Read Online Trouble in Transylvania by Barbara Wilson - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Wilson
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Gerbeaud’s in Pest. There we’d briefly commiserate about our current, if temporary, fate as secretaries in Budapest, and then spend the rest of the time arguing about how serious Jack had really been about converting to Hinduism in Java, if it had really rained the entire month we were in Chile and whether I still owed Jack money for the train fare to Recife from São Paulo.
Late one afternoon, as we were on our second strudel at the espresso bar, the door opened and in came Eva, clutching her cellular phone in some agitation. Jack and I both started guiltily—such was the effect this hard-working Hungarian entrepreneur had on us. My first thought was that Señor Martínez had come to grief somewhere in Szeged, where he’d gone to introduce his fixtures and where I’d refused to accompany him. But that was incorrect.
“It’s a murder,” Eva said, pointing at the phone as if the terrible news were still flowing out of it.
It was some time before we could get all the details.
“But I don’t know how this Bree—is she a cheese?—has got my phone number,” repeated Eva irritably. “I only know I’m in a taxi after my meeting and the phone rings. It’s a girl asking for Cassandra. She says she’s calling from a place in Romania and something bad has happened to her grandmother. A murder.”
“But you’re sure she didn’t say that Gladys had been killed?”
“No, I told you! She said that her grandmother has done the murder. No, I mean, the police think she has done the murder, but of course she hasn’t.”
“Of course not,” I said warmly. It was completely impossible to imagine Gladys Bentwhistle with her raspberry dice bolo tie killing anyone, especially in Romania. “And where was she calling from, did you say?”
“The Arcata Spa Hotel, in the village of Arcata. It’s in Transylvania, in the Carpathian Mountains.”
“But how did she know how to reach me in Budapest?” I asked again.
“For the hundredth time, Cassandra, I don’t know! But I do know she wants you to go there because you speak Romanian. She was very upset.”
Jack had been eating our second strudels through most of this. Now she said calmly, “Well, of course you have to go, Cassandra. It’s your duty to help them. And I’ll have to go with you to make sure nothing happens to you, in case it’s a dangerous situation. And Eva will have to drive us there because she knows where the hell the Carpathians are and because she speaks Hungarian.”
Jack looked more lively than she had since I’d arrived.
“I’ve never been to Romania. I suppose we’ll have to take lots of supplies.”
Eva was staring at her. “But we can’t just drop the business, Jack. It’s not … professional.”
Jack glanced at her watch. “It’s only five o’clock. How long would it take to drive there?”
Eva shook her head. “I don’t know. Four or five hours to the border at Oradea and then perhaps another six, depending on the roads, to Arcata.”
“There you have it. It’s Friday night. Ten hours and we’re at the scene of the crime. You and Cassandra help sort this thing out and we’re in the car and headed back to Budapest. Maybe we’ll even have time for some sightseeing in Transylvania.”
I had been about to protest that I was on my way to China and didn’t need a side trip to Romania, whatever the reason, but Jack caught me up in her desire to be away and quickly. Eva had not seen this side of her partner yet, but I certainly had. Any sort of jaunt always brightened Jack’s face; she was pining away for a change of scene after two months in Budapest.
I had to admit too, I was curious—and worried—about Gladys. Romania wasn’t technically a police state anymore, but I wasn’t completely confident in their legal system. If Gladys was in any kind of trouble, she would definitely need help.
“But we have dinner arranged with Señor Martínez tonight!” said Eva.
That settled it.
Jack and I stood up at the
Late one afternoon, as we were on our second strudel at the espresso bar, the door opened and in came Eva, clutching her cellular phone in some agitation. Jack and I both started guiltily—such was the effect this hard-working Hungarian entrepreneur had on us. My first thought was that Señor Martínez had come to grief somewhere in Szeged, where he’d gone to introduce his fixtures and where I’d refused to accompany him. But that was incorrect.
“It’s a murder,” Eva said, pointing at the phone as if the terrible news were still flowing out of it.
It was some time before we could get all the details.
“But I don’t know how this Bree—is she a cheese?—has got my phone number,” repeated Eva irritably. “I only know I’m in a taxi after my meeting and the phone rings. It’s a girl asking for Cassandra. She says she’s calling from a place in Romania and something bad has happened to her grandmother. A murder.”
“But you’re sure she didn’t say that Gladys had been killed?”
“No, I told you! She said that her grandmother has done the murder. No, I mean, the police think she has done the murder, but of course she hasn’t.”
“Of course not,” I said warmly. It was completely impossible to imagine Gladys Bentwhistle with her raspberry dice bolo tie killing anyone, especially in Romania. “And where was she calling from, did you say?”
“The Arcata Spa Hotel, in the village of Arcata. It’s in Transylvania, in the Carpathian Mountains.”
“But how did she know how to reach me in Budapest?” I asked again.
“For the hundredth time, Cassandra, I don’t know! But I do know she wants you to go there because you speak Romanian. She was very upset.”
Jack had been eating our second strudels through most of this. Now she said calmly, “Well, of course you have to go, Cassandra. It’s your duty to help them. And I’ll have to go with you to make sure nothing happens to you, in case it’s a dangerous situation. And Eva will have to drive us there because she knows where the hell the Carpathians are and because she speaks Hungarian.”
Jack looked more lively than she had since I’d arrived.
“I’ve never been to Romania. I suppose we’ll have to take lots of supplies.”
Eva was staring at her. “But we can’t just drop the business, Jack. It’s not … professional.”
Jack glanced at her watch. “It’s only five o’clock. How long would it take to drive there?”
Eva shook her head. “I don’t know. Four or five hours to the border at Oradea and then perhaps another six, depending on the roads, to Arcata.”
“There you have it. It’s Friday night. Ten hours and we’re at the scene of the crime. You and Cassandra help sort this thing out and we’re in the car and headed back to Budapest. Maybe we’ll even have time for some sightseeing in Transylvania.”
I had been about to protest that I was on my way to China and didn’t need a side trip to Romania, whatever the reason, but Jack caught me up in her desire to be away and quickly. Eva had not seen this side of her partner yet, but I certainly had. Any sort of jaunt always brightened Jack’s face; she was pining away for a change of scene after two months in Budapest.
I had to admit too, I was curious—and worried—about Gladys. Romania wasn’t technically a police state anymore, but I wasn’t completely confident in their legal system. If Gladys was in any kind of trouble, she would definitely need help.
“But we have dinner arranged with Señor Martínez tonight!” said Eva.
That settled it.
Jack and I stood up at the
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