“No, I’m sure I haven’t. Believe me, if I had, I’d be someplace warm with her, not driving to my mother-in-law’s to get my wife.”
Vera smiled. She could guess the photo: her 8x10 from Carmen.
“Murder? Her?”
She’d explained to Fritz that she needed to leave Austria; she’d killed a man in self-defense. A politically-connected jealous ex-lover. Not a good man. He said he believed her, but was that before or after she’d kissed him? She couldn’t remember.
“My trunk?” The sound of the car door, footsteps, a key. “Is there a reward?”
The guard quoted a figure well over thirty pieces of silver.
Fritz had insisted he wouldn’t betray her; he’d dealt with the man, definitely not a good person. He’d assured her that the hidden compartment couldn’t be spotted, certainly not covered by blankets and a suitcase.
“The luggage? Sleeping over at my mother-in-law’s. I’d rather not, but my wife wants to return tomorrow when the border opens, not wait an hour after I cross and another coming back. If I had that reward, though, she could afford a cab. Hang on—” Fritz rooted through the trunk. “You’re shivering. Want a blanket?”
Vera suppressed a scream.
“No?” The trunk slammed.
Relieved, Vera gasped.
“What sound? A bird, I think. Yes, there it goes.”
Like the bird, Vera’s spirit soared as they crossed to freedom.
No comments:
Post a Comment