Death of a Wandering Wolf

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Death of a Wandering Wolf Page 7

by Julia Buckley


  “Ah,” said Runa with a wise expression. “Well, you’ve put him on precarious footing.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I just—this is very confusing. It’s like a curse. I wish I didn’t have this new complication in my life.”

  Thyra covered my hand with hers. “Are you kidding? It’s amazing! Rue and I love psychics. We watch all those fake ones on cable. Even though we know they’re liars, we still love the idea of second sight.” She leaned in. “But your grandma really has it, right?”

  I sighed a jagged sigh. “I think so, yes.”

  “We have to meet her, Hana.”

  “If your brother breaks up with me, there probably won’t be much opportunity.”

  Runa pursed her lips. “He’s not going to break up with you. Do you know what he told us, when he said he was dating you? He said that we should butt out, because he didn’t want to jinx this. You see? He valued your relationship so much he didn’t even want to talk about it. Probably for fear we would meet you and be bossy, which is what just happened, right?” Her smile was almost friendly.

  “I’m used to bossy people,” I said.

  “Good. Then you’ll be a good girl and pose for our catalog,” Thyra said. “We want to make some flyers for our winter line; we can debut you that way. I know just how I want him to light you.”

  “Him?”

  “The photographer we work with. He’ll love you,” Runa said. They both observed me with a certain smugness. Then Runa pointed at the Pálinka. “What’s that? Some kind of booze?”

  “It’s Hungarian fruit brandy. I brought it as a peace offering.”

  “Huh. That’s cute.”

  “I’m sorry I cried on both of you,” I said.

  Thyra stood up. “The water’s boiling. You can tell us all about tea, and how your grandma reads the leaves.” She prepared some tea in mugs that she took from Erik’s cupboard and brought them to the table. “I’ll bet it’s fascinating, watching her work.”

  I nodded. “She hasn’t actually done it since last month. You might have read that there was a murder at our tea house. That’s how I met Erik, actually.”

  Runa clapped again. “You met him while he was on a case? Oh, that is perfect. Of course he didn’t meet you in a bar or somewhere. He doesn’t do that scene. So he came to solve your crime, and you fell in love with him?”

  “Pretty much.”

  They looked at each other with some secret expression, then looked back at me with wry smiles. “We like you, Hana.”

  I managed a smile. Then a thought occurred to me. “Hey—what’s Ulveflokk? Does that mean something?”

  “Of course,” Thyra said. “We are the Wolf family, right? Rue and I wanted to name our business after our family, so we called it Ulveflokk. That means ‘wolf pack.’ That’s us.”

  “Wolf pack,” I said. “I like that. I have to tell Katie. She won’t believe this. She loves your clothes.”

  “We’ll give you some things for her,” Runa said airily. “Okay, we taught you something Norwegian. Now you teach us something Hungarian.”

  “Um. I don’t know. The brandy over there is called Pálinka.”

  “Something better,” Thyra said. “Tell us something your grandma says.”

  I sipped my tea, then set it down. “I was upset today. I felt like I ruined things. When I left work, my grandma said, ‘Lónak négy a lába, mégis megbotlik.’”

  “Wow. Hungarian sounds cool. What does that mean?” Runa said.

  “‘The horse has four legs and still stumbles.’ Meaning, we all make mistakes.”

  “That’s great!” Runa said. “I’m going to take Hungarian lessons.”

  Thyra smirked and ticked things off on her fingers. “You said that about Spanish, Italian, and Mandarin.”

  “And I might still learn those,” Runa said lightly.

  I took one last sip of my tea. “I should go. I’ll wash this out.”

  Thyra stood up. “I’ll do it. Give me yours, Runa. Do you feel better, Hana?”

  “I think so. Thanks. It was nice to meet both of you.”

  Runa held out her hand. “Do you have a phone? We’ll put our info in there.”

