The Shaman of Kupa Piti by A. Nybo

Author:A. Nybo [Nybo, A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery/susepnse
ISBN: 978-1-64405-260-0
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2019-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

BACK IN his hotel room, Leon sent the digital voice interview to the AFP for transcription and rang Lars Andersson to see what could be found out about Evgeni Volkov and to ask for any fingerprints, aliases, and records to be sent through. He also rang Charlie to tell him the suspect’s real ID.

The rest of the afternoon he spent on the internet, trying to get his head around the idea of shamanism being a reality rather than a scam. His research offered an entirely new perspective on the topic. As he suspected, a lot of scamming was going on, but as the old adage went, where there’s smoke there’s fire—and he’d found enough informative kindling to get some smoke happening. Whether Sergei could make it catch was another thing altogether.

He considered taking Sergei some food, but with his mouth the way it was, he couldn’t think what Sergei might find edible. He stopped in at an Italian restaurant and grabbed himself some lasagne, something soft in case Sergei wanted to have a go at it. There wasn’t a person in the world who didn’t complain about hospital food. Well, if there was he hadn’t met them.

Even as he was approaching the room, Leon found himself smiling. Their beliefs might not mesh, but the man himself put a spring in Leon’s step.

Sergei had his eyes closed and lay on his side facing the door. Leaving Sergei to sleep, Leon sat on the other side of the bed, where he’d left the chair earlier. He pulled out his phone, intending to continue reading about shamans, but he’d only just turned it on when Sergei stirred and looked over his shoulder.

“Leon.” The deep voice was warm and welcoming. Sergei rolled over, his face screwed into a grimace.

“That sore still?”

Sergei lifted his chin in acknowledgement. “Some parts. I’ve been told it will take around six to ten weeks for the bruising to disappear.”

“Hopefully the pain will have long abated by then. Are you able to eat something soft?” He lifted the bag that contained the lasagne. The glint in Sergei’s eyes immediately told him Sergei wasn’t thinking about lasagne. “Hey,” Leon rebuked good-naturedly. “What was it you said to me? Something about a world of trouble?”

“I don’t have a professional interest in this,” Sergei said with a smirk.

With no comeback to that, Leon ignored it in favour of continuing to flirt. “Besides, it wouldn’t be soft for long.”

Sergei’s mouth twisted with amusement. “What is the food?”

“Lasagne.”

“Save me some. I’ve already eaten. They feed you dinner while it is still afternoon here. But go ahead and eat.”

Leon took the lasagne out and set the bag across his lap as a kind of napkin. “You said you’d tell me what was really going on.”

Sergei settled on his side and made himself comfortable, as if he were planning to tell a long story, which was more than fine with Leon. He wanted to spend as much time with Sergei as he could.

“Grigori Mishurin killed my father.”

With a forkful of lasagne in transit, Leon stopped.

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