A Second Death

by Graham Brack

  Mucha looked meaningfully at Slonský. ‘I do,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ Slonský agreed, ‘I think I do too. They thought the parents staged it.’

  ‘What?’ chorused Navrátil and Peiperová.

  ‘They didn’t believe she’d really been abducted. There is a sentence in there that Mrs Dlasková had complained about the superintendent’s attitude to the children and that she didn’t exercise enough care. I think the police thought they staged this to make the nursery look bad.’

  ‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’ asked Navrátil.

  ‘I’m not saying it’s sensible, just that, for whatever reason, the police jumped to that conclusion.’

  ‘But surely when the child didn’t reappear that must have shaken their complacency?’ Peiperová insisted.

  ‘Maybe they thought she’d died in an accident, or of shock at being snatched. They seem to have spent some time trying to assess whether Mrs Dlasková’s distress was just clever acting. They comment that the father just went back to work and wouldn’t talk about it, which didn’t seem natural to them.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Peiperová, ‘but is there an approved way parents are supposed to react to having their daughter kidnapped?’

  Slonský took a bite of pastry before answering. ‘I hope we’d do it differently. They don’t seem to have had a senior woman officer at Ústí, but that shouldn’t surprise us, because we’d have trouble rustling one up here. The sooner you get yourself promoted to Lieutenant the better off we’ll all be, lass. Without a woman’s viewpoint, they jumped to a conclusion that was probably wrong but they tested any evidence they had against that incorrect theory. I suspect what we’ll need to do is to try to tease a theory out of whatever evidence the statements give us, but I have to admit I don’t see anything in them to give me much hope at first glance. Anyway, it’s plain where we have to start. We have to tell the parents we’ve found Viktorie, but unfortunately not in the way they’d want.’ He pushed his chair back and stood wearily. ‘Are you busy, Peiperová? It would be good to take a woman officer.’

  ‘The Colonel’s in his office, sir. I could ask.’

  ‘Better if I ask. We don’t want to give the impression you’re itching to get out and about.’

  Colonel Urban responded to the knock with his usual brisk “Come!”, then ‘Good morning, Slonský.’

  ‘Good morning, sir. Nice to see you able to spend some time here. All those meetings must be tedious by now.’

  ‘No, they were tedious from day one. What can I do for you?’

  Slonský outlined the case to his superior.

  ‘I see. And no doubt you want Peiperová back.’

  ‘Only for the purpose of being present while I break the news to the parents, sir. In time, of course…’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Urban responded testily. ‘You’ll get her back at the end of the year like I promised.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I just wanted to check nothing had changed.’

  ‘You mean because I’m still here?’

  ‘Well, yes, sir. We’re all surprised that you haven’t already been given the job, sir. You’re clearly the outstanding candidate.’

  ‘Thank you, Slonský. No doubt the Minister has his reasons, but I’m hanged if I know what they are.’

  Slonský had never been one for letting his brain curb his tongue. ‘Colonel Dostál, sir.’

  The look on Urban’s face clearly demonstrated that this was news to him. ‘Dostál? He’s abroad somewhere.’

  ‘His tour is up soon, sir, and my sources tell me he wants to come back to Prague. Plainly there are very few vacancies at his rank, so perhaps Dr Pilik is holding this one open with a view to giving it to Dostál.’

  ‘Dostál! Over my dead body! I’d resign.’

  ‘I think a number of your colleagues feel the same way, sir.’

  ‘I’d no sooner put Dostál in charge than I would Dvorník. They’re birds of a feather, Slonský.’

  ‘So I understand, sir.’

  Lieutenant Dvorník, formerly Slonský’s colleague and now his subordinate, was a gun fiend, far too ready to resort to firepower and possessor of a personal home armoury that would not have disgraced a decent-sized hunting lodge.

  ‘How do we stop him, Slonský?’

  ‘Perhaps if you and your colleagues made your views clear to the Minister, sir…’

  ‘That would be counter-productive. He’d appoint him just to prove he wasn’t going to be leant on.’

