Legacy of Danger

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Cemetery Evanston, Illinois

“I was murdered.”

Startled, Elena Dkany searched for the source of the whisper. Nothing. Undertakers lowered Magda Dkany’s body into the ground.

A breeze blew in from Lake Michigan, dropping the temperature as Elena Dkany watched her grandmother go from ashes to ashes and dust to dust. A flock of seagulls squawked overhead.

A voice, floating from nowhere, whispered again.

“Elena.”

Elena froze, but the chill didn’t come from the air.

No voice except the priest praying over her grandmother’s coffin. Hearing non-existent voices was not a good thing.

She shook her head and, hopefully, the cobwebs from her brain. Must be imagining things, a result of the long and tragic week.

Briar Hill College’s faculty and staff stood close by under the shade of the oak trees. They’d abandoned their classes to pay tribute to the widow of their college president.

As the coffin disappeared into the ground, a vapor materialized by Elena’s side, and a scent of roses surrounded her. Its perfume overpowered the smell of the pines and moldy earth. Strange. No rose bushes grew in the small cemetery.

Roses without a rose garden. Freezing when it was hot. Her grandmother, lying in a coffin. Dead. This is not happening.

But it was. Her grandmother stood by her side as though she’d never died—like they were attending somebody else’s funeral. And nobody seemed to notice. No startled looks, no wide eyes, no ‘Oh my God’s.’

The ghost of Magda Dkany spoke. “You must find your son.”

“Who are you?” The voice jolted Elena into an unpleasant reality. My son? But he died nine years ago before he’d been a month old.

Elena focused on the apparition. Beside translucent, Magda appeared as she’d looked only two days ago.

“Elena, I was murdered. Now your life . . . in danger. Your . . . son in danger. Find Alexander. He can help you.”

Her heart pounded fast enough without hearing her life might be in danger, and Alexander Brancusi was not someone she wanted to see.

The apparition thinned, and the voice softened.

“Go to Dkany. Find your son.” Now she was hardly an outline.

“But . . .”

The vapor dissipated along with the scent of roses.

Magda’s presence knocked Elena off balance, and she scrambled to keep from toppling onto the casket now halfway into the earth. A man with a mild scent of musky aftershave caught her arm.

Father Christofides, the American-Romanian Orthodox priest who’d baptized Elena, appeared strange and intimidating. A large crucifix hung around his neck like an ominous albatross of death. Everything moved in slow motion, a surrealistic emptiness of space and time. “Eternal your memory, Magda, our sister, worthy of blessedness and ever-remembered.”

Elena turned to thank the man, but her friend Marina Brancusi now held her. She didn’t know when Marina and the stranger changed places.

Dkany home, Evanston, Illinois

Elena leaned against the wrought iron railing of her grandmother’s patio and inhaled scents from the wide variety of Magda’s flowers. The garden of exotic blooms had attained somewhat of a local legend status in the neighborhood. A secret garden hid from view by towering white pines allowed in an occasional blue patch from Lake Michigan. A lone apple tree hugged the house—nature’s perfect playground. Elena played in that tree as a child and delighted in climbing into her grandmother’s window.

Life had a way of balancing miseries. Elena lost her parents at an early age but grew up in this wonderful old Victorian house, a child’s fantasies come true. But life also played a nasty trick on an old woman overflowing with energy and love, her future snuffed out by a hit-and-run driver. But murder?

Funeral guests came and went. Elena barely heard their condolences.

Only one man remained on the patio the whole time as friends weaved in and out. At the edge of the railing, he too, gazed at the garden. His attire—a white starched shirt, dark blue suit, and maroon tie—painted him elegant, dashing. He stood tall and thin. Well-muscled. The man from a lifetime ago, Alexander Brancusi.

“How are you doing?”

Startled, Elena spun around and nearly knocked a glass of Scotch out of Marina’s hand.

“Sorry.” Elena eyed her friend, who juggled two glasses to keep them from tipping. “Your brother is standing over there. I don’t think I want to see him right now.”

“He’ll be here in a minute. Drink this. I think you need it.” Marina handed her the glass.

Elena sighed, took the glass, and tossed down too much of the swirling liquid. The warmth of the whiskey burned her throat as she swallowed. A cough shook her body.

“Watch how you drink that.” Marina patted her on the back.

