A Second Death

by Graham Brack

  ‘I’ll tell her tonight.’

  ‘By phone?’

  ‘No, I’ll go round there as soon as we’ve finished here.’

  There was a lengthy pause.

  ‘Maybe I’d better have another beer,’ said Navrátil.

  Chapter 7

  The list finally arrived from the kindergarten and Slonský pushed everything to one side of his desk so that he could get busy with the highlighter pen he had snaffled from Peiperová’s unoccupied desk.

  ‘Right, lad, we’re up and running.’

  ‘What are we going to do, sir?’

  ‘Not we, Navrátil. You. It’s time you flew solo. The experience will be good for you. I’m going to work my way through this list. We’re going to tackle this case from both ends.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I’m going to see if I can work out what happened to Viktorie Dlasková seven years ago. I want you to get the photo of her doctored so she looks alive, then get it to all the head teachers south of Prague. She must have gone to school somewhere and I want to find out why nobody is making a fuss about her being missing.’

  ‘I’ve already had the photo done, sir. It’s on the wall behind you.’

  Slonský turned in surprise as if the installation of a notice board had been done in secret.

  ‘Good work. If you speak nicely to the Ministry of Education they might have some idea where you can get a list of schools. When you get a response, go to the school and collect all the information you can. Then, with a bit of luck, somewhere we’ll see a link between what you’ve got and what I’ve got and work out what’s been happening the last seven years.’

  Navrátil decided not to mention that he had already obtained a list of schools from the Ministry. Unfortunately, not all of them had faxes, so he had to think of an alternative.

  ‘If the school doesn’t have a fax, can I send it to the local police station and ask them to take it round?’

  ‘Why not? It’ll give them something to do besides watching daytime television. Sign the request in my name but put your details as the point of contact. This list may take me a while, so I’ll just pay a visit to the canteen and see if they’ve got anything edible. Do you want anything while I’m there?’

  This was a novel experience for Navrátil. Usually he was sent, and even if he and Slonský went together he would find that Slonský’s wallet had not accompanied them. He was torn between taking full advantage and having something to eat that he did not need.

  ‘Just a coffee, thanks,’ he finally replied.

  Slonský bent over his desk and made direct — and rather threatening — eye contact.

  ‘There was a significant pause there, lad. Were you contemplating some dietary wickedness? Go on — I won’t tell her.’

  ‘No, really, I’m fine.’

  ‘I don’t want you fainting from hunger while you’re watching me eating my roll.’

  ‘I had a good breakfast, sir.’

  ‘Well, if you die of malnutrition don’t come running to me,’ declared Slonský as he left the room.

  Within a couple of hours Navrátil’s efforts appeared to have borne fruit. A head teacher in Komořany telephoned to say that the young girl might have been one of their former pupils.

  ‘Former?’ asked Slonský.

  ‘She left in the middle of September.’

  ‘And we know why, don’t we?’

  ‘No, that’s why they hadn’t reported her missing. She says the mother came to see her on Friday, 14th September to say that she and her daughter were moving away.’

  ‘Did she give a reason?’

  ‘Not immediately. The teacher didn’t want to pry, but then the mother said if her partner came to pick Viktorie up they weren’t to hand her over because their relationship had broken down and she and her daughter were leaving town.’

  ‘And how was the teacher supposed to stop him?’

  ‘She’s not his daughter and they weren’t married, it seems, so he had no say in the matter. The teacher said she wasn’t entirely surprised because Viktorie hadn’t been her usual self for a while.’

  ‘How long is a while?’

  ‘Certainly before the summer. I thought I’d drive out there now and see if she can confirm identity from the clothes and the photograph, and I’ll take a statement while I’m there.’

  Slonský was studying the map and measuring distances with his thumb.

  ‘Komořany is about four kilometres upstream from where she was found. Perhaps a bit more allowing for the bends in the river. It sounds plausible. Off you go, lad.’

  Navrátil grabbed his coat and left, and Slonský returned to his list. There were four people not on duty on the day Viktorie Dlasková was snatched, but they all still lived in the district. It seemed inherently unlikely that anyone who kidnapped a child would be able to conceal her presence for seven years in a place where she was known and where the local police, inept as they were, had been looking for her, but he decided he had to go there just to check.