  ‘Then we need to boost your popularity, sir. We have to excite sympathy for your candidacy.’

  ‘And how do we do that?’

  Slonský thought furiously, and an idea came to him. ‘Have you ever thought of being shot, sir? Officers who are shot on duty always excite great public sympathy.’

  ‘Do you see a possible flaw in that plan, Slonský?’

  ‘Not seriously shot, sir. Not fatally. Just … winged a bit.’

  ‘Winged?’

  ‘Flesh wound. Top of the thigh is good. Big muscle, bleeds a lot, not a lot of chance of hitting anything important underneath. It would make for dramatic pictures.’

  ‘And who do you propose to entrust with the job of shooting me? You can’t just “arrange” with criminals to be shot.’

  ‘Dvorník could do it! He’s a crack shot. Hitting a stationary target at fifty metres would be a doddle for him. He can shoot the conkers off a running squirrel at that distance.’

  ‘Don’t I recall that Lieutenant Dvorník shot the wife of a suspect by mistake during an arrest a while back?’

  ‘Ah, yes, technically. But he shot the suspect too. Sedláček just failed to stop the bullet, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t think you can blame the person who has been shot for “failing to stop the bullet”, Slonský.’

  ‘And his wife made a full recovery. Eventually.’

  ‘If you overlook the hole in her shoulder blade.’

  ‘He was going to cut her throat, sir. I’m sure if you ask her she’d say she got off lightly.’

  ‘Enough of this tomfoolery, Slonský. I am not going to get myself shot just to get sympathy.’

  ‘How about being shot at, rather than shot? You know, a close miss.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, it was just an idea.’

  ‘And not your best. Take Peiperová with my blessing. I can manage without her for the rest of the day, But I want her back in one piece, so I hope you have no plans to let Dvorník use her for target practice too?’

  ‘Certainly not, sir.’

  ‘And if you do have any better ideas, I’ll be pleased to hear of them, Slonský. I appreciate your loyalty and effort.’

  ‘I’ll just get on with trying to solve this crime, sir, and hope something turns up on the other front.’

  When Slonský returned to his office he was aware of a dark and sinister presence. It was standing in the middle of the room avoiding all contact with any germ-ridden surfaces.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ said Slonský. ‘Beaming down from upstairs. I must renew the garlic on the door frame.’

  ‘Very droll,’ said the head of the Fraud Squad, Major Klinger. ‘I find myself in the unusual position of wanting a favour from you, rather than the other way round for once, so as the supplicant I have come to you.’

  Opinion was divided as to how Klinger got to work on the floor above, since nobody ever saw him on the stairs, nor did he usually come down during the day, preferring his highly controlled surroundings. He had his own coffee machine and his personal cups, and kept his office spotless by liberal use of antiseptic wipes.

  Slonský invited him to sit, which Klinger did once he had brushed the seat with his handkerchief.

  ‘You want something,’ Slonský stated boldly.

  ‘You will be aware, because you keep reminding me unkindly, that my former assistant Kobr was jailed for three years for corrupt practices.’

  ‘Oh, yes, that does ring a bell. I
seem to remember the headline in the newspaper: “Fraud Officer jailed for Fraud”.’

  ‘Well, his sentence ends this week and he will have to pick up his life. The snag is that although he was convicted we never found the money.’

  ‘Didn’t he trust banks?’

  ‘I think even an amateur like Kobr realised that banking stolen money might be problematical. The thing is that now that he is out he’ll need some of that to live on until he can get a job.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We’d like him followed to see where he goes to get it.’

  ‘Well, you’re a police officer and it’s a fraud case.’

  ‘Indeed it is, but you will be aware that there are only two of us in the Fraud Squad, so we cannot provide the cover needed. Besides which, he knows both of us by sight. I hoped that you might be able to help out.’

  ‘I would love to, if I had unlimited officers, but there are only four of us, and it takes at least three to follow a man round the clock. Plus we’ve got a murder on.’

  ‘Only four?’

