A RIGA MYSTERY

CHAPTER 1

Simone tightened her head scarf–her babushka, she called it. She hated rain. It made everything look depressingly drab and dirty—and, well, sort of grey. Grey was her nemesis. Just the other day her aunt Velga had frowned and looked pointedly at her. “Grey hair is like menopause for the whole world to see. Is that what you want?”  Simone had rolled her eyes.  Menopause, for God’s sake! That was ages ago. Still, she had smiled smugly to herself, knowing that she looked at least ten years younger than her real age—maybe even more. Besides, Simone didn’t give a fig about the whole world. Only Arseniy mattered.

Ruggedly handsome Arseniy was almost two decades her junior. She didn’t even have a pet name for him. Arsy sounded a bit, well, unfortunate–at least to her few English speaking acquaintances. To her horror he had once been taken for Max, her oldest grandson. Hunching her shoulders, huddling down into her old Burberry, she shuddered at the memory.  Arseniy wasn’t the type of man who could see her inner beauty. The grey has to go. 

It was a cold November late afternoon that found Simone trekking through the muddy streets of Riga, heading to Egmond’s apartment house. She really shouldn’t have worn her good shoes.  All that crap on the sidewalk really annoyed her. They were always digging up something, repairing something and taking forever to do it. She especially hated the filthy, dark passage that led to the rundown old building Egmond lived in. It was right behind what was  once a grand Jugendstyl beauty. How little of the grandeur remained! She sighed to herself each time she passed it. Many of Riga’s beautiful old buildings were quite nicely renovated but this one remained forgotten.

It was already dark. Her feet were killing her now and her shoes were all wet. She paced around trying to get warm as she waited at the shabby entrance door for her friend to join her. No way was she prepared to climb up to the sixth floor where Egmond lived with his ailing father.

Why is he late? She looked at her watch and felt the onset of a migraine. This kind of weather always did her in. The frigid mid-November rain was the worst.

It was ten minutes after four o’clock but Eggy (as she affectionately called him) had said he wouldn’t make her wait. Had something happened? Was Papa okay? The old man had asthma.

Where is he! It was so dark and deserted in this derelict old courtyard. She felt a chill descend and pulled the Burberry tighter.

Suddenly she tensed. She heard a sound behind her. So close. She held her breath. Then blew it out with a frightened gasping sound. A dark form moved. Shifted towards her. Panic rocketed to her brain like a cruise missile.

Simone  opened her mouth to scream.

But nothing came out.