The Lost Spy (Slim Moran Mysteries)

by Kate Moira Ryan

  “There’s nothing to spill. I’m tired. I want to cut the cake and then lie down for a nap.”

  “That was a beautiful ceremony.”

  “I didn’t want anything religious.”

  “Shotgun wedding with a pregnant bride. I didn’t think any priest would marry you,” Margaret said with a glint in her eye.

  “Everyone at Trinity would be scandalized. How is Gudrun coming along with Latin?”

  “Latin is excellent. Math is quite another thing, but she’s giving it her all.”

  “Do you think you’ll get her up to snuff?” Slim asked, hopeful.

  “Yes, actually, I do. She’s been accepted for September. I haven’t told her yet; I just got the letter yesterday. I’m going to miss her.”

  “That’s fantastic news. Look, would you do me a favor and go and see where the cake is? Daniel was supposedly bringing it back from the bakery a couple of blocks away. Apparently, their delivery boy called in sick. I’ve sent Remy and Françoise, but they haven’t come back yet.”

  “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

  Lady Johnson was the next one to come over. “How’s my granddaughter?”

  “Tired. I’m happy you came, Gran. I thought maybe . . .”

  “That I wouldn’t? When I said I wanted you to be happy, I meant it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I lost your mother. I didn’t want to lose you.” She squeezed Slim’s hand.

  Margaret came in first followed by Remy and Françoise. Margaret’s face looked panicked.

  “What is it, Margaret?” Slim asked.

  “Slim, you better come and see.” Everyone froze at the tone of Margaret’s voice.

  Lady Johnson helped her granddaughter to her swollen feet. The edema in Slim’s ankles pushed against the leather straps, cutting into her skin. How she wanted to take these shoes off and lie down. Margaret took Slim’s other arm and led her through the bar’s doors while Gudrun and Marlene followed behind.

  The first thing Slim saw was Françoise’s face staring at her in horror, and then she looked down into the street. The cake box was on the ground with its smashed contents spilling out.

  “Where is Daniel?” Slim asked.

  “I saw these men take him and throw him into a van,” Remy said.

  “One of them was German, Slim,” Françoise said.

  A sickening feeling overcame Slim as she remembered Daniel’s words to her: “Klaus Barbie is not going to rest until he gets me.”

  “What is it, Slim?” Lady Johnson asked.

  “Barbie’s got him,” Slim said, looking at her wedding cake from Finkelstein’s. “I’ve got to figure out how to get him back, and the only one who can help me is Simon Wiesenthal.”

  She walked back into the bar. She needed to get back to work.