632 P.M. — Wednesday, September 12
PETRA
Petra was woefully overdressed. Not only was the tiny restaurant a log cabin with plastic red and white checkered tablecloths (plastic?
!), but Luka was wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of Keds.
She had managed to squeeze into her little black dress, pairing it with some dangly silver earrings and a matching necklace, and the four-inch heels that terrified her.
She was going to have to walk very carefully over to Luka’s table to avoid the dreaded ankle buckle.
She gripped her shiny silver clutch (was it all too matchy-matchy or did it look coordinated?
She never could tell), then tried to imagine floating across the room.
It turned out that it didn’t matter if she crossed the restaurant like a sailboat on a quiet lake or if she resembled a first-day foal testing out her legs.
Luka was too busy looking at his mobile phone to notice.
She reached out and grabbed the back of the wooden chair to steady herself before she cleared her throat and said, “Good evening.”
Luka looked up, and his eyes grew wide in what she hoped was attraction, although it could’ve just as likely been shock that she was so dressed up or embarrassment because he was so under-dressed for their date. “You look really nice.”
“Thank you. You, too.” When he didn’t get up, she set her clutch on the table and pulled out her own chair. As soon as she sat down, Petra felt a sense of relief come over her, starting at her squished toes.
Luka flagged down the waitress, then had a sip of his beer from the bottle. “I got here a bit early, so I already ordered a drink. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course I don’t mind.” Petra did mind. He should have waited for her to arrive. She was only two minutes late, after all, and it felt like he was starting the date without her. No matter. When they were married, she’d let him know not to do that anymore.
The waitress hurried over. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she said, hoping that a shared love of beer would help Luka see how perfect they were for each other.
She had read an article about how men love a woman they can share a beer with because they see them as more fun in general.
So, she would pretend to enjoy it when the truth was, Petra disliked beer immensely.
Just not as much as living with her parents.
As soon as the waitress was gone, Luka leaned in. “So? Did you find anything out? I’ve been scouring the internet all afternoon, but there’s nothing about any deaths or anyone famous visiting Croatia this week.”
Secretly, she was glad he struck out. There were so few times when a girl like her could be a hero.
“Whatever is going on, it’s hush hush. I managed to sneak into The Director’s office when he went for a smoke.
He keeps this little notepad on his desk, and whatever he wrote down must be so secretive, he ripped the page out. ”
Luka’s face fell, and she saw that little angry line between his eyebrows appear again. “So…you’ve got nothing?”
The waitress came back with her beer and asked if they were ready to order. Luka looked at Petra. “Do you want to go with the cevapi and fried potatoes?”
“You did say it was the best in the city, so I have to try it.” Turning to the waitress, she smiled. “See if he’s got good taste.”
The waitress paused for a second too long before answering, and Petra could read the word ‘no’ across her face. As in ‘no, he doesn’t have good taste if he’s out with you.’ “We’re the best, for sure.”
Petra would have to get used to brushing off those types of expressions.
Or maybe not, because she was definitely going to lose at least thirty pounds after she moved in with Luka because she’d be too busy being happy to bother binge eating cake all evening.
She might even get a nose job and get her chin fixed too.
Then they’d come a lot closer to matching each other.
As soon as they were alone again, Luka started tapping his fingers on the table restlessly. “Back to the case. Did you find out anything?”
She stared at his impatient hand for a second.
Huh, maybe he really was just using her.
After all, he’d ordered his beer before she got there, he didn’t stand or pull out her chair, and now he was all business.
Not only that, he was being a little rude about it.
Maybe she should just say no and that she was sorry but she wasn’t going to be able to help him.
In fact, they probably shouldn’t see each other again.
It was a real risk to her career, after all.
She could go to the ladies’ room and flush the piece of paper down the toilet and never know what was on it.
Luka could find out about the dead body when the rest of the world did, and Petra would go back to her regular life.
But when she glanced at his face, those brilliant green eyes were staring back at her with such vulnerability, she couldn’t say no. “Well, I do have something. I mean, maybe it’s something. I thought it might be fun if we found out together.”
Opening her clutch, she pulled out the piece of paper and the pencil which she’d had to sharpen down by several centimeters to make it fit.
The whole thing took far too long, since the only sharpener she could find in the kitchen was dull and her mother had scolded her for wasting.
“Pencils don’t grow on trees, you know. They cost money. ”
Actually, Mother, pencils do grow on trees. Well, they were made from trees anyway.
Yes, she needed to get out of her parents’ house for good. And when she did, she’d buy an electric pencil sharpener and a box of pencils, and just sharpen them all down to nubs for the hell of it.
