13
M ikhail’s last order was a real treat to Zacharia’s curiosity. The mystery around the dead minister had been tempting him for a while, but it hadn’t been his to solve. Until now.
He observed the woman seated several rows ahead in the cinema.
The most intriguing mysteries in a man’s life hide behind the deceitful weakness of female curves , he mused.
He had nicknamed her “Stilettos.” Mysteries always sparked excitement and raised questions.
For Zacharia, the real dilemma was whether he truly sought the answers or was so captivated by the enigma itself – like an addict, eager to dive deeper and become more entangled.
What makes a mystery so enticing? Its complexity. Once unravelled, the intrigue ends. It was why Zacharia preferred to prolong the experience, lazily weaving through the tendrils of temptation, posing questions with no real desire for answers.
But not this time. The mystery of Stilettos was too important to toy with.
“Zacharia, the movie was fantastic! I’m so glad you brought me,” Tina whispered into his ear. The cinema lights flickered on, rousing the dozing spectators. “What’s next?”
Zacharia’s eyes tracked Stilettos when she headed towards the exit. “A surprise…”
The snowy evening did not deter Stilettos while she navigated the parking lot. Zacharia maintained a respectful distance, never letting her out of his sight. Her slender heels – glossy leather with red soles, sparkling stones and studs – were showstoppers. And those calves… killers, indeed.
No woman wore such shoes for a movie outing with her son.
And certainly not when it was snowing – unless she planned to remain in just those shoes at some point throughout the evening.
The dapper young man by her side was decked out in a flamboyant, extravagant outfit, and resembled a walking billboard for trendy men’s fashion. He was most definitely not her son.
Stilettos tossed the Mercedes keys to him, waiting for him to open the door for her. The young man then slipped into the driver’s seat and sped off with the urgency of someone whose time behind the wheel of the expensive car depended on his ability to satisfy Stilettos.
As soon as Tina settled into the passenger seat beside him, Zacharia followed the duo.
The young man might have tried to boost his manhood via the Mercedes’ accelerator, but the bad weather didn’t allow him to get far before Zacharia caught up.
He trailed the Mercedes into one of Sofia’s newer neighbourhoods.
“I’m curious,” Tina said, eyeing the residential blocks on either side of the street. “Are you taking me to a new restaurant?”
“We’ll see, darling. We’ll see…”
The Mercedes glided to a halt in front of a five-story residential cooperative and the couple directed their steps towards the entrance.
From across the street, Zacharia idled in his vehicle, snapping a few photos with his phone.
Though unobtrusive, the photographs captured the amorous intentions of the duo.
Tina exhaled. “We’re not on a date, are we, Zacharia?”
He examined her made-up face and the new dress she had donned for the occasion. “I’m afraid not, Tina. We’re not.”
“And I suppose there’s no dinner at a restaurant?”
“Regrettably, no.”
“Are we at least heading home?”
“Later, we are.”
Lights flickered on the third floor, thick drapes blocking any further view.
Zacharia reclined in his seat, pondering.
Was Stilettos truly an enigma, or were they conjuring phantoms beneath her stiletto heels?
A wealthy widow, suddenly bereft of her philandering husband, mourning with a younger stallion.
On the surface, she was unremarkable. Yet, as another thread in the vast, tangled skein he was determined to unravel, Zacharia would pursue her mystery until he could confirm she was merely a shadow of her deceased spouse.
Tine frowned. “Those two are probably on their third round by now! Something we should be doing instead of lingering in the damned car! What are we waiting for, Zacharia?”
“I’m not sure…”
“I’m leaving.” She exited the vehicle, and he did not attempt to dissuade her. Tina was a capable adult. Moreover, she was a vampire and could manage her way home.
Around two in the morning, a taxi arrived, and Stilettos’ companion emerged alone from the building. He drifted away in the hired ride, but Zacharia remained.
The next day, Stilettos, in comfortable sneakers, ventured out for her morning coffee at a nearby shopping centre. Zacharia kept his distance while she settled down and ordered from the waitress.
Then he took a seat across from her on the table. “Rough night?”
Stilettos surveyed him with an expressionless face. “And you are…?”
“Someone you won’t be seeing again if our conversation goes smoothly.”
Her eyes flickered, calculating. Judging by last night’s company, Zacharia didn’t fit her taste in men, but few women were immune to the icy blue of his eyes.
