Heroic Measures (continued)

She seated the three of them at a table, handed each of them a menu, and then hurried off toward what Walter assumed was the kitchen.

Walter was relieved to read descriptions of the various dishes, as he thought it was far from likely that he could have reasoned them out from their names.

God knows what I might have ordered . . .

He learned, though, that there were actually few meals on the menu that he would have found completely unpalatable. Unlike other ethnic cuisine he had experienced, these dishes appeared to lack such unappetizing ingredients as tripe and tongue. Walter was left, instead, with trying to determine which exotic-sounding spices might be most appealing.

He settled on marinated slices of lamb served with sides of seasoned rice and some kind of cucumber-based yogurt sauce, pointing to the item on the menu. Red ordered his dish with an almost flawless accent, eliciting a pleased smile from the matron. After long consideration, Vivian requested a rice dish with vegetables, the name of which Walter thought he might have been able to pronounce with only a little effort.

The matron gathered their menus and left them, heading once again into the kitchen. They sipped from their glasses of iced lemon-honey green tea while they waited. It seemed as none of them had either the energy or inclination to talk. After several minutes, Vivian excused herself and headed back toward the restrooms.

“Any idea what’s eating her?” Red asked as soon as he was certain that she was well out of listening range.

Walter stared after Vivian, or rather the point where she had disappeared into the short hallway that led to the restrooms, and shook his head.

“No idea.”

Red studied him for a moment and then shrugged, turning his attention back to his iced tea. Walter looked around the interior of the small restaurant again, pausing on various bits of the décor that caught his attention.

Vivian remained several minutes later. Her step seemed lighter and she smiled at the two men as she sat back down.

Walter exchanged a furtive, perplexed glance with Red, who expressed similar puzzlement. Vivian reached for a slice of the fresh pita bread, something which she had abstained from completely only a few minutes earlier. Sliding it through the platter of yogurt sauce, she took a healthy bite from the thin wedge of bread.

“I hope it’s almost ready,” she said between swallows. “I’m starving.”

Walter tried to mask his astonished expression and wondered whether her choice of the rice dish was going to be enough food to satisfy her.