It didn’t take the girl long to guess. ‘Brian.’
Darya swallowed. ‘Did he come here again after that?’ she asked.
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Why you want to know?’
Darya told her a lie smoothly. ‘I have an expensive camera that belonged to him. And now I can’t find him to return it. I know he came here often. I thought you might know something.’
Either the girl believed her or did not fully understand what she’d said. In any case, to Darya’s relief, she answered, ‘I saw him many times here. With other people too.’
‘You sure?’
She nodded. ‘Can’t forget. Big tipper. We liked him. He talked to me and Marie.’ She tipped her head towards her colleague. ‘He hasn’t come this week. Maybe he has gone back to Canada?’
‘How do you know where he is from?’
With a flick of her hand, the girl replied. ‘I asked.’
Darya noticed the manager was looking at them and she pretended to study the menu. ‘Do you remember who he was with?’ she asked, head down.
‘Yes. Many people.’
‘But mostly who?’
‘Yes.’
Darya looked up. ‘Who was he here most of the times with?’ she asked, her words slow and deliberate.
The girl stared at Darya. Her face settled into a smirk.
Damn, Darya muttered under her breath. The girl had realised there was more than a camera at stake here. Digging into her purse Darya took out a 200 leu note. ‘Tell me,’ she demanded and placed the note on the table.
‘That horrible sexy man,’ the girl answered promptly. A small giggle escaped her as she leaned forward to pick up the money.
Did she mean horribly sexy or horrible and sexy?
‘Name?’
‘Oleg.’
Darya’s breath quickened.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘Was there no one else?’
‘I saw Alina with them once. From Handsome Monk.’ She scrunched up her nose. ‘Hey, don’t you work there too?’
‘I do.’
‘I wish I could work there but am stuck here.’
She looked down at her notepad, as if it had bitten her hand. Waving it in front of Darya, ‘Will you order?’ she demanded.
‘I’ll have the mămăligă,’ Darya said. Then acknowledging her griping stomach, ‘with chicken,’ she added.
‘Paprika Roast Chicken?’ the girl suggested brightly.
‘Yeah, sure, that,’ Darya said. ‘Listen. I need to ask you something more.’
The girl, who’d started to walk away, turned to Darya, looking intrigued.
‘Why does the Harlequin have such large eyes?’ Darya asked. ‘Do they mean something in your culture?’
‘What?’ the girl asked, sounding confused.
Darya glanced up and flashed the girl her warmest smile. She pointed to the photo of the harlequin on the menu card. ‘What’s with their large, sleepy eyes?’ she repeated. She knew her question sounded ludicrous on the face of it. She was hoping the girl would consider it a tourist’s curiosity and nothing more. How could Darya have explained it anyway? That a tattoo on the belly of a naked man had reminded her of something she’d seen before? At this very restaurant?
‘These eyes are everywhere. On rooftops as vents. On this clown. I’ve seen tattoos too. Is there a significance? Is it like a good luck charm or something?’
Darya was certain the girl thought she was a loon, because her eyebrows rose high on her forehead and she stated emphatically, ‘Nu înțeleg.’ I do not understand.
Their eyes met. A few seconds passed.
Something clicked in the girl’s brain.
‘Read about Draco,’ she said. ‘Ask the nuns in Biertan.’
Now it was Darya’s turn to say, ‘What?’
‘NIKKI.’
‘Pula.’ Nikki glanced back and gestured with a hand she was going to be there soon. ‘I need to go,’ she told Darya.
‘Wait. Nikki …’ Darya said desperately.
‘Paprika Chicken takes time,’ Nikki murmured. ‘I will be back in fifteen minutes with your food.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper and tapped her fingernails on the table. ‘More information, 200 leu more.’ Then skittered away, her sensible ballet shoes clapping on the cobbled floor.
It took her thirty minutes to return with the food.
And she had remembered something else.
Week 9: Brian is found
Darya follows a hunch and discovers were Brian is.
That Friday began and ended eventfully.
