Requiem for a Gypsy

by Michael Genelin

  “Criminals don’t make good fathers.”

  “I agree,” Em affirmed. “But he has a sister, my aunt, and she’s not a criminal. She’s going to take me in. So I’ll be staying with her.”

  Jana stared at Em. Either the girl was an incredibly adroit prevaricator, or she was telling Jana an outlandish truth that sounded like a lie.

  “What’s your aunt’s name?” Jana asked.

  “Em. I’m named after her. She doesn’t want her namesake wandering the streets, so she’s going to be my foster mother.”

  “If that’s true, which I have my doubts about, you’ll have to stay with the welfare people until you’re picked up by your father.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that. I told you, my father’s a criminal, and he couldn’t pick me up there. You’d be waiting to arrest him. Besides, once you get into the hands of the welfare people, they don’t let you go very easily. They’d take weeks or months just deciding to let me go. If you put me in, I’d have to do what I did before: escape. Then I’d be on the streets again until I could get in touch with my father.”

  “If I don’t put you with the welfare people, where are you going to stay until you meet your father?”

  “Your place, of course.”

  Jana was taken aback. “You can’t room at my place.”

  “’Course I can. It’s only for a short time.”

  “A police commander doesn’t take in stray waifs.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s against departmental rules.”

  “That’s an untruth. I’ll bet the department’s rules don’t even discuss it.” Em frowned disapprovingly at Jana. “Police commanders are not supposed to tell stories.”

  “Even police commanders have to tell ‘stories’ on occasion.” “Why on this occasion?”

  Jana couldn’t think of a reason.

  “Good. Then it’s all settled,” Em declared when Jana didn’t answer.

  “No, it’s not!”

  “I think we should both think about this,” Em announced.

  Jana gaped at the girl. The way that she talked reminded Jana eerily of her granddaughter, her daughter, and herself.

  “And I’d like to finish reading your murder book,” Em continued. “I just have a short way to go, and it’s very interesting.”

  “No!”

  “Too bad. I could have helped you.”

  Em’s tone and the set of her features had changed. They now had the look and the sound of honesty.

  “You can’t read any more of the book.” Jana thought about what the girl had said. “However, I’d like to know what you mean by ‘I could have helped you.’”

  Em’s voice took on a triumphant tone. “Okay! Let’s make a bargain, then: I tell you what I can help you with, you let me stay in your house. How about it?”

  “Not okay.”

  “It sounds like a good bargain to me.”

  “First we see what you have to tell me. Then I decide.”

  “If it’s good information, then I stay.” She waited for Jana to agree. When Jana said nothing, the girl sat up very erect in her chair. “Unless I hear you say it’s a bargain, then no words come past my lips.” She made a zipping motion in front of her mouth, then waited, getting impatient. “Say it, or that’s it!”

  Inwardly, Jana groaned, not liking what she was probably getting into. However, the offer was irresistible, particularly coming from this girl. Jana wanted to find out just what she would come up with. “Okay. If it’s good information, you stay.”

  Jana waited.

  “What?” Em asked.

  “The information,” Jana reminded her.

  “Oh,” said Em.

  Then she began to talk.

  Chapter 12

  Jana, her officers, and Em sat outside Sipo’s soup and sandwich shop for two hours before Sipo arrived. A female employee had come an hour earlier and done all the setup so that by the time Sipo got there, the place was ready to open. As soon as Sipo went inside, he hauled out a sign advertising the day’s specials. Setting it up in front of the shop, he spotted Jana and Seges walking toward the place. The man instantly darted in through the door, running through the shop and out the back door—into the huge arms of Grzner, who slapped handcuffs on him and marched him back into the store. The female employee huddled in fear in a rear corner of the shop, probably convinced that both she and Sipo were going to be murdered by the ugly-looking thug who was manhandling her employer.

  Seges, almost by reflex, helped himself to a sandwich as soon as they got into the shop, much to the disapproval of Jana, who immediately told him to throw it away and pay the listed price. Seges reluctantly placed the money on the counter, and Jana turned her attention to Sipo. The man kept his head bowed, refusing to look her in the face, knowing that nothing good was going to come of this confrontation.