She sipped her coffee and set the cup back on its saucer. The corners of her plump lips twitched into a thin smile. “Now you’ve piqued my interest…”
“I have a few questions about your ex-husband.”
She frowned. “You really know how to kill the mood, don’t you? And here I thought fate had arranged for me a fun little rendezvous with a stranger.”
“I thought the fun rendezvous was last night.” Zacharia pulled out his phone, showing her the photos he’d taken.
She chuckled. “You’ve been following me? Sexy. Are you from the media? You don’t look like a reporter.” Her gaze swept over his neatly trimmed hair and leather jacket.
“I’m not a reporter.”
“A detective?”
“Let’s just say I had business dealings with your husband.”
“Were you his bodyguard?”
“No.”
Stilettos gave a dismissive hand gesture. “If he owed you money, I’m sorry, but you won’t see a dime from me. Everything I have come from my father, not from that low-life ex-husband I made into a man…”
“Mrs. Vrabcheva—”
“Ms. Bogdanova. I’m using my maiden name.”
“All right, Ms. Bogdanova. Your husband – the former Minister of Transportation – was found dead in a rented apartment…”
“ That, he was.” She pursed her lips. “I still can’t believe it happened so fast…”
Zacharia smirked. This woman did not grieve for her husband, though she may pretend she did.
He decided it was time to press harder. “Did you know he had a mistress?”
Stilettos inspected her manicure. When she looked up at Zacharia again, the playful sparkle in her eyes was gone. “Listen, big boy – I don’t know why you’re following me, but surely you don’t expect me to air my husband’s dirty laundry, especially in front of strangers who crash my breakfast.”
The waiter slammed a large plate with an omelette, toast, and orange juice onto the table. “I’ll have the same.” Zacharia made his order and smiled at Stilettos. “If we dine together, I won’t seem like an intruder, right?”
She began to eat with impeccable manners, ignoring him.
“You have a son,” he said. “How would he react if he saw the pictures with that gigolo, who’s younger than him?”
Stilettos swallowed her bite. “Eugene is not a gigolo! He’s just a very ambitious young man! As for my son – he’s only interested in alcohol and girls, so he wouldn’t be disturbed by these pictures.”
“And what if your life was in danger?”
Her eyes pierced his. “Are you threatening me, big boy?”
Zacharia shook his head. “I’m warning you. Your husband didn’t die of a heart attack. He was murdered. His mistress, too.”
Stilettos took a sip of her juice. “I don’t believe you.”
“And I don’t expect you to just because of my honest blue eyes.
” Zacharia dug out the photo with the evidence on his phone and showed it to her.
It had been taken hours after the box containing the severed head of Kaliope Gazis had appeared in front of the Hospital.
The witch’s black hair, covered in dried blood, and her face frozen in fear, were distinguishable even in death.
Clearly, Stilettos recognised them, too. If she was frightened, she didn’t show it. Instead, she cleared her throat. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Maybe nothing.” Zacharia shrugged. “But didn’t you find it odd that your husband suffered a heart attack?”
Stilettos raised her chin. “Why would I find that strange?”
“I read an interview where he claimed to lead a very healthy lifestyle.”
“So?”
“He had no cardiovascular diseases – actually, no diseases at all… Tell me, at the time of his death, how long had you known about his affair?”
The ex-Mrs. Vrabcheva threw a crumpled napkin onto her half-eaten plate.
“Our chit-chat ends now. If your goal was to warn me – thanks, I’ll be careful.
If you’re trying to fish out information about my husband, it’s not happening.
You can’t scare me with a severed head – that could be Photoshopped.
That woman might have even sent you to make stupid jokes at my expense. ”
She pulled out some banknotes from her purse.
Zacharia leaned across the table. “Why would she jest with you after the minister’s death? Did you know her in person?”
Stilettos stood up. “Don’t bother approaching me again.”
The waiter arrived with Zacharia’s meal.
“Enjoy your breakfast, big boy.” Stilettos slung her small purse over her shoulder and walked away.
Zacharia let her go, contemplating their conversation. After a while, he remembered Tina and dialled her number. “Hello, grumpy. Should I come over?”
“I’m already at work, Zacharia.”
“So, tonight?”
“We’ll see.” The call ended, signalling much more than the conclusion of a fruitless conversation.