  ‘Lukas retired and Peiperová has been seconded to the Director of Criminal Police. Doležal and Rada have been sent to Pardubice. That leaves four. And Human Resources have been slow to approve the advertising of the vacancies. I’ve only just got permission to advertise two officer jobs.’

  Klinger stood. ‘You have my sympathy. I haven’t been permitted to replace Kobr either.’

  Slonský experienced an unusual feeling. He was feeling sorry for Klinger. ‘I can’t follow him, but we can make some spot checks on him. And if we catch him with unexplained money on him we can invite him to spend a night in the guest wing here while we obtain an explanation. Just let us know when he’s being released.’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon, it seems.’

  ‘Then I’ll send Navrátil to offer him a lift home. That should remind him that his old colleagues haven’t forgotten him.’

  ‘Believe me, after the grief I had dumped on me from above there is absolutely no danger of that,’ answered Klinger bitterly.

  Slonský and Peiperová drove north-west out of Prague along highway 7; or, more accurately, Peiperová drove while Slonský took the opportunity to catch up on his sleep.

  ‘It’s a mark of my trust in your driving that I’m prepared to close my eyes and catch forty winks,’ he explained, ‘confident that you won’t kill me in my sleep by driving into the back of a truck. I don’t sleep with just anyone, you know.’ Realising that this last sentence was a little ambiguous, he felt the need to expand a bit. ‘And I mean sleep. As in zzzz.’

  ‘I understood that, sir.’

  ‘Good. Didn’t want any misunderstanding. Now, if you can point the car in the general direction of Most we have to turn right to get to Bilina where Mrs Dlasková lives now. Put your foot down, lass, and we’ll make it in time for a late lunch.’

  They drove in silence, apart from Slonský’s irregular snoring, until Peiperová turned off and pulled up by the side of the road to get the exact address.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I’m not asleep. Just resting my eyes.’

  ‘So who was snoring, then?’

  ‘It wasn’t me, because I wasn’t asleep, so it must have been you. I’ve warned you before about cat-napping at the wheel.’

  ‘Have you got the address, sir?’

  ‘Address? What address?’

  ‘Mrs Dlasková’s house.’

  ‘It’s on the photocopy of the ID card application Mucha gave us.’

  ‘Yes, sir, but have you got it?’

  Slonský patted his pockets. ‘I thought I gave it to you.’

  With anyone else Peiperová would have offered some judgemental comment about the fact that she had just driven eighty kilometres in the belief that the person beside her knew where they were going.

  ‘No problem,’ said Slonský. ‘I’ll ring Mucha and he can tell us.’

  Mucha obliged with both addresses, assuming that if Slonský had left one behind he would undoubtedly have forgotten the other too.

  ‘Ah, no,’ said Slonský, ‘because I copied Mr Dlask’s into my notebook. Here it is … right under Mrs Dlasková’s.’

  Peiperová could not prevent the escape of a deep sigh.

  ‘It’s because I’m short of calories,’ Slonský explained. ‘Let’s grab something at the first bakery you see.’

  Mrs Dlasková answered the door. She was a slight woman in her mid-thirties, though she looked older. Slonský offered his identification and asked if they could come inside. Mrs Dlasková nodded. She seemed very nervous, as if she thought that some great crime of hers may have been uncovered.

  ‘This is very difficult,’ Slonský began. ‘I’m afraid I have to bring you some bad news. We have found the body of your daughter Viktorie.’

  Mrs Dlasková’s covered her face with her hands and emitted a horrible, intense low groan before erupting into deep, urgent sobs. Peiperová wrapped her in an arm and held her tightly for a while. This was the part of the job that Slonský hated most, largely because he knew he was no good at it. There was, simply, nothing he could do that would make a bereaved mother feel any better, and he knew it. Maybe he could learn something from Peiperová who was holding the back of Mrs Dlasková’s head, partly so that the grieving woman could not see that she was crying herself; and seeing Peiperová cry was threatening to unman Slonský. He decided all he could do was carry on as usual.

  ‘Would you like to see her?’ he asked.