  “Wouldn’t you like it if the handcuffs were removed?” Jana asked, smiling at him. “They’re painful; uncomfortable at best.” She nodded to Grzner, who removed the cuffs. “Next time you see us,” she suggested to Sipo, “don’t run. It makes things much easier, particularly for you, if you simply stand still.”

  She took a seat at the counter. “Mr. Sipo, we saw each other at the Bogan party. I had no idea we would see each other again so soon. Did you enjoy the soirée?” Jana looked him over. He was wearing a jacket edged in red piping, and yellow pants with black stripes. “Still the same dandy that you’ve always been, I see. It must have been nice for you to get out of those drab prison clothes.” She waited for him to respond. The man stood dumb, as if in shock. “I asked you a question about the party, Sipo. Did you enjoy it, at least before the shots were fired?”

  The man remained mute.

  Jana nodded at Grzner. Not too gently, he slipped the handcuffs back on Sipo, whose body jerked as if he were a steer being branded. For a moment he strained against the cuffs. Then his shoulder slumped as he realized there was no way to escape.

  “You see, we agree, Sipo. It’s much better to be free of those things than to be in them. So, once more, how did you like the festivities before the gunmen started shooting?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with the shooting.” His words came out in a hoarse murmur.

  “Louder, please. I can’t hear you.”

  “I wasn’t involved in the killing.” His voice was louder, his posture jerking erect. “I was frightened, just like everyone else. It’s not good to be in a shooting gallery.”

  Jana again nodded at Grzner, and the investigator unlocked the cuffs, removing them once more. Sipo rubbed his wrists and hands as if he were washing them.

  “Nicer, isn’t it, without the manacles? I’m sure you felt that way when you were released from prison: surpassingly better to be out than in. I would think you wouldn’t want to see the inside of that grim place for a second time. Or is it a third time? I also have to believe you’d never want handcuffs on again. Besides, the color of the metal doesn’t exactly go with the clothes you like to wear, and you are obviously a man who cares about how he looks. I think it all comes down to self-esteem, don’t you? Chains and prison do bad things for one’s self-esteem?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, tell me: who sent you the invitation to the party?” “I wasn’t sent an invitation. I knew it was happening, so I went.”

  “You crashed the party?”

  “You could call it that.”

  “You did, or didn’t, arrive uninvited?”

  Sipo hesitated. “Uninvited.”

  “How’d you get in without an invitation?”

  “I mixed with a group of people walking in. Everybody around me flashed their invitations at the doormen and just kept walking. I went with them. Easy.” He gave Jana a self-satisfied look. “Anyone can get into large parties. The bigger they are, the easier it is to get in.”

  “Did you say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Bogan?”

  He thought about the question for a full minute. Grzner grew impatient.
>
  “Manacles back on?” he asked Jana.

  Grzner was good at the game, perhaps because he liked it too much. This was also Jana’s cue to up the threat level. “Sipo, the investigator holding on to you wants to put you back in handcuffs. If he puts them on again, I’m going to suggest that Investigator Grzner make them one notch tighter this time. I think they were too loose before. If they’re loose, it’s an incentive for you to attempt an escape, and we would be dreadfully ashamed to face our fellow officers if you got away. Even more important, Investigator Grzner won’t take the cuffs off again if he puts them on this time. Too much work. He has to keep up his strength. So, once more, did you say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Bogan that night?” Jana waited for a moment. “Perhaps you wished him a joyful name day, clapped him on the back? Told him that you hoped he’d have many more of the same? Answer me!”

  Sipo was breathing heavily, shuffling his feet, wishing he were anyplace but there. He tried to lie, but the lie was scrawled all over his face.

  “I thought, as a guest at his party, the least I should do was to wish him well.”

  “Even as a guest without an invitation?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did he say in reply?”

  Sipo shuffled his feet. “‘Thank you.’”

