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“Your mother was quite different before you were born.” He reaches into a leather sling bag hanging on the chair next to him. “This might help. I haven’t read any of it. It’s for you to decide if you want to.”
My hand is numb and shaky as I reach across the table for the small hardbound book. It’s dingy and stained. The edge of the cover is creased. The cover is embossed with a flaked off gold title that reads, malé básne. Translated to English, it’s Little Poems.
Intentionally not reading anything inside, I thumb through the pages. “Why would anyone use this as a diary?”
Josef grins. “Little spy, think about that.”
Scotch taps the book, “Because no one would think of it being a journal. Just an old forgotten book sitting on the shelf.”
Josef’s grin is appreciative. “Smart man.”
I stuff the small book in my coat pocket, unable to look at it any longer. Digging into that won’t happen until I’m behind closed doors, alone.
“Is that your man over there?” Josef tips his head slightly toward Andre.
Scotch raises a brow. “Maybe.”
Josef laughs. “He’s discreet. I’m just wise.”
“I have no doubt, Simona’s very talented, and I heard she learned from the best.”
The waitress approaches with our order. As she’s passing out our plates Josef lightly comments, “He’s smooth, I see why you like him.”
I grumble as I take my plate. “Let’s just say he’s trouble.”
The waitress scurries off and I see her chatting up Andre with a flirty grin on her face. I bet she does like the big American. He’s not like your average Czech man. Andre’s got this air of danger that surrounds him like a cloak.
I turn the conversation back to the bounty for my ‘recovery.’
“I’ve dug through everything I can think of and nothing makes sense about this person who’s looking for me. The two other people that are being hunted have similar characteristics as me, one with a similar birthmark.”
Scotch rubs his hand over my thigh in a supportive gesture.
I take a breath and say what I’ve mentioned only to Scotch. “I think the others could be siblings that I don’t know about.”
Josef chews a bite of his grilované klobásy, and when he finishes, he says, “I think you’re onto something, Simona.”
“But who is our father?” I ask, knowing that none of us has the answer.
Scotch sets aside his fork. “Do you know who your mother’s doctor was?”
I can’t breathe for a minute. “I don’t.”
Josef takes a blank card from his sports coat pocket. He jots a name on the back and slides it across the table to Scotch. “This man knew him before he died.”
That’s not what I expected. “Oh…”
Josef’s expression turns dark. “The doctor who delivered you died a short time ago. Not in a pretty way. And I heard that he was very frightened for some time before he met his demise. I thought you might want to know.”
I let that news sink in as I push my food around. “I should speak to this man who knew the doctor.”
Josef continues to eat. When he’s done, he says, “Be careful, child. I understand you’re on fire to dig this out, just don’t lose your head.”
Scotch wraps a possessive arm around my shoulder. “I’m not going to leave her side.”
That seems to please Josef. The rest of the meal, we talk about the garden he raised in the summer. The forecast for more snow this weekend, and his interest in doing some travel when the weather breaks.
It’s hard for me to follow along at first because my mind is full of details that don’t add up, but I remind myself— You never know when the last chance to visit this man will be.