  Mrs Dlasková opened her eyes wide. ‘I’m not sure … after so long…’

  Slonský could have kicked himself. ‘I should have told you that she died only a few days ago. We’re trying to find out where she has been in the intervening period.’

  ‘She was still alive last week?’

  ‘So it seems.’

  If Slonský supposed that this was in any way better than having been killed seven years ago, he could now see that Mrs Dlasková drew no comfort from it.

  ‘I owe it to her,’ Mrs Dlasková said at length. ‘I suppose you’re certain it’s her?’

  ‘The DNA sample you gave us matches,’ said Slonský quietly. ‘I’m afraid it’s quite certain.’

  Mrs Dlasková nodded and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘I’ll get my coat,’ she said.

  Peiperová took the opportunity to repair her make-up which, though discreet, was ravaged by the tears.

  ‘There are some things I can’t teach you,’ Slonský murmured, ‘except by giving you a bad example and telling you not to copy it.’

  Mrs Dlasková reappeared. She must have lost weight lately, because the coat was too large for her frame.

  ‘We ought to tell your husband on the way and invite him to join you,’ Slonský explained. ‘I realise that could be difficult…’

  ‘Yes — yes, of course. He’s entitled,’ Mrs Dlasková interrupted.

  ‘I’ve got his home address but he’s probably at work now. Do you know where that is?’

  ‘Yes. It’s not far from our old house. I can give you directions.’

  Mr Dlask was called by his foreman and rolled out from the underside of a tractor. He continued to cradle a large wrench, which Slonský would have preferred him to put down.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, closely followed by, ‘And why is she here?’

  Mrs Dlasková got in first. ‘They’ve found Viktorie’s body, Václav.’

  ‘Viktorie? Where?’

  Slonský decided to be vague. ‘South of Prague. We’ve taken her to Prague now. It seems that after she was abducted she was looked after, because she only died in the past few days, but we’ve identified her from a hair sample. We’re taking Mrs Dlasková to see Viktorie now. If you’d like to come we’d be happy to take you too.’

  Mr Dlask glanced at the foreman, who nodded his agreement, then he dropped the wrench on the floor and went to the washroom.

  ‘She can’t see me in this state,’ he said.

  It was a very long drive. Slon
ský feared that the Dlasks would not speak to each other in the back, but after a while Mrs Dlasková asked her husband about funeral arrangements and they began talking sporadically.

  Peiperová dropped them at the mortuary’s door and drove off to park the car. Slonský held the door open and directed them to Novák’s office, following behind them. He knocked on the door, explained his business to Novák and the pathologist came out to meet the parents and conduct them to a waiting room, excusing himself at the entrance to go ahead and prepare things in the mortuary.

  In less solemn times Slonský had been heard to wonder where Novák put all the other stiffs when the relatives were paying their respects, because there was no sign that the mortuary had any other occupants, but on this occasion he kept his mouth firmly shut, removing his hat respectfully and standing back to let the parents take all the time they wanted.

  Novák turned back the sheet and Mrs Dlasková’s legs buckled. Her husband grabbed her and kept her upright.

  ‘That’s her,’ Dlask said. ‘She’s older than when we last saw her, but there’s no mistaking her. She’d grown up into such a pretty girl.’

  If he intended to say anything else, it was lost as his face crumpled and his head dropped across his wife’s shoulder. At length his wife detached herself and gently adjusted Viktorie’s hair before planting a kiss on her forehead. Dlask followed suit.

  ‘Could we have a photograph of her?’ he asked. ‘She looks so peaceful. And we don’t have any taken since…’

  Novák promised to arrange it. ‘The prosecutor’s office will have to agree to release Viktorie’s body,’ he explained, ‘then we’ll bring it to the funeral home you’ve chosen. I can’t promise when that will be but we won’t keep her any longer than is necessary.’

  The parents nodded mutely.

  He gently steered them towards the door. Mrs Dlasková looked back longingly but allowed herself to be conducted into the corridor.

  ‘If you feel up to it,’ said Slonský, ‘I need to ask you some questions. Let’s go to my office and then we’ll drive you back home.’