“I’m sure money was promised. Her parents would want to secure their future and marrying Irena to a rich guy did that. I’d bet anything in this world Fred’s on the hook for payment in some way or another.” Dario grimaced, rubbing the stubble on his chin. His theory developed in front of him. Her parents had gone to great extent to keep them apart, despite their daughter’s reluctance to marry the guy they had chosen for her. “I don’t know the whole story yet, but pieces are falling into place. I’m speculating they outlived someone’s patience. Her mother’s accident was supposed to make the problem go away if you know what I mean. Instead, Mrs. Novak now has bigger medical expenses and it’s more of a drain on Fred’s pocket. He waited this long to get rid of the driver so it wouldn’t come too soon, too suspicious.”
Ante’s thick eyebrows drew closer, resembling a caterpillar. “Are you batshit crazy? How long have you been thinking about this?” He waved his hand and opened the car door. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dario eased out of the car. He skirted the hood, meeting Ante on the sidewalk. Old, familiar buildings had barely seen a fresh coat of paint. A couple of new stores and a café opened since he last ventured up this road. “The army barracks are now turned into the city’s library.”
“It’s nice to see the trimmed bushes replaced the ungodly iron fence and armed guards.” Ante’s lips thinned into a white line.
“We were still kids when army occupied these buildings.” Dario’s footsteps halted as he neared the weather-beaten doors of the building where he’d spent many nights kissing Irena. Often well after her curfew, thankful that her parents valued their sleep more than enforcing their rules. The memory of their parting for good squeezed his throat. If he never boarded that tanker, today his life wouldn’t change much. At least the ship captain had recognized his cooking skills and recommended him for culinary college. It had taken twice as long to obtain his degree due to the ports his vessel docked in, but he persisted and in the following years rose to the position of Chief Steward.
No matter how busy his life had kept him, he’d missed Irena so much he wanted to pick her from his dreams and hug her, instead of his pillow. And he should be running to her, not going to face her mother, but an unexplainable urge moved him forward.
He swallowed hard and tilted his head toward the second story balcony. Empty planters piled up in the corner against the rusting railing.
Inside the foyer, the walls had seen a fresh coat of paint, but the staircase was the same, cold, hard cement, thin iron spikes held the black top of the railing. The soles of his sneakers squeaked on the wet steps.
His feet carried him to the second floor to the green apartment door. Mr. L. Novak was displayed on the small, gray plaque. He pressed the button, holding it down. The shrill chime filled the long hallway.
He waited. No answer.
“Oh, well,” Ante breathed, turning for the stairs. “Looks like no one’s home. At least you tried.”
“She’s in there. She may not be fast on her feet anymore.” He rang the bell again. Two short rings this time.
“Who is it?” A weak woman’s voice came muffled from the other side of the door.
“Mrs. Novak, it’s Dario. Can we please talk, but I don’t want to talk through the wood.”
“What are you doing here?” Her voice took on a sudden deep tone as if she tapped into the fountain of strength. “If you’re looking for Irena, she’s not here. Unless you know where she is, be gone, you vermin. You caused enough trouble.”
It had been so long since he heard those words spoken in the harsh tone. Years ago she would send him scrambling, but not anymore. Like a sword, he too had been forged in life battles and Mrs. Novak no longer epitomized someone to fear. So, Irena had not visited her mother. How did the woman know her daughter was missing? “I’m not here for Irena. Please, just open the door.”
“Go away and don’t come back here.” Silence followed only broken by the slow shuffling of her feet.
“I told you there was no point in coming here.” Ante tapped him on his shoulder and hurried down the stairs to the first landing.
Dario’s chest tightened as he turned to follow his brother. Before he reached him, the rattling of chains and clicking of locks filled the hallway. He paused and waited. The door to Novak apartment opened and Irena’s mother shuffled out, leaning heavily on her walker. Liver spots covered her hands and face, deep wrinkles sagged her skin. Her faded yellow flannel gown floated around her thin frame as if it hung on the hanger.
“If you find her,” Mrs. Novak said, a pleading in her voice. “Tell her she must return to her husband. What kind of woman leaves her man? Her head is filled up with nonsense. Every wife has to endure her husband’s wrath.” She lowered her gaze at her feet in worn out slippers, their color was not distinguishable. “Tell her, her father had to go to a home.” Her voice trembled as she began to weep. Moments later, her frail body shook with her sobs. Strange, Irena had said her mother had not shed a tear over her leaving home, yet here she bawled for sending her abusive husband to a nursing home.
Horseshit. Dario clamped down his lips and cast her a tight smile. Had Mrs. Novak truly loved her husband to the point of blind devotion? Or was her speech just to put up appearances? He’d bet all his money on the latter. “If I find Irena, I’ll pass on the message.”
“If she doesn’t go back, her poor father will not receive the care he needs. We can’t pay for the home and my medical expenses.” She turned toward the open
door. “Such an ungrateful daughter, God cursed me with, after we gave her everything.”
Dario fisted his hands, but couldn’t restrain his tongue, not when Mrs. Novak’s words reopened the barely healed wound. “Everything, Mrs. Novak? It’s obvious you want to find her for your own gain.”
She halted and pivoted on her good leg. “Her husband is worried about her. She’s sick and needs medication. He came here, believing she’d returned home to aid me. When he saw the misery I live in, he graciously offered to pay for my knee replacement surgery if I find her.”