  “Uh—okay.” I handed her my phone and she typed with expert fingers. “Okay, now you have Thyra’s number and mine. And I have your number, as well. We’ll contact you about the photo shoot.”

  “Uh—”

  They swept around the room, putting away dishes, then left briefly and returned wearing stylish coats. Thyra said, “Don’t worry. Erik doesn’t hold grudges. He has a soft heart.”

  Runa nodded and said, “And remember, Hana: I want to meet your grandmother. And I’ll find some treats for your friend Katie. Oh, and you should come to my apartment sometime to see my Kodaly. I won’t look at it the same, now that I know he—well, anyway.”

  “Okay, we have to run,” Thyra said, looking at her watch. “Lock the door when you leave, Hana.”

  They waved and swept out of Erik’s apartment; the room felt eerily quiet.

  I stood and gathered my things. I found a pad in Erik’s kitchen drawer, along with a pen. I wrote another note. This one just said, “Good night,” and I signed my name. I went down the hall to Erik’s bedroom. I hadn’t spent any time in this room; we had stayed in his living room the few times I’d come over, and then left to go to dinner or a movie.

  His room was large; his bed sat in the center, covered in a gray and red quilt. His headboard held a few necessities: earphones, a stack of books, some framed photos. I crept closer and set my note on his pillow. My eyes lifted to the headboard and a picture of Wolf’s whole family: his parents, his brother, his sisters, and him, taken perhaps ten years earlier. They all looked young and handsome. In the other frame was a picture of me that I had never seen. I remembered when he took it outside the tea house. I was wearing my uniform with the Hungarian apron over a white blouse and black skirt. I looked like a tour guide at some European museum. It was a nice picture, though. I was smiling at Erik Wolf; it was clear, even in the photo, how I felt about him. And he looked at it every day.

  This final thought buoyed my spirits. I left the room, went down the hall, and claimed my purse. My gifts remained on the counter; I hoped that they would have the desired effect.

  Chapter 5

  The Hunger

  When I got home I decided to busy myself in my kitchen. The cats jumped on dining room chairs so that they could watch me work. The sun had disappeared again, and the room was gray with twilight. I lit some candles to brighten my mood, put on a Spotify playlist that I had titled “Variety,” and listened to songs that spanned fifty years. Meanwhile, I started chopping an onion and preparing a beef mixture for töltött káposzta. I put a head of cabbage in boiling water and went into my living room to flip on some lights. The Kodaly hung on the wall, warming my room with its beauty. I was glad I had purchased it, for many reasons.

  I went back to the kitchen and poured some food for the cats. When my cabbage was soft, I removed it from the water and let it cool on a paper towel. Slowly, carefully I pulled off leaves and began wrapping them around spoonsful of my meat mixture, tucking each cabbage leaf carefully around the filling. While I worked, I thought of Kodaly. Who could have been his enemies?

  He was a talented man, and Cassandra had suggested he had many friends within the artistic community. But three women—my mother, my grandmother, and Cassandra—suggested that Kodaly had been a wolf around the ladies. Could this really have gotten him killed? Did men kill out of jealousy? Did women kill because they were rejected? I supposed they did, but it seemed like a stretch. Plenty of people had reputations as romantic manipulators and lived to tell the tale.

  What else could be a motive for murder? If the tracking device on the bottom of the wolf was really meant for Kodaly, then that ruled out the possibility of a random ass
ailant or a surprised burglar. It meant the crime was personal.

  I finished folding my cabbage squares—fragrant with beef, rice, paprika, and onions—and tucked them into a large pot, covering them with my special Hana tomato sauce. I put them on simmer and turned to the cats. “What now?” I said.

  As if in answer, the phone rang, and I snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “Hana, it’s me,” said my mother.

  I struggled with my disappointment for a moment, then said, “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

  “I just spoke with Sofia on the phone.”

  “Your artist friend?”

  “Yes. She’s very upset about Will Kodaly.”

  “So was Cassandra. I spoke to her at the tea today.”

