set about starting his workday rituals. He rose and dressed, washed his face, and combed his thinning hair over his increasing bald spot. Making sure his pocket watch was wound, he went down the stairs from the apartment over his little shop. In the small back room of his store, he fed his cat and then wound the old alarm clock that sat behind the display counter. While the cat ate, Mr. Odermatt walked around his shop, making sure nothing was amiss. He cast a critical eye over the locked door and windows, wiped imaginary dust off a display case, and nodded in satisfaction. All was as it should be.

When the cat was done, Hans let the orange tabby out the back door and exited himself.

With the door securely locked behind him, he turned up the alley to the main street and began walking the several blocks to the market. The market was always bustling at that time of the morning, with the fisher women selling their fresh caught sardines and other delicacies on the corners, housewives getting their daily bread and cheese, and the occasional child wandering through snitching an apple from the fruit vendor’s cart.

At a small stall on the far side, Mr. Odermatt would pick up his café pingado, espresso with a little milk, and morning sandwich, a papo-seco with ham and cheese.

Dressed in brown tweed, Mr. Odermatt was the type of man who could blend into just about any crowd. Diminutive in stature, and with no distinguishing features other than perhaps his small rimless glasses, anonymity was exactly what he sought. The War had been a frightening time, and Hans Odermatt was an unusually cautious man. Everyone had done things during the War to survive, but Hans had perhaps a few more marks in the naughty column than most.

Avoiding touching people as he wove through the morning shoppers, he walked past the old woman setting out her hand made pottery, dodged two women arguing over the freshness of the fish on display, and finally arrived at the coffee stall. There were several other customers in line, so Hans waited patiently. Making a fuss over anything was a sure way to draw attention.

When it was his turn, he placed his order, paid the vendor, and moved to the side of the cart. He glanced across the plaza and felt his heart give a hard thump. It wasn’t possible, he thought. He peered round the corner of the coffee stall and tried to study the man walking through the crowd without being obvious. Same build and features a little older, and there! It was him. What was he doing here? Hans’ heart did a double thump. He ducked further behind the stall and hoped he hadn’t been seen.

"Senhor, seu pedido!" said the coffee vendor.

Hans was so distracted he didn’t hear the vendor until the man shouted at him. He saw the other man begin to turn toward the disturbance, and Hans ducked his head, grabbing the small cup and the paper bag. Hurrying away, his back to the plaza, he could only pray he hadn’t been seen.

He arrived back at his shop and quickly let himself inside. Taking a deep breath, he set his food and coffee down on his desk, set the alarm for lunch time, and went to unlock the front door, turning the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.

A long glass display case ran along each side of the main room, with a shorter one near the back, forming a broken U shape. As he walked back to his desk, he stopped at a case that sat atop the counter on the left. Inside were a variety of smaller items, jewelry and snuff boxes and the like. Centered on blue velvet was his favorite piece, a silver antique locket.

He stood and gazed at it for a minute or two, wondering why he still had it. It was the last piece left of the items he had brought with him from Switzerland, six years before. He’d never put a price on it, telling anyone who came in and expressed interest that it was spoken for.

The locket wasn’t particularly ornate, having only a small design, an Egyptian ankh, etched on the front. There were no pictures inside, and it hung from a rather plain, though well-made silver chain. The woman who had sold it to him had been desperate and accepted a fraction of its value in her urgency to flee Belgium. Sighing, he shook his head and made his way to the counter to have his now late breakfast. His routine was off, and that meant he’d have to eat quickly to get himself back on schedule.

image-placeholder

Several hours later the doorbell to the shop tinkled, and Hans looked up quickly. All morning he had been anxious a certain man from his past might come through the door, but as the hours went by and nothing happened, he began to relax. This time was no exception. The person who entered was only a local boy. The young man stood in the doorway with a friendly smile blinking from the change in lighting and allowing his eyes to adjust. Hans expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and stood from his desk.

Good afternoon. May I assist you in finding something? he asked politely.

The young man smiled and nodded. "Yes, please, senhor. I am looking for a gift for my fiancé. Well, I hope she will become my fiancé. I have money," he said quickly.

Hans smiled politely, pegging the young man as someone from one of the coastal villages. Looking at him more closely, Hans saw that his clothes were perhaps a bit nicer than the fisherman usually wore, even for special occasions, and thought this man might be trying to work his way up in the world.

Yes. We have many fine items. I’m sure we can find you something for the lovely senhorita, Hans said. Come in, come in. Please, here. We have rings, earrings, many fine lovely things a lady would enjoy. Hans winked at the young man. "And encourage her to perhaps say those magic words, ja?"

The boy blushed, nodded, and tried to look casual as he perused the offerings in the display case. The locket twinkled, a shaft of sunlight from a high window reflecting off the polished silver. What about the locket? How much is that?

Hans stopped cold. The locket. Of course, of anything it would be that damn locket today, he thought. Hans looked down at it and felt a wave of dread tingle down his spine. The locket, Fuchs, the boy. Too many coincidences for one day. It was time to get rid of the thing, and the last piece of evidence to his old life.

Plastering a big smile on his face he turned to the boy and said, Lovely choice young man. A silver locket, antique, we don’t know how old, it’s simple and understated, but has withstood ages. As a marriage should, no?

Pedro smiled and nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

You have made a fine selection. Let’s settle on a price, shall we?

image-placeholder

As he watched the sun begin to set outside his little shop, Hans Odermatt felt old and tired. The lurking sense of danger had not left him, and though he told himself he was safe, the day had been long and stressful. He locked the front door, checked the latches on the small windows, even though he had never opened them, wound his small desk clock, and turned off his desk lamp.

His cat wasn’t back from whatever adventures on the streets of Lisbon a cat gets into, and Hans stood at the back door, peering down the alley. When he saw no one, human or animal, he sighed and shut the door, locking it and wedging a steel bar across. The cat had come with him from Switzerland, and after having survived the journey to Lisbon, Hans wasn’t worried about the tabby spending a night outside. He made his way up to his apartment with slow steps. He thought he should feel relieved. The locket was gone, out of his hands and no longer a threat. He hadn’t been seen, or he would have been paid a visit. Hans had never changed his name when he escaped to Portugal, so he wouldn’t be that hard to find.

And where had that cat gone to? he thought as he began his nighttime routine and set the