A Blind Eye: Book 1 in the Adam Kaminski Mystery Series

by Jane Gorman

  “No. But I was sure of it. He had never offered me these things before. And he knew very well what I was working on. He was trying to stop me from writing this story. I am sure. So I started taking my work home with me. I was afraid to leave any of my notes in the offices where he would have access to them. That night, they were stolen.”

  The men stopped in front of a store window just as the first flakes of snow started to fall. Elegant leather bags, belts and purses were laid out in the window, brightly lit from inside. A woman in a long fur coat passed them as she entered the store and Adam could hear the clerk greet her by name as the door closed.

  “So what about your story? You must have been close to the truth. Somebody was willing to break into your apartment, to physically attack you, to prevent you from writing it. What did you find out?”

  “Not as much as I think my attackers believe,” Łukasz said sadly, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “I was tracing a trail of corruption within the legislature. That’s as much as I can remember. I know I started by investigating the people who worked most closely with Basia, then spread out further. Following the network. Following the power… and the money.”

  They were still examining the fine leather goods in the window when the fur-robed woman left the store, once again brushing past them, this time carrying a large paper bag.

  “It was the money that finally told me something, I remember that. The money.” Łukasz paused. “But what? And who? And why was my sweet Basia killed?” Łukasz’s voice cracked and he paused.

  “Maybe she found something,” Adam suggested. “Maybe she planned to expose the criminal. To go to the police.”

  “Yes, Basia would do that,” Łukasz agreed. “If she found any evidence of corruption, I am sure.”

  Adam shivered as a few flakes of snow found their way under his collar. Łukasz glanced at him then turned to continue their walk. Warm lights glimmered on the sidewalk ahead of them, and when a heavy wooden door to their left opened, Adam caught the rich, sweet scent of beetroot and dill, along with the more familiar smell of grilled steak. A handsome couple stepped out of the restaurant. Glancing in, Adam saw that thick velvet curtains were pulled closed beyond the door, ensuring the winter’s chill wouldn’t enter the restaurant along with the customers.

  Only a few yards farther along the sidewalk, a glass-fronted store bore the sign of a Bar Mleczny, or milk bar. Łukasz smiled sadly.

  “Basia took me out to eat here, to the Baru Mlecznego,” he explained. “When she first got her job. She couldn’t afford the fancy restaurants in this area, but the Bar Mleczny was always affordable. Anyone who needs it can always get a warm meal of traditional Polish food here.”

  Adam glanced in as they passed. The place was mostly empty. A few plastic tables were occupied by elderly gentlemen, widowers perhaps seeking a warm meal they didn’t have to cook themselves. A pair of students lined up at the bar ordering their food, served to them on plastic trays they could carry to a nearby table.

  Milk bars were a holdover from the previous era and they were slowly disappearing. Supported through government subsidies, these bars managed to serve kielbasa, sauerkraut, barszcz at minimal prices. The same foods being served in the expensive restaurant up the street, Adam was sure, but at a fraction of the cost. And without the decor and service.

  The location of this milk bar seemed odd, tucked away between five-star restaurants and high-end stores. Perhaps this was where they were most needed, by those who could least afford the cost of living in this neighborhood. Pensioners, students, and young men and women just starting out on their careers. Like Basia.

  Adam turned his attention back to his companion. “I hope you understand, Łukasz, there are great risks involved in what you’re doing. I know you need to find out who killed Basia. But exposing the corrupt and the criminal means putting yourself in danger. Someone who has killed once is more likely to kill again. Hell, he already left you for dead once.”

  “That was his mistake, then, not to finish the job. I must find whoever killed my daughter. I have no choice. I am alone now, you understand.” Łukasz looked at Adam as he explained. “Basia’s mother, my wife, died a few years ago. Natural causes, I assure you.” Łukasz spoke over Adam’s condolences. “But she is gone. Now Basia is gone.” He paused, shaking his head. “I must find the man responsible.”

