Siren of the Waters: A Jana Matinova Investigation, Vol. 2

by Genelin, Michael

  “The minister wants you back. Now! He thinks you are taking a vacation on Slovak funds. From what you tell me, I am beginning to believe it.”

  “We are close.”

  “To what?”

  “To finding out what is happening.”

  “Matinova, come home.”

  “Two days, three days. If I’m wrong, I will let you deduct all the expenses from my salary, including my salary.”

  “Assuming you still have a job.”

  “Take it from my pension.”

  “We don’t pay you enough pension money for you to reimburse us for the trip. So, are you coming back?”

  “All flights are booked.”

  “Police officers are not supposed to lie.”

  “I’m learning to be dishonest.”

  There was a long silence on the phone.

  “ . . . Colonel?”

  “I’m here. You are also there. Two to three days, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all the time you have, Matinova!” His voice had taken on an official tone. This was her limit.

  “Thank you, Colonel.”

  The phone went dead.

  Jana looked out over the balcony railing, thinking that her time was running out. The colonel had given her his orders. She looked down. Directly below the balcony on which Jana stood, Moira Simmons was emerging from a limousine.

  Jana walked back into the palace and over to Levitin, handing him the phone, waiting for Moira to make her grand entrance. When she appeared, there was another shock.

  Moira Simmons entered first. Lagging slightly behind, so that Jana did not see her at first, was her daughter Katka. Jeremy walked behind them.

  There was a second man, older, thick in the body, who trailed them, his eyes sweeping the room. He fixed on Levitin for a quick moment, then reached into his pocket for a cell phone, turning away to speak into it, turning back for an even briefer moment to say something to Katka, then leaving the way he’d come.

  The others continued into the room. Both women wore gowns, Jeremy a tuxedo. They were offered glasses of champagne. The three of them smiled, clinking their glasses in a toast, sipping the wine, enjoying the moment. Jeremy leaned over Katka, his arms raised in dance position, asking her for a waltz. She shook her head. He exaggerated his dancing motion. Katka held her arms out in acquiescence. The two spun onto the dance floor, leaving Moira Simmons standing alone.

  Jana watched Katka sweep around the dance floor in Jeremy’s arms, looking beautiful in her long white dress, swirled around in the dance by her obviously adoring husband, both of them caught up in the pleasure of the moment. Jana was very anxious. She desperately wanted to talk to Katka, to embrace her daughter after such a long separation. She took a half step toward them, then stopped herself, remembering the last disastrous time when they had seen each other.

  Chapter 47

  Two great events had occurred almost simultaneously: the communists had finally fallen, and Katka had finished her undergraduate studies. Katka was coming home. Before she went on for an advanced degree, she was returning home to Bratislava. Katka had flown first to Prague, then taken another plane which would arrive in Bratislava at five P.M.

  Jana was at the Bratislava airport almost an hour before time. She paced back and forth, fearful that some last-minute event, a slight mechanical problem, a storm, some terrible act of God would prevent them from embracing each other, mother and daughter finally reunited after so many years apart.

  Jana had brought flowers. Dissatisfied with the size of the bouquet, she returned to the flower shop, doubling the number of flowers, hoping that in some way they would fill a void for Katka. They were the only soft, welcoming things Jana could think of to give Katka to show her love.

  How does a mother prove to her daughter that she wishes it had been different? Forced to relinquish all those years of her daughter’s youth, forced to miss all of Katka’s emergence as a young woman, Jana had not been the mother she expected—no, wanted—to be. If those were Jana’s expectations and disappointments about herself, what were her daughter’s? Jana could never soothe them. No triumphs witnessed together; no ideals or aspirations shared between them. No dreams they had dreamed together. What did they still have for each other?

  Jana forcibly reminded herself: There was to be no sadness, no bitterness at the world for their separation and absence from each other’s lives. This would be a time of celebration. They would pick up the fragments and rebuild their relationship, together again.