In the morning, Darya treated herself to a gelato for breakfast—two scoops on a cone— bubblegum and cheesecake—little aware her initial euphoria would turn to something nasty by the end of the day. Later at the café, a rotund, ruddy-cheeked woman complimented her on her skin tone. ‘I have a son …’ she began, and Darya stiffened, fearing she was going to be match-made, ‘… who has the same skin colour …’ Darya gave her a warm smile in response. After she left, Darya asked Alina how come she’d named the café ‘Handsome Monk’.
‘It’s a secret desire of mine,’ Alina replied.
‘You’re joking!’
‘Why? He’s handsome and loving him is forbidden. That’s an exciting combination.’
Feeling emboldened and sensing Alina’s good mood, ‘Well, do you know a handsome monk?’ asked Darya.
Alina smiled. ‘Several.’
‘What about clowns?’ Darya asked, keeping her voice light.
Alina stopped what she was doing, and flashed Darya a wary look.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you know about the harlequin?’ asked Darya.
‘Yeah.’
‘I don’t mean the restaurant by the same name,’ Darya explained. ‘Just in general. Is there a significance of it in your culture?’
‘Not really.’
‘The restaurant’s menu claims there’s a picture of a harlequin in one of the churches in Biertan. There’s a curious story about it.’
Alina relaxed. ‘It’s true. I saw it once a few years ago, on a family trip. Mihai pulled a few strings to get us access. That church is closed now,’ she murmured and took the next minute to align the cleaned cups on the countertop in a single file. She performed the task several times a day, no matter who collected and washed the coffee cups. Something about the routine and symmetry calmed her, she said.
Darya waited, and then, ‘Is that the one Irina was associated with, too?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ she answered slowly. ‘That’s the one.’
Darya next asked the question she’d been meaning to. ‘Did you know Oleg has a tattoo of an eye around his belly button? It very much looked to me like the eye of the harlequin. Although … am not a hundred per cent sure.’
Alina looked up, startled. ‘How do you know this?’
Darya kept her gaze steady. ‘So, you know about the tattoo?’
‘They fought over it,’ she murmured. ‘But I didn’t know what the tattoo was.’ She fell silent.
‘What is it?’ Darya asked.
Alina shrugged.
Darya moved closer.
‘What is it, Alina?’
Alina shook her head again and murmured something to herself. Darya wondered if she’d heard it right.
Can’t be. Too long ago.
‘Alina?’ she asked.
But Alina had moved to the wall and was fiddling with the canisters on the shelf.
‘What is it?’ Darya persisted.
Alina answered tersely. ‘What is what?’ Her eyes narrowed, and she asked a question of her own. ‘Have you heard from Brian yet?’
A sigh escaped Darya. ‘Not yet.’
‘Isn’t that more important right now?’
‘It is.’
‘Did you try calling everyone he knew? Or looked on the internet?’
Darya nodded. ‘He doesn’t have social profiles, so not much there. I found one phone number among his things, the same he had
given to Vera as his emergency contact, but no one’s picking up.’
‘Did you try Oleg?’
‘Oleg?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Alina said. ‘They met a couple of times. He may know something.’
For a second, her heart filled with hope. ‘Do you think he’ll help?’
‘Why not?’
Darya had no answer to that. Every now and then, she was guilty of overlooking the obvious and making extreme assumptions. ‘Will you help? I mean, can you call him and ask?’ Darya hadn’t seen Oleg around recently and he no longer came to the café. She had no idea how to reach him and even if Alina gave her his number, Darya wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him.
Alina seemed to think the same. She rolled her eyes. ‘Oleg and I are not what you call “close”.’ She made air quotes. ‘But I’ll tell him to come here so you can talk to him.’
‘When?’ Darya asked.
Alina looked away, her eyes on the front door. ‘Soon.’ She pursed her lips and let out a grunt, ‘Back to work, chica. Can’t you see we have guests?’
It got busier during the day and Darya forgot all about everything when her phone pinged with an unexpected email.