  “If it’s corruption that you’re following, tell me, how common is that in your system? I’m sorry,” Adam explained as Łukasz raised his eyebrows, “I don’t mean anything by that. You know how politics are. In the States, there are politicians who are willing to sell their vote and that isn’t even considered corruption anymore. There are others who are caught with thousands of dollars in their freezers… What is Poland like right now?”

  “Ah yes, there is corruption, no question. There are men and women who see capitalism as an opportunity to make some easy money. There are leaders who have held on from the previous regime and who will do anything to keep their power, including bending some rules. There are some who have ties to Russia and the mafia there. They are involved not just in corruption, but in violent criminal activity. Yes, it is all around us.”

  Adam thought about this, then asked, “And what about lustration? I’ve heard a little bit about it. Has that caused problems? Would that lead anyone to murder?”

  “Only the honest man,” Łukasz chuckled. “For those who are honest, lustration means admitting your past, admitting your mistakes perhaps. But once it is admitted, there is no punishment. So nothing to kill for. For those who are dishonest, well, they can lie about their past. They can cover it up so easily. Records from the previous regime are not easy to access. They are considered classified. So if someone has lied, chances are he or she will face no penalty for that. So no reason to kill, you see.”

  “You never know what will drive a person to murder. Sometimes the cause is big, maybe even just. Saving a loved one, for example. Or seeking revenge.” Adam looked at Łukasz out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve known people who killed for fifty dollars. Or less.” He laughed gently under his breath, more a sharp exhale than anything else. “People never fail to surprise me.”

  Łukasz glanced at his watch, then turned to Adam. “It is getting late and we have been talking for some time. Your group will be missing you. You have been most kind, walking with me and listening to my story. And now I have a further favor to ask of you.”

  “Of course,” Adam responded quickly, “what do you need?”

  “I need your help. You are a policeman, no?”

  “I have no authority here in Poland. Here I’m just a civilian, like you.”

  “Of course, I understand this. But the police are not able — or not willing — to help me. Someone not connected with the police is exactly what I need. Someone with the ability to help me figure this out. To find out who killed my Basia.”

  Adam breathed in deeply, trying to figure out what his response should be. He was in Poland for a reason and he had responsibilities. He couldn’t just abandon the Philadelphia International Council. Or forget Captain Farrow’s demand that he make the PPD look good. On the other hand, Łukasz was family. And Adam had been raised always to put family first. Wouldn’t his grandparents and their neighbors want him to stick with Łukasz, to help him find the truth?

  Finally he nodded. “Maybe I can help. I’m not sure how much I can do, though,” he cautioned. “I don’t speak the language, I don’t know the people.”

  “Ah, but you do know people, Adam, don’t you? You are used to telling who is lying and who is telling the truth. And you search for the truth, just as I do.”

  Łukasz looked up and down the street. His eye fell on a small bar tucked down a narrow alley that ran between two large stores.

  “We will meet here later, after you have had a chance to catch up with your group, attend whatever dinner event is planned for you.”

  “Okay,” Adam agreed, “I can meet you later. Over there
?” He gestured toward the bar that had caught Łukasz’s attention.

  “Yes, at Pod Jaszczury. Under the Dragon. Yes, we will meet here, in the dragon’s lair, to discuss the beast itself.”

  17

  Adam spun around at the sound before he realized it was just a couple of university students calling to each other down the alley. He squared his shoulders and shook his head at his own nervousness.

  After the lights and gaiety of the group’s dinner that evening, the alley seemed particularly gloomy. Even more so given what he now knew about Łukasz. And Basia.

  Orange light from lamps along Ulica Nowy Świat barely reached down this narrow path and the cobblestones flowed ahead of him like a dark and slippery river. But rowdy sounds from the bar just ahead on his right seeped out into the night as the door opened to admit a lone figure, presumably seeking warmth and comfort from the cold outside.