  “Yes. Really it is so sad, even to me. I can’t imagine how much sadder it would be if you had been in a relationship with a person.”

  “Did Sofia have—any ideas?”

  My mother sighed. “I don’t think so. She hadn’t been in touch with Will for a while. They had been an item once; I’m not quite sure when they broke up. But I get the impression that when Sofia married her husband a couple years ago, she had been trying to decide between two men. It’s sad, because she and her husband divorced. Now she’s dating some new man.”

  “Wow. Love is hard, isn’t it?”

  “Not always,” my mother said, her voice placid and soothing.

  Easy for her to say. She had married her first love.

  “Anyway. Did you get any other information out of her?”

  “Just that she’s going to this autumn ball that the chamber of commerce throws every year, and I guess she’s persuaded them to do a short tribute to Will at the event this Saturday. He was well-known in Riverwood. Sofia hinted that a lot of his former lovers would be present.”

  “Really.”

  “Your boyfriend might want to know that.”

  “Yes. I think I should tell him,” I said.

  “You do that. I don’t know that he can get in, unless he flashes his badge. The event is sold out, apparently. Anyway, I have to go. Your dad says hi.”

  “Hi to Dad, and good night to you both. I made stuffed cabbage, and my house smells great.”

  “Grandma would be proud.”

  I agreed with her, said a fond farewell, and hung up.

  I paced around my house for a while. Did I want to call Erik? Or did I want him to call me? After all, I had made the first gesture. I had driven to his house, left peace offerings and two heartfelt notes. His silence, after that, seemed a bit churlish.

  But perhaps he was working late, as he often did. If so, then it would be wrong to let resentment build up inside me. Perhaps even now he was pursuing some lead about Will Kodaly or the Herend wolf, and his police brain didn’t have time to think about his love life.

  I glanced at my watch. It was almost eight o’clock.

  With a sigh, I went to my television and stared at a mindless comedy for half an hour, then got up and checked on my cabbage rolls. I lifted the lid and smelled something divine; the aroma went through me like a bolt of pleasure, more powerful than usual, and I realized that I was experiencing something else, some other feeling, an intense mixture of pleasure and pain. It wasn’t about the food; something was happening.

  I turned off the flame under the pot, replaced the lid, and walked to my apartment door. I opened it to find Erik Wolf standing there, looking hungry, his hand lifted and about to knock.

  “Hello,” I said. “Did Iris buzz you in?”

  He nodded. “We have an arrangement.”

  Iris was five and lived on the first floor. She was better than any hired security guard; she kept watch on the building, and she knew friend from foe.

  Uncertain, not smiling, I said, “Erik—” and he lunged forward, pulled me against him, and spoke into my hair.

  “I’m sorry. I overreacted,” he said. “I don’t know why. Of course you’re curious about your ability. Anyone would be. And I understand why you would want—to see something that the others saw.”

  I leaned back and pulled his face down to my level. I kissed his stubbly cheek and the bridge of his nose and his mouth. “I don’t care. I don’t care if I ever see it. I know you’re the man for me.”

  He kissed me back for a while, then pulled away and said, “Yeah?”

  “Yes, of course. You knew that already. We both did.”

  He sighed, a man reprieved. “I’ve been feeling kind of sick for a day. It feels bad, not being on the right footing with you.”

  “I know. I felt it, too. But I have just the remedy.” Relief flowed through my veins, practically sedating me. I took his hand and pulled him into my apartment, and he stopped short.

  “God, it smells good in here. What is that, cookery witch?”

  I laughed. “Töltött káposzta. Hana’s version of Grandma’s recipe. She says it’s even better than hers, but of course she’s lying.”

  “I’m salivating. And I’ve barely eaten today, for a lot of reasons.”

  I pushed him into the kitchen, and then into a chair. Antony appeared and began playing with Erik’s shoelace. Slowly my boyfriend was starting to look like himself again. My grandmother would say that the fairies had freed him from a spell.