Darya
Two months are gone already. You did not reply to my email last time. How are you? When are you coming home?
Your father is now all the time in the house. He has become sad and doesn’t speak much to me. It feels to me like he is waiting for something. We only see each other during dinner. I asked him if he was sick, but he said he was fine. He does not ask about you, but I know he wants to.
I told him I’m writing to you, but you are not writing back. He looked very sad after I said that but did not ask any more questions. He said to wait.
Veda has come to live with Namita. They are planning to leave Nagpur. On the phone Namita said Veda didn’t want to come meet us. I asked her why. Namita did not say. She only told that Veda asked if uncle … your father was home. Then nothing else.
Everyone is acting strangely these days. You most of all. I am not able to make head or tail of it.
Please call. I miss hearing your voice. Be safe.
Love, Ma
After she finished reading, Darya felt cowardly, wretched, suffocated under the weight of indecision. She had to protect her mother; when she’d finally know what had happened, Darya had to be with her.
But not yet.
Before that, she had to find Brian.
After Alina snapped at Darya for pestering her too much to call Oleg, Darya decided to give herself an early lunch break. She had hoped Mihai would show up with Irina and she could ask them, but they hadn’t come to the café either. So now she was at a loss as to how to get in touch with Oleg. She no longer wanted to wait for Alina to be in the mood to make the call.
Irina restocked Mihai’s medicines at Rosetti Medicale every Friday. Even if they had not shown up at the café today, perhaps she’d go there anyway? Darya glanced at the time on her phone. Yes, about now. What was the harm in trying her luck?
Rosetti Medicale was two blocks away. Darya reached there in five minutes.
The doors were wide open, and the exteriors were made of glass; so, Darya got a clear view of the insides. There were no customers at that hour. Three women in sparkling lab coats were clustered behind the counter, talking. They gazed up questioningly when Darya entered.
‘I’m looking for Irina,’ Darya said confidently.
One of them walked to her with a half-smile on her face. ‘Da?’
‘Is she going to come in or has she already been here?’
‘Why you want Irina?’
Darya waved an empty manila envelope in front of her. ‘I need to give her this.’
Another attendant who’d been fiddling with the computer gave Darya a warmer smile and said, ‘You’re from the Rosetti café, no?’
Darya nodded.
‘Irina phoned. She’ll be here in twenty minutes.’
Darya almost whooped in relief. Exhaling softly, ‘I shall wait outside,’ she said and walked out.
She purchased a plateful of gogoși from her favourite hole-in-the-wall eatery next door. The sweet Romanian doughnuts—deep fried, stuffed with chocolate, jam, or cream, and dusted with icing sugar—were her sinful indulgences, and she only felt a tad guilty as she devoured them. Eat healthy, Darya, she heard her mother’s voice echo in her head, lunch cannot be made of sweets.
Darya was halfway through her fourth doughnut when she saw Irina walking towards the medical store, a large plastic shopping bag in her hand. Where was the car? Darya thought, as she threw the rest of the doughnuts into a nearby trash can and wiped her hands. She sprinted to talk to Irina before she went into the store.
‘Hey,’ Darya wheezed. ‘Irina.’
She halted abruptly, a look of surprise on her face. Up close, Darya got a closer look at the array of wiry hair on her chin, bleached blonde.
‘Mihai …’ Darya began.
‘Is not well,’ Irina finished.
‘What happened to him?’
Darya had learnt from Alina that Mihai lived in a farmhouse-style modern villa just outside Sibiu. The house had twelve rooms, wrap-around balconies, gilded furniture, carpeted walls titivated with holy icons and frescoes, while the grounds around had flower-laden canopies, a greenhouse, a private lake, even a small chapel. An army of workers arrived every morning to take care of the place and left by noon. None ever saw Mihai. The property, refurbished after Ana-Maria returned, was called Rosetti Palace. Alina herself had visited it only twice.
‘What about Oleg?’ Darya persisted. ‘Do you know where he is?’
