A Treasure to Die For
By: Allison K. García
Now, I never was the best cook but I was a good crook and when I heard those Russians talking about a treasure in the kitchen of the train, I knew what my next job would be.
I searched day and night, in between slinging potatoes and kielbasa. I knew that kitchen like the back of my hand. Every bowl, every spoon, every spice. Nothing.
Then one day I heard them again, talking about the treasure. I tried to be casual about it, though my heart pumped faster than the pistons on the train. And that’s when the idiot pulled out a waffle iron. A favorite among the staff.
Let me just tell you. Those were the angriest waffles I ever made. My grandmother’s famous recipe, I told them. Blueberry with a hint of rat poison and lemon. They never saw it coming.
I hopped off in Moscow, bags stuffed with the treasures of dead men.