Elena wiped her mouth with her hand, breathed deeply, and took an easier sip. Maybe it would dull the edge of the depression that threatened to overwhelm her. “I’m trying for drunken oblivion.” Elena tried to smile but ended up fighting tears.

Marina put a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, it’s okay to cry. It’ll be hell for a while, but it’ll get better, you’ll see.”

Elena sighed. “Maybe.”

Alex raised his glass and moved toward them.

“He’s coming, be nice,” Marina whispered.

“Mari, we were over a long time ago. I haven’t seen him in almost ten years, so it really doesn’t matter anymore.”

Elena regarded the man, then glanced back at his sister. She smiled at their differences. His skin tanned by too much sun, hair a dark brown–almost black, except for a strange streak of sun-bleached red, a trait he’d inherited from his father. Marina was fair-skinned with copper hair and green eyes, like her mother.

Along with Elena’s brother Freddy, they’d all been close from early childhood, playmates, and buddies throughout school. But Alex—Alex was a whole different story. What had been a childhood friendship turned into a teenage crush, then a relationship she didn’t want to dwell on.

Elena came back to reality. “Listen, while we’re still alone, there’s something I want to tell you.”

Marina raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“I’ve decided to go to Romania.”

“You’ve decided to what?”

A breeze blew Elena’s dark hair into her face. “Magda wanted me to travel with her this summer, to go through my brother’s things, and settle the estate.” She couldn’t exactly say her grandmother’s ghost told her to go.

“You should take someone with you,” Marina said.

Elena c****d her head. “You want to come with me? We speak Romanian. We’d have a great time, roaming around the countryside and meeting the locals in Dkany. We could explore the castle and visit the monastery.”

“I’m starting my internship, but I was thinking about Alex. He’s not teaching this summer.”

Dear God, no. “Marina, I’ll be fine by myself. I lived there, remember?”

Silence

Inwardly, Elena winced. Nobody wanted to talk about her life in Romania. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

The man approached through a cluster of people, and the scent of his after-shave filled the air. He’d been the one supporting her at the cemetery.

Marina clutched her arm. “Elena, yes, you do. You’re very capable, but Romania isn’t the same as . . . Well, it’s still wild in spots, especially in Transylvania.”

Alex spoke up in a clear baritone voice. “She doesn’t need my help, and Romania isn’t in my plans this summer. Hello, Elena.” He kissed her on both cheeks. “It’s been a long time. I’m sorry we had to meet under such lousy circumstances.”

Elena’s gaze locked onto the eyes of Marina’s older brother. The drink in her hand trembled. His eyes invoked bittersweet memories from their shared past.

“Thanks.” She forced a smile. “And thanks for catching me at the cemetery. I nearly fell on top of the casket.”

Alex wrinkled his nose. A grin bent his lips. “Yeah. You were a bit unsteady on your feet. Falling on a casket wouldn’t have been graceful. By the way, who were you talking to?”

Elena dropped her gaze to the patio and focused on sparkling bands of sunlight reflecting off the concrete. Heat warmed her cheeks. She glanced at him and considered her answer.

“My grandmother,” she admitted. “I was talking to Magda. Does that sound strange?”

Alex shook his head. “No, not really.” Pain shadowed his face. “I’m sorry about Magda. I visited her often while you and Marina were away at school. I thought she was lonely, then discovered she had more friends than she knew what to do with.”

Elena managed a smile and nodded. “I know. She told me. She also mentioned you’d gotten your doctoral thesis on Romanian history published.”

He shrugged. “Yes, I did.” His arms crossed. His body leaned nonchalantly against the railing. “Heard you went to Romania and got married, and you’d gotten your master’s degree from the University of Indiana.”

“Magda kept you informed.”

“She did. I heard about every test you took.”

But, somewhere in there, Elena had lost her entire family. He didn’t mention that.

A woman crossed the patio and waved at Alex.

Alex told Elena, “Excuse me. I have a student I need to talk to.”

“Thanks for catching me this morning,” Elena responded to his back.

He halted and spun back to her, his gaze scrutinizing. “I’m glad I was good for something.”

Alex pivoted toward his student and walked her into the house.

Elena turned toward Marina. “So, who the heck is that?”

“That,” Marina replied, “is a Mrs. Brancusi wanna-be.” She shook her head. “Not going to happen.”

Elena shrugged. “Why not? What’s wrong with him?”

Mari stifled a laugh. “You,” she said.