  Trokan came ambling into the terminal, a huge box of chocolates in his hands.

  “I came to see our daughter return home.”

  “My daughter.” Their little ritual of claim and counterclaim was complete. No, it was not as satisfactory as it normally was. “I am very frightened,” Jana admitted.

  “Frightened? She is your daughter; she will always be your daughter. Katka knows that, so she will love you.”

  “Easy to say.” Jana glanced through the glass windows at the runway. “Still no plane.” She went back to brooding. “I could have kept her here. I didn’t. I sent Katka to America. . . .” Her voice tapered off. “Will she resent my actions? Will she feel I abandoned her?” Jana’s eyes pleaded with Trokan to tell her that she had done the right thing.

  “Children think a lot of crazy things.” Trokan shrugged, as if telling Jana that it was not within their ability to control Katka’s emotions. “What you think, here and now, is more important. I remember those times very well. You had more courage than most mothers would have had under the circumstances.”

  “Thank you, Stephan.”

  “I knew what you did at the time. As your commanding officer I ignored it; as her once-removed ‘father’ I applauded.” He smiled, a sly edge to his voice. “You took chances. You always take chances. If I had been ‘officially’ made aware of it, I would have arrested you and thrown away the key.” His belly quivered as he chuckled. “But you did just enough to make sure I was not slapped in the face with it.” He stopped laughing, nodding his approval. “You did well.”

  “You helped.”

  “Of course I helped. What are friends for? You gave me just enough to allow me to remain your friend.”

  “You saved me.”

  “You saved yourself. Maybe I just pushed you in the right direction. A little nudge here, a little nudge there. That was all that was needed. And if I lied a little to the nomenclatura, who cared? They lied enough to us.”

  The plane abruptly came into sight, landing just as quickly, taxiing down the tarmac, pulling to the front of the terminal. The airport technicians rolled the stairs to the rear of the plane for passengers to disembark.

  “Our daughter will come out of the plane and will be looking for you. Don’t you want to go onto the field to greet her?”

  “Yes, and no. I will cry.”

  “You will also cry here.”

  “I’m not allowed on the field.”

  “You have a police badge.”

  “We shouldn’t use our badges to get personal favors.”

  “Stop being sanctimonious. It’s not like you.” He hooked her arm into his. “Fortunately, I have no such qualms.”

  Trokan hauled her with him, then pulled his credential case from his jacket, flashing it at the airline employee who tried to stop them from going onto the field. As they reached the tarmac, the passengers began disembarking. Trokan pulled his arm out from beneath Jana’s elbow, lagging slightly behind her as they approached the plane. Finally, a young American woman, fresh-faced, poised, came down the stairs. It was Katka.

  When Katka got to the tarmac she immediately recognized Jana. The two of them faced each other, neither one seeming to know what to do. Then they both moved at the same time, Jana’s flowers crushed between them in their embrace. Katka was more reticent, a bit stiff, but Jana was crying, kissing Katka, laughing, then crying again. Each of them confessed that she’d missed the other. There was happiness, joy
, their words interspersed with more hugs and tears from Jana.

  Finally, Trokan moved up to the two woman. “Enough mush. I think it’s time to go inside.”

  They paid no attention, so he spoke louder.

  “I have candy for my adopted daughter.”

  “She’s my daughter,” Jana emphatically stated. “No one else’s daughter.” Katka laughed; Trokan laughed. The three of them finally moved to the terminal entrance. The conversation turned into small talk.

  “Was it a good trip?”

  “Easy.”

  “You must be tired.”

  “A little.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Too much.”

  “I can’t wait to show you Bratislava.” Katka stopped walking; the other two waited.

  “Mother, I just want to go home.”

  “Yes, home,” agreed Jana.

  The two held each other in long embrace, then walked into the terminal. Trokan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, glad no one was watching him, then followed them inside.