  Adam followed the stranger into the small space, coming almost immediately into contact with the blackened oak bar that wrapped around one end of the place in a horseshoe curve. A few gray figures huddled around its counter in clumps but most of the noise came from the cluster of tables near the back of the room.

  Students had gathered there, loudly sharing beer and conversation with the occasional spilled drink and accompanying laughter. The smell of beer that lingered in the air hinted at many nights of spilled drinks, not all of them completely cleaned away.

  Adam turned back to what he assumed were the locals at the bar and soon spotted Łukasz at the far end.

  “Interesting crowd here,” Adam commented as a greeting. “Come here often?”

  Łukasz looked around him and grunted. “It has changed over the years. There was a time when students were here to study, they had no money for entertainment. Or drink. But now” — Łukasz waved his hand in the direction of the tables where another peal of laughter had just broken out, combined with some angry shouting — “Now the students come to enjoy themselves. The university is very close, you know, just a few blocks away.”

  “Yeah, right next to our hotel. It’s certainly convenient for me, meeting here.” His eyes met those of the bartender and he said to Łukasz, “What do you recommend?”

  Łukasz raised his glass toward the bartender and tapped the edge with two fingers. The bartender moved to his taps to pull two more of the same.

  Settling onto his stool, Adam took a slow drink from his glass while looking more closely at the people around him. Including Łukasz.

  The man’s face was grim, even while he drank. He leaned heavily against the bar on his left arm, and after placing his glass down, he ran his right hand along his face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion and fear visible there.

  The bitter tang of Adam’s beer brought to mind the winterized wheat fields he’d seen from the train to and from Toruń and left him with a feeling of wanting something more, though he wasn’t sure what. He never found beer satisfying, not the taste, not the way it left him feeling. He checked out the bottles behind the bar as he drank, hoping to see a good whiskey or two, but there was none.

  Adam had considered his options carefully before coming out this evening. He knew the first tool a policeman had to use was information, so he’d gathered what he could, from the person he trusted most. He’d called Pete.

  * * *

  “Hey, Kaminski. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. How are things in Poland?” Pete’s words came quickly, as they always did, not slowed at all by the thousands of miles between them. Adam could hear the sounds of the precinct in the background, Pete still at his desk.

  “Polish,” Adam responded. “Kind of what you’d expect, but a little different.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the description, it’s like I’m there,” his partner responded with sarcasm. Again, as he usually did.

  Adam smiled, glad to hear Pete’s familiar voice. His smile faded when Pete continued, “Hey, Julia called me yesterday.”

  “Why’s my little sister calling you? Is there something going on between you I should know about?”

  “Calm down, Kaminski, don’t get your panties in a twist. She needed a little help, that’s all. I guess with you out of the country she turned to the next best thing.”

  “Hmph.” Adam tried to stifle his laugh. “She turned to you because she knew she’d get another lecture from our dad if she asked my parents for more money. She’s got a show coming up, she told me before I left. And with the wedding shoots she picks up sometimes, I thought she’d be okay.” He tried to ignore the guilt he felt for not leaving some money with Julia before he left. “Is she okay, though?”

  “She is now, buddy —”

  “Shit, Pete, you shouldn’t have.” Adam cut him off mid-sentence.

  “Don’t worry about it, partner. I just loaned her a few bucks, that’s all. She says she’s got a job coming up this weekend, she just needed some help to get through the next few days. It’s nothing.”

  “I’ll pay you back as soon as I’m home. I promise.” Adam tried to put the thought of his sister hitting his colleagues up for money out of his mind. “How’s everything else? Is Luis cooling his heels waiting for me?”

  “He is. The judge granted the continuance.” Adam could hear the grin in Pete’s voice as he filled Adam in on the status of a recent arrest, one of the many responsibilities waiting for him back at home. “You’re doing a good thing there, Adam, don’t worry. You’ll get your chance to testify when you get home. But you’re paying for a long-distance call to check up on that slime? Things must be more boring over there than you expected. I thought you said Polish women were known for their beauty. Why aren’t you out there sweeping one off her feet?”