  I got him a Diet Coke out of my refrigerator when he said he was too tired for wine. I began to prepare him a plate. “You got my notes, I take it?”

  “What? Where did you leave notes?”

  I spun around. “At your apartment. I went there and left you things. You didn’t find them?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “I haven’t been home. I got caught up at work, and then I came here.” His green eyes locked on to mine. “I always come here.”

  I smiled and turned back to his plate. “Well, you’ll find some gifts from Hana when you get there.” I brought the plate and some silverware to the table. I made a quick blessing over Erik—a family tradition—and he began to eat.

  And then he began to moan. “Oh God,” he said. “Do you have any of that bread left from the other day?”

  I nodded and went to my pantry, where I got out some beer bread and cut a large slice. I brought it back to him. “The perks of having a Hungarian girlfriend.”

  He nodded. “But only one of about a million reasons I’m glad you’re my girlfriend.”

  The room felt good now, with happy waves surrounding us.

  I couldn’t resist saying, “That thumbs-up text was a nasty little touch.”

  His eyes were remorseful. “I was hurt.”

  “I know. You know who explained that to me? François. He took your side.”

  He tore off a piece of bread. “I was the talk of the tea house?”

  “No, I was. My failure to understand the ‘inner eye,’ as my grandma calls it. Your sisters were fascinated by that.”

  He sat up straight. “What? My sisters?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I went to your apartment to leave you apology presents, and they were there, both of them, and they studied me like I was a little bug under a microscope.”

  “Oh, Hana, I’m sorry! I was going to expose you to them in small doses.”

  I laughed. “No, it’s fine. I liked them. They’re fun. I think they liked me.”

  He had devoured two cabbage rolls and was sending longing glances toward the stove.

  “Would you like more?” I asked, laughing.

  “Is there any?”

  “Of course—remember what I told you?”

  “Right. The Domo factor. I’m going to give him a run for his money. I’ll get it, though.” He went to the stove, and I admired his tall form, his lean body, strong without the bulging muscles that I tended to find unattractive.

  “Your sisters told me what Ulveflokk means. I’m learning so many new things.”

 
“Yeah. You have your Hungarian clan of psychics, and I have the Wolf Pack.”

  “We’ll wait to tell Grandma. One wolf is enough for her.”

  He grinned and returned with his food. “Next time you go shopping, I’m going with you, so I can pay for your groceries. I’m always eating up your stock.”

  He sat down, looking at ease. Cleopatra strolled in, seemingly unconcerned that we had all been talking without her. Antony climbed onto Erik’s feet and closed his eyes, making Erik laugh.

  “We should go shopping together anyway. It’s romantic.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I’m afraid to ask: do you have any leads about Will?”

  “Will? When did he become Will?”

  “That’s what my mom calls him. He was an acquaintance, I guess. She says he was friends with a lot of people.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’m trying to go through his network and make sense of it all. Do you have anything more you can tell me?”

  “Well, yes. Do you have your sexy notebook?”

  He chewed and swallowed some food while smiling at me. Then he said, “My notebook is sexy?”

  “Very.”

  “I did not know that.” He pushed his plate away and took his notebook from his pocket. “And, yes, I do have it.”

  “Good.”

  We sat at the quiet table for a moment. He reached out and touched my fingers. Something curled inside me, twined around my core. I sighed.

  Then I leaned back. “Okay, here goes. My mother knows of three different women who were involved with Kodaly over the years.”

  Detective Wolf’s pen moved rapidly. “Names?”

  “Sofia Kálmar. She’s an artist, like him. Then Cassandra Stone. You might know her if you’ve ever gone to the library. She’s that really pretty lady with the office by the check-in counter. And then there’s Amber Derrien. She taught me in high school. She still does teach at Riverwood High.”

  “Good, good. I didn’t learn any of this today. I should just go to you first when someone Hungarian is involved.”

  “Hmm. Okay, then you should know that both my grandma and my mother said that Kodaly was a wolf.”

 

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