Never Mind the Vampires, Here's Transylvania by Mike Ormsby

Author:Mike Ormsby [Ormsby, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: short stories. Romania, Măgura, Transylvania, Bran
ISBN: 9786069390276
Publisher: Nicoaro Books
Published: 2017-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

The Enemy Within

Our beautiful cushion – my favourite – is not on the sofa, where it should be. It’s not in my study, where it could be. And it’s not in the attic, where it would never be. I know, because I’ve checked all those places. Our beautiful cushion is missing, disappeared, gone.

“Cushion, did you say?” Angela pokes at the keyboard of her laptop. Listening, but not really.

“The zebra hide cushion. From Namibia. It’s vanished, Angela.”

“Must be somewhere.”

“It should be on the sofa. The gazelle cushion goes on the right, the zebra on the left.”

“Since when?”

“Since whenever I tidy up. I arrange them like that. It’s symmetrical. Zebra, gazelle. Looks nice. Well, it used to look nice. But now there’s no zebra cushion, see?” I point at the sofa.

Angela glances across. “It’ll turn up. When did you notice?”

“Fifteen minutes ago. I can’t find it anywhere. This is weird.”

“Did you check the garage?” Angela turns back to her laptop and continues checking something more important.

“The garage? Why would that cushion be in the garage, Angela?”

“You never know. Anyway, if you check, please bring me a bottle of mineral water?”

The cushion is not in the garage and our little jeep will not answer my questions, so obviously it knows something. I grab a bottle of mineral water from a shelf, carry it into the house and pour a glass for Angela, who says, “Well?”

I pace the room, checking corners and peeping under cupboards. “No luck. Know what I think?”

Angela sips water, calm in my crisis. “No idea.”

“Someone stole it.”

“Obviously.”

“Someone who liked our cushion.”

“Absolutely.”

“Someone who’s been in the house.”

“Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m serious.”

“Mike, don’t be silly, who would do such a thing?”

“Someone who’s been in the house. They saw it and they–”

“A visitor stole our zebra cushion? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Angela, a cushion doesn’t just vanish. It was on the sofa, there. Now it’s gone. So, you tell me. What do you think?”

“Paranoia, is what I think. People don’t steal cushions.”

I stand near the big window, looking at the mountains capped with snow under a pale blue sky. Neat little farmhouses dot the valley below us. It’s a glorious view and we’re lucky to live here, which makes it all difficult to believe a friend or neighbour would steal from us. But someone did. Someone out there knows where our lovely cushion is. Someone who waited until our backs were turned. I’ll crack this little mystery. I just need to think.

“I have an idea, Angela. I’m going to look at some photos.”

“Photos?”

“Yes, for clues. Ovidiu and Alina visited in November, right? We sat on the sofa for a selfie. If the cushion was on the sofa, we’ll be able to see it. That will provide a time frame.”

“Unless one of us sat in front of the cushion.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Who do you think you are, Lieutenant Colombo?”

“We all start somewhere. I’ll start with photos.”

Settled at my laptop, I browse folders of various snaps until I spot what I’m looking for.

“Angela, I found one, come and look.

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