  “Maybe later. I called because I have a question for you. I need you to look someone up for me. Łukasz Kaminski.”

  “Woocash?” Pete sounded out the name. “What is that, some kind of lottery?”

  “It’s a name.” Adam spelled it out for Pete. “Take a quick look and tell me what comes up when you run it.”

  “Okay.” Adam could hear Pete typing in the background, entering Łukasz’s name and nationality into the system, seeing what popped out. “What else can you give me besides his name?”

  “He lives in Warsaw, he’s a journalist.” Adam paused, “And he may be the grandson of Jan Kaminski.”

  A few minutes going through the newspapers provided by the hotel had verified to Adam’s satisfaction that Łukasz Kaminski was a successful journalist. But was he who he claimed to be?

  “Are you using police resources, using me, to draw your family tree, Kaminski?”

  Pete asked the question lightly, but Adam knew him well enough to know he was serious. Pete was a good man, a great partner. And part of his greatness came from the fact he took his job seriously. He wouldn’t steal a pen that had been paid for by the people’s tax money. Let alone use the police database to track down a long-lost cousin.

  “It’s not personal, Pete. Well, it is, in a way, I guess. He asked me for help. Looking into a death. A suspicious death.”

  “That would be Basia, his daughter?” Pete’s fingers had stopped typing, and Adam figured he was reading now.

  “Is that right? Is Basia his daughter? And Jan his grandfather?”

  “Jan Kaminski, cousin to Witold, who is grandfather to our beloved Adam. Kaminski, he is your cousin. What’s going on over there?”

  “He told me about Basia, Pete,” Adam explained. “He’s crushed and he wants me to help find out what really happened to her.”

  “Not to be crass, but it looks from this like what really happened to her was she jumped into a freezing river in the middle of Warsaw and drowned. Gruesome, but not criminal. What else do you hope to find?”

  “I’m not sure.” Adam considered the question, winding the phone cord absentmindedly in his hand. “Łukasz is convinced she was murdered. I guess I could just talk to him, maybe find out a bit more about Basia.”

  “He started his career wit
h crime reporting…” Pete’s voice faded out as he read silently to himself for a few seconds. “He may be seeing crime where there isn’t any, falling back on things he knows. Trying to find a reason. Trying to find someone to blame.”

  “Even if I can just help him accept her death, that would be better, wouldn’t it? I can’t let him go on pursuing this obsession. At least not alone.”

  “He’s tilting at windmills, Kaminski. Don’t get caught up with him.” Pete’s warning was gentle but firm. “I know you, and you always want to help people. The captain keeps going on about how he expects you to do something great over there. You know, impress our city leaders enough they’re willing to up our budget next year. Don’t let him down.” Pete paused, then added in a quiet voice, “And don’t get involved in something without getting help. You’re not the police right now, remember that. If you need something investigated, call the cops. We all need help sometimes.”

  “I will, Pete. Thanks. I’ll just ask a few questions first, see what crops up. There are still a few more things I need to find out before I even know where to start.”

  Adam used the next few minutes to fill Pete in on the other members of the team from Philly, as well as some of the Polish personalities they had already encountered.

  “I want to start by finding out as much as I can about the people who worked with Basia,” he concluded. “It’s as good a place to start as any. So any details you can find will be a great help.”

  “I’ll see what I can come up with on this end. Though if I were you, I’d be asking more questions about those lovely Polish ladies.”

  Adam laughed and thanked his partner before hanging up the phone. So Łukasz’s story checked out. At least that was a start. But there was a lot more he didn’t know and Łukasz was the only person who could fill him in.

  * * *

  Adam put his empty glass back on the bar, gestured to the bartender for another round, and turned to Łukasz. “So what else is there? What didn’t you tell me earlier today? And how do you think I can help?”