  “And his wife, did she also thank you?”

  “… Yes.”

  Jana leaned close to Sipo. “Not exactly the words that you exchanged with Mr. and Mrs. Bogan, were they?” she said sarcastically. She gave him an artificial, disappointed sigh. “You went to either ask him something specific or tell him something specific, right?”

  “Yes,” Sipo admitted.

  “Good man, Sipo.” Jana patted him on the shoulder for encouragement. “See what we’re doing here? Just a simple, straightforward conversation that can only benefit both of us. So, what did you two say to each other?”

  “I had nothing to ask him.”

  “I know, Sipo. You had information you wanted to give him.”

  He stared at her, wondering how she knew. Jana stared back, letting him think about it.

  “Handcuffs?” asked Grzner.

  “No, thank you, Grzner.” Jana kept up her friendly attitude, once more patting Sipo on the shoulder, urging him on. “Tell me what you told Mr. Bogan, Sipo.”

  “This and that. We just chatted.”

  “Chatted?” There was a limit to Jana’s patience, and getting Sipo in the right frame of mind to talk was beginning to wear on her. She raised the volume of her voice a notch. “We are not talking about chitchat, Sipo! What did you tell him?”

  “I was trying to sell him a small item.”

  “Goods?”

  “Not goods.”

  “I’m losing patience, Sipo. If not goods, then what? Now, Sipo! I want it now! No more time!”

  Grzner loudly opened and closed the cuffs, adding incentive for Sipo to talk. The words began to come out of Sipo’s mouth in a jerky fashion, seeming to stagger through the air.

  “I heard … well, you know how you hear … that the man … Bogan, that is … was marked… . Yeah, marked. He was going … to be … you know, stabbed or shot, I don’t know what… . Why, I don’t know… . Anyway, I told him.”

  “Did you tell him when this was going to happen?”

  “Soon, soon, soon. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I told him, you know… . Well, business is slow here in my shop. Business is business. He wanted to know more. I didn’t know any more. I asked for a fee, you understand. I’m saving the man’s life. You figure, well, you’d figure he … he should give me a few euros. I … I even told him I’d try, try hard, to find out more. The son of a bitch wouldn’t give me a cent. Nothing.” Sipo reflected on his not being given any money for his effort. “I’m glad he got shot.”

  “And Klara, his missus?”

  “She told me to get away from her husband. That’s all. She didn’t even thank me.”

  “Who gave you the information?”

  “It was all street talk.”

  “It didn’t come with the wind, Sipo. There were people out there. Name just one person who told you. Names, Sipo.”

  “There was a guy named Akso. He’s also got a friend, Balder. Balder’s a German. It was just a normal conversation between us.”

  “Balder, first name Kabil. One-point-eight or so meters tall, kind of a narrow face?” Grzner asked.

  “Yeah, him.” Sipo said. “He does cars. Expensive ones. From Germany to Albania or Croatia.”

  “I know the man,” Grzner told Jana. “Stolen autos. He specializes in top of the line—Mercedes, BMWs—running them to the Balkans where their numbers are altered and the cars are fixed up with clean papers. He’s rumored to be a good safe man, too.”

  Jana immediately thought about the safe that had been opened in the Bogan home in Bratislava. They’d have to talk to Balder if they could find him.

  Jana got on her cell and called Jonas. “Bring her to the window and have her look inside. The man is here.” Jana hung up and turned back to Sipo. “Look straight ahead, at the wall behind the counter. If you move your head or try to see who’s standing outside the front window, Investigator Grzner will snap your head off. Do you understand?”

  Sipo nodded, facing the wall. Grzner ran a heavy hand over the man’s hair and kissed him lightly on the neck, signaling that if he even so much as moved, Grzner would take great pleasure in using force on him.

  Jana watched Jonas bring Em to the window and point out Sipo inside. Em stared at him through the window, then nodded to Jana, indicating that she knew him. Jana waved to Jonas, and the detective led Em away from the window and out of sight.

  “All right, Sipo. You can relax.”