A surge of anger flooded over Dario. Irena’s husband had come here, looking for her. He didn’t love her, so why follow her across the world? When Mrs. Novak was about to disappear inside her apartment, Dario shouted before she shut the door. “The woman who hit you committed suicide today.”
Mrs. Novak threw her head back and huffed. “As she should,” she said, her voice peeved and shrill with irritation. “I wouldn’t be in this predicament if she didn’t wave for me to cross the street at a pedestrian crossover. Once I put my foot on the pavement, she hit me. Later the stupid woman changed her story. She lied and said I jumped in front of her car.”
The door closed, cutting off the stench of urine and decay wafting from Mrs. Novak’s apartment. He faced his brother’s wide eyes and half-frown. “Well then, who’s batshit crazy now?”
“Your theory could be right.” Ante shuddered. “I can’t shake the feeling we’re in over our heads. What are we to do now?”
“Get the rest of the story from Irena. What else
does her husband pay to her parents? I have a hunch there’s a life insurance policy on them with a big payout in his favor. He wants them dead and lacing doctor’s pockets would be a piece of cake. How difficult would it be for a doctor to claim the old woman’s heart stopped while under general sedation? It happens all the time. No one would even suspect a foul play.” Dario ran down the stairs and stepped into a puddle in front of the door. His cloth sneakers soaked. Rain pelted him, and he pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. It must’ve rained for a while. It was hard to ignore the squishing sounds his shoes made and the drenched socks sticking to his freezing toes.
Ante pulled his coat over his head and fell into step with him. “Everyone’s bribable today. Heck, when our mom was dying in the hospital the nurses and doctors couldn’t be less pleasant if they tried, but they quickly changed their tune when we slipped them a few bills.”
“Don’t remind me.” Dario fished out the keys from his jeans pocket. The last thing he needed was to think of their mother’s death and pompous hospital staff who couldn’t bother to change the patient’s bed sheets until he laced their pockets. Everyone expected to get his or her hands greased these days. Small wonders, many workers had not seen paychecks in months and when they did, extra for overtime they put in working on weekends or evenings often got omitted from the pay.
Ante shivered in the passenger’s seat. “Turn on the heat, I’m soaked.”
Dario pulled out of the parking spot in a hurry, good thing the delivery truck left open space in front of his car or he’d cause some damage to bumpers of both vehicles. “Irena must’ve found our restaurant’s web
page with links to the attractions in the vicinity. The Bastion hotel was only open in the last few years.”
“Why didn’t she contact us? We would have been glad to help her.” Ante sounded hurt.
“I’m sure if she could, she would’ve. There’s more to this than what we know.” Dario ignored the pang in his gut. Ante was right, damn it. Why hadn’t Irena chosen to ask for help from him? Maybe she didn’t want to burden him with her problems. Then, she wouldn’t know he was no longer that poor teenager who couldn’t buy her a drink. Or perhaps she didn’t want him involved. Her constant glancing over her shoulder and edginess meant the things could get dangerous.
“The cab driver saw her going in, for all we know she might’ve eluded him to think that’s where she was staying.” Ante placed his finger on the radio button.
Dario shoved Ante’s hand away from the dashboard. “How can you think of the music right now?” Listening to the drone of his engine and rain pelting against the car suited his racing mind.
The rest of the drive around the harbor to the Old Town was spent in silence, except for the white noise of the car and swish-swash of the wipers on the windshield.
He parked at the back of their restaurant and eased from behind the steering wheel. If only this rain would light up, he could search for Irena faster and easier.
He approached the red-brown building built on the remains of the medieval fortress from the thirteenth century converted into a hotel. Thick white trims framed the four floors of windows. Though the main entrance was narrow, it led into a spacious foyer. White
curving marble stairs with black cast iron balustrade stood to the right from the reception desk.
A tall, thin man in dark brown suit leaned over the mahogany desk. Two burly guys in black suits a few steps behind the man, facing the entrance of the hotel. Dario paid them no heed on his way to the reception. However, the tall man seemed familiar. Older, receding hairline revealed pink scalp under the fake sun- bleached blond hair with graying roots, but that face still belonged to Fred. Dario’s initial instinct was to punch the man’s teeth, but his bodyguards would be on him faster than he could swing his arm. Yep, he’d be the one spilling bile on the parking lot if he approached the scum. Better to play cool and see what the man was up to.
Fred tapped his manicured fingernails on the wood while the receptionist finished his phone call.
The young man in navy blue vest bearing the hotel’s logo returned the receiver to the cradle and faced Fred. “I’m sorry sir, but as I said, we don’t have a guest with that name. Are you positive the lady was staying at this hotel?”
Fred reached into his suit inner pocket and produced the leather wallet, pulled out two hundred dollar bills and flashed it in front of the man’s face. “Check your computer again.”
The receptionist stared at the crisp bills clasped between two bony fingers. At the currency exchange rate, two hundred dollars could be more than this man earned in a month. Dario prayed the youngster wouldn’t risk his job by taking cash and giving out confidential information, and that his salary exceeded the offered bribe, and that he received the paycheck regularly.
The receptionist gulped, drew in a long breath and turned to the monitor. “Can you spell the name of the guest?”