Vanished From Budapest by Maughan D.J

Author:Maughan, D.J.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hulyeseg Publishing
Published: 2022-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter twenty-six

Peter

Peter looks around the apartment as Zsuzsa gets out a kettle and fills it. The apartment is small but clean, and he likes the way it’s decorated. His own apartment is boring and sparsely furnished. He has almost nothing that would tell a guest anything about him. Zsuzsa’s, by contrast, is expertly appointed. The walls are painted different pastel colors. She has numerous pictures and art pieces on the walls. Her small table includes a lovely centerpiece of flowers and candles.

“Tejet akarsz?” she asks. He shakes his head. He had never understood why people put milk in tea. “Citrom?” she asks.

“Igen,” Peter bobs his head. He never passes on lemon.

“Go ahead and sit down,” she commands and points to the small table. Peter obliges but he worries he might pick a bad spot given the size of the centerpiece on the table. Zsuzsa senses his uncertainty and comes over to the table. “Let me just get rid of some of this stuff.” In a flash, she has picked up the flowers and candles and places his tea down in front of him.

As she sits down, Peter is anxious to get some answers from her. “Tell me about Andras?”

Zsuzsa takes a deep breath. “Peter, just forget what I said. I really think it’s better if I don’t talk about him.”

This is going to be harder than he thought. She knows things about Andras, but she’s scared and has clammed up. She’s white knuckling her teacup and she has a difficult time meeting his gaze. He knows he needs to be careful here. If he pushes too hard, he isn’t going to get any information from her. He needs her to feel she can trust him.

“Zsuzsa, can I tell you a story?” She looks at him warily but agrees. “When I was in NYC, I dealt with some difficult and scary situations. As you can imagine, people don’t contact the police because everything is going great. The same is true of a private investigator. Sometimes, I’ve become desensitized from hearing and witnessing so many difficult things. Anyway, one day as a detective, a woman came into my office. She told me that her daughter had been killed but the police were calling it a suicide. I could see the pain in the woman’s eyes, but, I’ll admit, I was skeptical. You see, nobody wants to believe their child would commit suicide. They want to believe there must have been some other reason.” Peter takes a sip of his tea. He looks in Zsuzsa’s eyes and knows he’s getting through to her; she’s completely engrossed in his story.

“Anyway, I told the woman that I would investigate the suicide and get back to her. To be honest, I really told her that to get her out of my office. I had rarely come across instances where I had found the police were wrong. Well, I talked with some of my contacts at the NYC police department and they shared some of the case evidence with me.

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