  Grzner stepped away from Sipo, looking somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t been allowed to hammer him into the ground. As soon as Grzner moved back, Sipo became visibly less tense.

  “The witness identified you, Sipo. The witness told us that you were at a meeting where you were given the information. I’m happy that you’ve been honest about receiving the information. Unfortunately, the witness also said there were two other men at the meeting whom you failed to tell me about. Who were the other men, Sipo?” “I don’t know any other men.” There was suddenly a dry, hoarse quality to Sipo’s voice, and he began to shake. “Just the two of them and me. I swear, just them.”

  “A lie, Sipo.”

  The change that had come over Sipo was dramatic. He had the look of sheer fear in him. “I’d give them up. You know me. I want to avoid trouble. Everyone knows that.”

  In mounting waves, the shakes overtook Sipo, his body swaying, his legs looking like they were about to give way. “No one else. Just us. No one else.”

  The man was convulsing so violently that he was losing his balance.

  “Okay … there was another … the Turk.”

  “Help him, Grzner,” Jana said.

  Grzner put a hand to Sipo’s arm, steadying him.

  “Where can we find this man, Sipo?”

  Even Seges could see that Sipo was collapsing, and he moved in to help Grzner hold him up.

  “Tell us the man’s real name, Sipo,” Jana pressed.

  “That’s all I know. ‘The Turk.’”

  “Good, Sipo.” She patted him on the shoulder, trying to calm him. “So, what were they all talking about?”

  “They argued.”

  “A falling-out?”

  “It seemed to be.”

  “About what, Sipo?”

  “The others were going to do something, and he opposed it.”

  Sipo suddenly looked stricken, as if he had said too much.

  “Maybe they were just trying to patch up their grievances? Is that right, Sipo?”

  Sipo had taken on the look of a pet dog that had eaten the family dinner and was now awaiting punishment. “Everyone fights once in a while.”

  “What were they fighting about, Sipo?”

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p; “I stayed outside the door. I couldn’t make out the words. I didn’t want to know.”

  “They were shouting?”

  “A couple of them. The Turk was real loud. Insulting.”

  “Good, Sipo.”

  “He was stupid to get insulting. You don’t get insulting to him.”

  “To whom, Sipo? Whom did he get insulting to?”

  He had slipped again. Sipo tried to focus on anything but Jana. Jana started to close the circle that she’d been building around him.

  “In those kinds of meetings, it’s stupid to get angry. Except, once in a while, everybody gets angry.” She smiled encouragingly. “These men were very angry at each other, eh? They couldn’t reach an agreement. There was a big falling-out. They were now enemies. That’s why you were sent to warn Bogan. Right, Sipo?” She snapped her fingers as if she had just understood something. “So, one of the men sent you to warn Bogan. Right, Sipo? After the meeting failed. And it did fail, right?” Jana didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s see, who could that person have been, the one who sent you to warn Bogan? Not the Turk, or Akso, or Balder?” She checked Sipo’s face. It was none of the men she had just named. “Obviously, the men you’ve named were on the same side. Otherwise one of them would have warned Bogan. That’s why you said ‘they,’ meaning the three of them, were on the same side and were going to do something, and he opposed it. So, it had to be this other man who sent you to Bogan, the one you haven’t named. Correct, Sipo?”

  Sipo’s fear had become all-consuming, an earthquake of tremors racking his body.

  “The last man, Sipo?” Jana asked. “The final man at the meeting. Give me his name, Sipo.”

  Sipo managed to shake his head no. His mouth was trying to make sounds, but he was unable to get any words out. Abruptly, the man’s bladder gave way, urine staining his pants. All three of the police officers took an involuntary step back from the frightened man, not wanting to be splattered.

  Sipo looked down at his pants, aghast at what had happened.

  As far as Sipo was concerned, the fifth man who had been there when he got the information on Bogan was much more terrifying than Jana or her officers could ever be. Jana was sure of one thing: just thinking of the man was so terrifying to Sipo that he would surely never name him.