“Are you the police?”
“Why do you say that?” asked John, motioning to Betsy.
“The American lady no come back. All her things—we put them in the suitcases and they wait for her here. We had to rent the room.”
“She was staying there?”
“Yes. I made her reservations for a dinner at Hotel Thermia Spa Restaurant in Piestany. She never came back. ”
Chapter 54
ASPEN, COLORADO
DECEMBER 24, 2010
Dean Cox’s office.”
“Um. Hello. I’d like to speak to the dean, please.”
“May I ask who is calling?” said a woman’s voice.
“This is…Mary Jones. I was a student in Dr. Path’s class last semester.”
There was a pause on the line.
“I am sorry. I was expecting another call. The office is closed until next term. Please call after January tenth.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll be raising hell to the Foundation Board. My uncle is a major donor, and has been a member—”
The woman interrupted her.
“Maybe I can help you. The dean is on another line.”
“Well—I want to contest a grade. I’m really pissed. And my dad is a big-time donor to the university.”
“I see.”
“I’ve left messages for Dr. Path, but she hasn’t returned my calls.”
“Dr. Path is…on leave and unavailable at this time.”
“OK. So what I do about this grade? I mean I kept my exams and everything. I can prove that I didn’t fail this class—I got a ninety-five on the final! And—and I’ve transferred to a different school. These are on my transcripts and now I don’t have the credits—”
“These are matters you will have to take up with Dr. Path and the dean.”
“If I can’t speak to either one of them, how the hell do I—”
“I can send you a link to the paperwork required to file to contest a grade.”
“When is Dr. Path supposed to be back?”
“She…she is researching a book in Slovakia. We don’t expect her back until next term.”
“Slovakia?”
“I am sorry, Ms. Jones. We can’t discuss this—”
“Hey! I’m the one has an F on my transcripts.”
“Please file the paperwork and the dean will review the matter. Which class was this?”
Daisy ended the call. She flipped open her laptop, opened a browser window, and typed in search terms.
SLOVAKIA. GRACE PATH, UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.
As an afterthought she added AMAZON.COM.
The search produced two books by Dr. Grace Path: THE REIGN OF MATTHIAS II, EMPEROR OF THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE. TWO BROTHERS, TWO EMPERORS: RUDOLF II AND MATTHIAS II.
There was one pre-order book: THIS BOOK HAS NOT BEEN PUBLISHED: PORTRAIT OF A MADWOMAN: COUNTESS ERZSEBET BATHORY OF ROYAL HUNGARY.
On the cover was the portrait of a pale-faced woman with a high, slightly bulging forehead. Her hair was held back in a headdress and her face was framed by a ruffled collar.
“Madwoman?” whispered Daisy.
FROM THE PUBLISHERS: DR. GRACE PATH, KNOWN FOR HER SCHOLARLY RESEARCH AND EXPERTISE IN THE REIGN OF MATTHIAS II, EMPEROR OF THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE, EXPLORES NEW TERRITORY IN THIS COMPELLING BOOK, EXPLORING BOTH FACT AND FICTION OF THE LEGENDARY MURDERESS COUNTESS ERZSEBET BATHORY…
Daisy’s black fingernails clicked against the computer keys. U.S. Embassy. Slovakia. She scribbled down the number and e-mail address.
“Bratislava,” she murmured. “Where the hell is that?” She typed “Google maps” into the browser and, moments later, Bratislava popped into focus.
She dialed 411 and waited.
“Hi. How do I dial direct to Bratislava, Slovakia, from the U.S?”
“Yes. This is the daughter of Dr. Grace Path,” Daisy lied, working hard to make her voice sound more mature. “I need—”
“I’ve told you before, Ms. Path,” said an irritated male voice on the other end of the line. “We have no further information about the disappearance of your mother. Your report has been filed and all other inquiries will have to be made to the Bratislava police—”
“Wait? You—she’s missing?”
“Excuse me,” said the man, losing the edge in his voice. “You did say you were Dr. Path’s daughter. Is this Elizabeth?”
All right, asshole, thought Daisy, her lip catching on her canine as she smiled.
“No. I’m—her other daughter. Mary. I had no idea my mother had been formally classified as missing.”
“You should contact your sister.”
“I—I’ve tried. I—can’t get through to her on her cell. I’ve called and called. I am distraught with worry. I—”