She flipped open the paper and held the pencil up to Luka, who narrowed his eyes. “It’s blank.”
“Yes, but not for long.” She made a big show of smoothing out the paper in front of her, then using the side of the pencil to lightly shade it in, starting at the top left corner and working her way down to the other side.
Her heart pounded a little, because if nothing showed through, she was about to look like an idiot.
Oh God, she was almost halfway and there was still nothing.
She stopped and gave Luka a sheepish expression.
“I ripped out the page that was right after the one The Director had taken. I thought maybe the words would come through.”
Luka smiled. “Brilliant.”
Shrugging, she said, “Apparently not.”
“Keep going.”
“Here, you do the rest,” she answered, sliding the paper and pencil across to him.
He got to work, his tongue sticking out of the right side of his mouth.
Petra watched, hoping that even if nothing was there, that he’d remember she was not only clever, but fun too.
Look at us, a proper couple out for dinner, drinking beer and solving a puzzle together.
She had a sip from her bottle and stopped herself from shuddering as the bitter liquid assaulted her tongue.
“Ah-hah!” Luka said. “Something’s starting to show!”
Petra watched as he continued to shade in the page, looking delighted. When he finished, he set the pencil down and stared at the sheet, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hmph.”
“What does it say?”
He spun the page to face her.
Winds of Opportunity
Cres - off W. C.
Petra’s face fell and she was about to apologize for getting him excited for nothing, but when she looked at him, he was busy typing something into his phone. “This is a huge lead.”
“It is?”
“Oh yes, this is the name of the vessel,” he said, pointing to the top line. “Tracking a yacht is the easiest thing in the world. Anyone can get the app.” Moving his finger down the page to the word Cres, he added, “And this is where the murder must have taken place. Just off of Cres Island.”
“We don’t know for sure that it was murder. It could have been anything. An accident, a heart attack, an allergic reaction...”
He shook his head. “Then why call The Director?”
Petra considered his question while she had another sip of beer. Yup, still awful. “Well, suppose it was someone so powerful that his death would have some sort of global impact. Or what if he was on the yacht with someone he shouldn’t have been?”
Luka sat back in his chair, his expression changing to one of admiration. “Now you’re thinking like a true crime podcaster.”
He picked up his phone and started typing while Petra sat in her chair, enjoying the moment. Maybe this would be the start of a new profession for her. They could be a married team, making podcasts together all day and making love all night.
Luka’s face spread into a wide grin. “Ha! The yacht must be heading to Mali Losinj.”
“To the police station.”
“Not only that, there’s a coast guard ship and a police boat right beside it.” He picked up his beer and had a long sip. “You were right. This is something, Petra. Something big.”
The waitress arrived with their plates, interrupting the moment between them. Luka picked up his fork and knife. “We have to eat fast. Well, I do, anyway. You can take your time. But I need to get on the road right away.”
“You’re going to Mali Losinj tonight?”
Nodding, he popped a bite of the sausage in his mouth. “Yes, that’s where the story is, so that’s where I need to be.”
“Of course.” Petra smiled even though this wasn’t exactly welcome news.
Here she thought they would go back to Luka’s place, and maybe she’d even spend the night, but instead he was going to eat and run.
She reminded herself to keep her eye on the bigger prize.
Her happily married life with a perky new nose, a perfect jawline, and smaller waist than her sister for once.
An hour later, she was on her way home with a new cell phone tucked into her clutch, her regular one sitting on the passenger seat of her little Honda.
Luka had given it to her right after he polished off his meal and told her to keep it on at all times in case he needed her.
This would allow them to stay in communication without any record of it that could get her into trouble.
She smiled to herself, thinking of how thoughtful her boyfriend was.
Boyfriend. That must be what he was to her now.
After all, he just took her for supper (although, in her opinion, the food was mediocre at best. She’d had better cevapi at a street fair and the potatoes were slightly undercooked, not that she’d ever tell him).
But the biggest sign that they were a couple was that he wanted to be in constant contact with her while he was away.
Yes, it could be about the case, obviously.
But right before he got in his car, Petra had told him she’s hoping this works out for him, and he said, “I’m hoping this works out for us. ”
Us.
That word had her heart fluttering as she sang along to “Saving All My Love for You.” When she neared her street, she decided to skip her usual evening of scrolling on Facebook in favor of using the secret phone to search for any information she could find about celebrities or politicians who had arrived in the country recently.
If she found anything helpful, she’d text it to Luka immediately to give him a leg-up when he got there.
She turned into her parents’ driveway and parked the car, an awful thought coming over her.
What if she had just accidentally sent Luka on a wild goose chase?