‘Ce?’ Something dark and slippery passed through her face. Darya had to play it carefully.
‘Do you know where he is?’ Darya asked. ‘Can I have his number?’
‘Why you want?’ Irina asked. She glanced at the door of the pharmacy as if hoping someone would come to her rescue.
Meanwhile, Darya was panicking.
‘I want to talk to him,’ she said, her words coming out in a rush.
‘Not know where he is,’ Irina said and pursed her lips. ‘I am in hurry.’
Calm down. You’re in charge here. She’s hiding something.
‘I want his number.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to talk to him.’
She pursed her lips and replied, ‘Don’t have.’
Darya exhaled slowly.
So, Irina wasn’t going to give it to her. Then perhaps she could help clear something else that had been bothering Darya.
Striving for a casual tone, ‘Why did you go to Brian’s hostel?’ asked Darya.
Irina recoiled as if she’d been slapped. ‘Ce?’ she asked. ‘What you mean?’
‘I went to Sibiana myself,’ Darya explained, softening her demeanour to avoid appearing hostile. ‘I heard you went there to look for Brian.’
She flashed a watery smile. ‘I went there. Not to look for Brian. Sibiana is Mihai’s hostel. I go there now and again. I asked Vera about him.’
‘Why?’
‘He hasn’t come back, nu?’
‘Did Ana-Maria or Mihai ask you to look through his things?’ Darya asked. ‘Because you asked Vera for the keys to his locker.’
Recovered now, her smile grew firm. She looked at Darya as if she were crazy to be asking such questions. ‘No one asked nothing. I took card but didn’t see. Lots of boys and girls in the room.’ She paused. ‘Did you see?’
‘Nothing interesting,’ Darya replied. ‘His backpack’s not there. Nor are his wallet or his phone. So, he may have taken off for a short trip somewhere. Don’t know.’ She hesitated. ‘But you knew Brian. You’ve met him.’
‘I met him with Mihai,’ she said.
‘You met him otherwise, too.’
‘Nu înţeleg.’ She clutched her handbag tight. ‘Sorry. Have to get medicines.’ And with that, she spun around and disappeared into the store.
Darya was never
going to see her again after that day.
And then came evening.
Hearing that Mihai was sick, Alina said she was going to go see him and that she’d call Oleg on the way. After she left, Darya kept replaying her conversation with Irina in her head and wondered why she’d been so evasive when asked about Brian. Something was definitely off there.
After her shift ended, Darya walked to Cibin Market intending to buy her weekly stash of breads, meat, and berries. She hadn’t wanted to—her mood was downcast and dark thoughts weighed on her heart—but the fridge was empty. And, well, confused as she was with what was going on, she did need to eat.
And there was Oleg.
At first, Darya was thrilled. She’d been looking for him, begging for Alina to call him, and lo presto, there he was, being presented to her, but … all was not right.
She surveyed him closely. Something in his body language made her uneasy. He was nervous, jumpy.
He was standing a few feet away, his back to her, talking on the phone, an empty bag wrapped about his hand. The market was crowded today; Darya knew it was open for extended hours owing to a planned shutdown for fumigation over the weekend. The canopied stalls were thus overflowing with fresh produce, cheese, and meat. Over the din of haggling, rustling bags, and plaintive shouts, Darya was not able to hear Oleg at all.
Only one time his voice rose in protest and she heard him.
Scuze. Scuze. Scuze.
He ended the call and whipped to his left, perhaps to check if anyone had been listening. Darya was hidden amidst people to his right, so he didn’t see her. Then, he put his head down and stared at the ground, as if thinking.
Was that Alina who’d called him? But what had she said that had made Oleg so agitated?
Darya had hidden herself behind a stall and while her fingers caressed a pile of cabbage, her eyes were fixed on him.
His face was pale, and his hands clasped each other tightly in front of him. He didn’t move for several minutes.
And when he did, a jolt of electricity passed through Darya.
Something was wrong.
The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 61
