The Elusive Mrs. Pollifax by Dorothy Gilman

Author:Dorothy Gilman [Gilman, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780804151849
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-05-06T23:00:00+00:00

15

Mrs. Pollifax was awakened at nine o’clock the next morning in Tarnovo by an urgent hammering on the door and a message–acted out in pantomine–that she was wanted at once on the telephone in the lobby. Mrs. Pollifax threw her coat over her pajamas and hurried downstairs.

She had expected it to be Nevena, and braced herself. But it was not Nevena, it was the American Embassy in Sofia, and after being told to wait she at last heard the faint but unmistakable voice of Mr. Eastlake.

“However did you find me!” she exclaimed.

Eastlake’s voice sounded tired. “With difficulty. Have you heard from Balkantourist this morning?”

“No.”

“You will,” he said dryly. “They told me where you are. They seem rather angry, though. There was some kind of accident?”

“Among other things,” she said. He couldn’t have called about the accident and she told him so.

“Quite true,” he said. “I recall your concern about young Trenda, and knowing that you’re still in the country I thought you might enjoy your vacation more if you knew he’s being released this afternoon. At two o’clock, at the Embassy.”

“Released?” echoed Mrs. Pollifax incredulously.

“Released. You sound surprised.”

“Surprised but delighted,” she said hastily. She wondered how she could possibly explain her intense surprise, when Philip’s confinement had brought three attempts on her life, the latest of them last night. “At two o’clock, you said?”

“Yes. If you have that young Debby’s address you might like to reassure her as well, although she’s bound to be reading it in the major western Europe newspapers.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Pollifax, and then, “What made them … that is …”

“Diplomatic pressure, I imagine,” Eastlake said crisply. “I suspect the Kremlin intervened as well. Because of Bemish’s early dispatches the news has been headlined since Tuesday morning in London, Paris, New York, Oslo.… But all’s well that ends well, eh, Mrs. Pollifax? Happy journeying.”

“Yes … and thank you so much,” she said, hanging up and hurried upstairs to tell Debby. “Philip’s being released at two this afternoon in Sofia.”

Debby sat bolt upright. “Great!” she shouted and rolled to her feet in that same beautifully fluid athletic manner that had so dazzled Mrs. Pollifax on the night of the burglary.

“Breakfast first, and then packing,” said Mrs. Pollifax hurriedly, but even so she was summoned to her second telephone call while still in bare feet.

This time it was Nevena, a very excited and aggrieved Nevena, who wanted to know what Mrs. Pollifax was doing in Tarnovo when she was supposed to be in Borovets.

“Well,” said Mrs. Pollifax, drawing a deep breath, “I met some people who told me Tarnovo was too beautiful to be missed. I met them only a block from the hotel when I took a wrong turning–”

“How could you take a wrong turning?” demanded Nevena. “The directions were plain, very clear. I saw them. They said–”

“I took this wrong turning,” continued Mrs. Pollifax blandly, “and I met these people.”

“What people?”

“English, I think, or Canadian. The man was quite tall and had a scar. On his left cheek,” she added artistically.

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