  Chapter 48

  Moira Simmons glanced around the room as Katka and her husband took the dance floor, immediately noticing Sasha seated on her throne as she received her subjects on the reception line. Moira reached into her purse to pull out her cell phone, dialing rapidly, her eyes swiveling around the room as she appraised events. She noted Jana and Levitin in the sweep; her expression did not alter. Her eyes remained on them as she spoke, then listened. After a moment, she put the phone back into her pocket, then approached Jana and Levitin.

  A smile appeared on her face. She seemed to be enjoying the moment.

  “Good evening, Commander Matinova.” She nodded at Levitin. “Investigator Levitin.”

  Jana nodded to her. Levitin, still mesmerized by his sister’s appearance, barely mumbled a greeting.

  “You meet the most unexpected people at the Russian Friends’ Ball. Did you come all the way to Nice just to see it?”

  “We’re hunting.” Levitin’s attention was still on the stage. Reluctantly, he focused on Moira. “I got hungry for a bit of Russia.”

  “People who have a Russian relative, even a distant make-believe relative, come to the ball.” She turned back to Jana. “They pretend that the Romanoffs were never shot by the Bolsheviks and still rule their world.”

  “What brings you here to Nice, Moira?”

  “I have a place here. That’s where I first met Jeremy and Katka, at a diplomatic party. And Carnival is a wonderful time to be in Nice. A time for fun. And any excuse to have fun is a good excuse.” Moira glanced at Levitin. “This is a very odd place to go hunting, Levitin. All the animals in this room are tame.”

  Levitin, his eyes locked on Sasha and the reception line, did not hear her. Moira followed his gaze.

  “A very beautiful woman, your sister.”

  Both Levitin and Jana were startled.

  “You know she is Levitin’s sister?” Jana spoke softly, covering her surprise. “Please tell me how.”

  “Pavel, her old boyfriend, the Czech who threw himself out of the window, once told me that Sasha had a brother who was a police officer in Russia. The way you were looking at her, and as I know her last name is the same as your last name, I put it together.” She laughed. “Maybe I should apply to a police force to become a detective.”

  “You only knew her through Pavel?”

  “Where else? When Pavel died, poor Foch and I lost track of her. I’m glad to see that she is in such good health and apparently able to take care of herself. I always used to feel that there was a childlike quality about her, that she needed to be taken care of. I think that was what Pavel responded to.”

  Jana pursued the issue. “Ms. Simmons, has the United Nations an interest in the ball, or are you hunting as well?”

  There was a quizzical half-smile on Simmons’s face. “There’s no big game to hunt here. I want to have fun.”

  “Without an escort?”

  “My escort is Russian. He had to leave. I stayed to view the people show.” She turned back to the dancers and the stage. Jana followed her eyes. She was watching Sasha, and Sasha was watching her.

  “The lady on the throne recognizes you,” Jana informed Moira.

  “We got along well when she was living with Pavel. And see how she has come up in the world, a princess dispensing grace to her subjects.”

  “Truly a princess,” Levitin agreed.

  “One would not know it from her fairly recent history,” Moira Simmons murmured, just loud enough for Levitin to hear.

  His mouth tightened, his voice took on a warning note. “She is my sister.” His look was angry. “Careful what you say.”

  “I meant no harm.” Moira finally took her eyes off Sasha, and glanced at the table where Katka and Jeremy were now seated. Katka took a quick sip of her champagne. Then Jeremy led Katka onto the dance floor again. They blended in with the other whirling dancers. “People look so graceful when they dance.”

  They watched the people gliding around the floor. Moira moved closer to Jana. “Your daughter is angry with you.”

  “ . . . Yes.”

  “You have a lovely granddaughter.”

  “ . . . I’m happy to hear that.”

  “I don’t know if I can help moderate your daughter’s feelings about you; but if you wish, ask me and I will try.”

  “It is between the two of us.”

  “As you wish.”

  The music ended for the moment, the dancers drifted off the floor. Katka and her husband were one of the last couples to leave.

  Jana was overcome by the need to talk to her daughter; the urge to bridge the gap between them welled up inside her. It was impossible to wait any longer.

  Jana barked an order at Levitin. “Stay here, please.”

  Moira Simmons was already moving toward the edge of the dance floor. Jana caught up to her in three steps. “She is my daughter. It’s time I talked to her.”

  “I would wait,” Moira advised.

  Jana paid no attention. She had gotten within ten feet of her daughter when Katka saw her. Jeremy noticed Jana at the same time and took a tentative half-step forward as if to stop her.

  “Katka, isn’t it time for us to sit together, to finally talk again?” Jana blurted out.

  Katka heard only sounds; she shut out the meaning of Jana’s words.

  “Stay away from me, Jana!”

  “Katka, I did nothing to your father. I loved him.”

  Katka’s husband stood mute, not moving a muscle.

  “You are the criminal, Jana. You are a killer!” Katka spit out.

  “Katka, just ten minutes together.”

  She tried to take her daughter’s hand. Katka pulled away. The two woman formed a brief, silent tableau, one in a rage, the other in shock. Oh, God, thought Jana. She hates me now far worse than she did before.

  Katka moved first, turning to the other people attending the ball, many of them already staring at the scene. Yelling as loud as she could, Katka forced everyone to pay attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce all of you to my mother, the murderer. To save herself, she shot and killed her husband, my father.”

  She stepped close to Jana, flushed, an avenging angel. “See her in all her glory. A killer who, by her murderous act, maimed and destroyed a little of everyone dear to her!”

  With that, she slapped Jana across the face as hard as she could. Everyone was watching. In the quiet ballroom, the sound of the blow carried to every cranny of the hall. The echo seemed to last forever.

  Chapter 49

  “It looks smaller,” Katka murmured as they entered the house she had left so many years before.

  “Everyone says that when they come home again. You were smaller; it looked larger to you then.”

  “It looks older,” Katka kept repeating, walking from room to room.

  “It needs a coat of paint,” Jana explained, following her. “The furniture should be polished.
And the rugs are worn.”

  Jana wondered if Katka thought she had failed to maintain her patrimony, had fallen down in her guardianship of the house. “Too much work in my job. You’re right. I need to do more here. I did take care of the garden in back,” Jana mentioned. She had placed small bouquets of garden flowers around the house hoping to make it cheery and welcoming. Katka paused to sniff at one of the bouquets, then passed on without comment.

  Her daughter sat in the living room. She was breathing a little unevenly. However, aside from that, she appeared to be calm.

  Odd, thought Jana, trying to examine her own emotions. She was feeling sad and happy at the same time. Jana could see the little girl inside the grown young woman, and felt tender and proud and loving and anxious, and a million other emotions. She was sure all of them were fighting for display across her face.

  Katka’s appearance, her face, her expression showed some of what Jana was feeling. Her daughter was having an inner dialogue between her past and her present, between love for the house and anger at a past that had been taken away from her. The feelings flickered across her face, brief frames from a faded film. Then they were gone.

  “Why are we bound to the house we grew up in?” Katka’s voice carried a subtext, as if to say that she didn’t feel any ties. She pulled one of the flowers from a vase on the small end table by the couch, rubbing it on her cheek as if applying rouge. “All those expectations. It’s disappointing to come back. Nothing could live up to what you want.”

  “Everything lives up to it. Here we are, Katka and Jana, mother and daughter.”

  “Is that good?” Katka asked. She did not seem to want an answer.

  “For me, it’s so good that you’re here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jana began to laugh.

  Katka murmured, “Share it, if it’s funny.”

  “You said everything looked smaller. Am I smaller?”

  “No, bigger.”

  “Fatter?” asked Jana, worried.

  “No, bigger. That’s all.”