  The small problem was that Navrátil had the car, so Slonský was compelled to ask Dlouhý for the use of a pool car.

  Relationships with Dlouhý had been a little strained since Slonský took advantage of Dlouhý’s poor eyesight to switch the car keys he had been allocated for those of a much better model in which he, Navrátil and Klinger had driven to Germany to interview a witness. Although that was over a year and a half earlier, Dlouhý had a long memory, largely because it had taken him several days to work out why the mileage logs on the various vehicles did not reconcile correctly.

  ‘Would it help if I apologised? Again,’ asked Slonský.

  ‘I thought you were one of the good guys,’ muttered Dlouhý. ‘One of the old-timers.’

  ‘I am an old-timer,’ Slonský asserted. ‘I’m older than almost everyone here.’

  ‘I’ve got a 2002 Fabia over there,’ Dlouhý offered.

  ‘Nothing with a bit more leg room? I’m taller than average, you see.’

  ‘No,’ said Dlouhý firmly.

  ‘What about that blue thing behind you?’

  ‘Only for majors and above. They haven’t made you a major yet behind my back, have they?’

  ‘Of course not. I wouldn’t accept anyway.’

  ‘You wouldn’t?’

  ‘I didn’t want to be a captain, so I sure as hell don’t have any plans to become a major.’

  This lack of ambition seemed to Dlouhý to speak to at least one of the old-time virtues, public service without thought of reward, so he softened a little.

  ‘I’ve got a van.’

  ‘A van?’

  ‘You know what a van is?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not exactly the thing for a drive to Most, is it?’

  ‘Big engine. With no load you can get it to a hundred easy as pie.’

  Slonský felt in a mood to compromise. ‘Really?’

  ‘Goes like a greyhound. You’re going to Most, you say?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘There’s more than enough fuel in the tank for the return trip. Promise me you won’t try to fill her up. It’d be like you to forget she takes diesel.’

  Slonský declined to reply in case it upset the delicate negotiation, and simply held out his hand for the keys.

  ‘Sign here, here and here,’ said Dlouhý. ‘Your own name this time, if you please.’

  The teacher was in no doubt.

  ‘Yes, that’s Viktorie,’ she sighed. ‘How awful!’

  ‘Do you have a surname for her?’

  ‘Viktorie Broukalová.’

  Navrátil wrote it down.

  ‘How did she die?’ asked the teacher.

  ‘I can’t tell you that,’ Navrátil replied, ‘but she was found in the Vltava. And she didn’t drown.’

  The teacher covered her mouth with her hand in shock.

  ‘She was murdered?’

  ‘We can’t say that for certain. It’s just possible it was an accidental death, but t
he fact that someone put her in the river rather than calling for help strongly suggests it wasn’t an accident.’

  ‘No … no, I can see that.’

  ‘What can you tell me about Viktorie and her family?’

  ‘Viktorie was a very quiet — I might almost say timid — girl. Studious, and well liked by her teachers. Never disobedient. Her disciplinary record was excellent. So far as her grades go, she was above average until earlier this year, when they dropped quite sharply.’

  ‘Did you wonder why?’

  ‘Her class teacher came to see me to express her concern. She was convinced there was some problem at home. Viktorie was still cared for, so there was no hint of neglect, but it was just a few little pointers that the teacher had noticed.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘One of the things we ask them to write about after the summer is what they did on holiday. Viktorie didn’t mention her parents at all. Or, should I say, her mother and her mother’s partner, because I gather he wasn’t Viktorie’s biological father.’

  ‘Let’s talk about the parents. I’ll need to find them, so if you have an address that would help.’

  The teacher scribbled it on a leaf from a small notepad and gave it to Navrátil.

  ‘If you cross the road when you leave, you go three or four blocks and turn left,’ she added.

  ‘Thank you. What do you know about Mrs Broukalová?’

  ‘She seemed a very pleasant woman. She doted on Viktorie. Viktorie spent her entire school life with us, so we saw her grow up. Her parents were very proud of her. That is, her stepfather…’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Though you wouldn’t know she wasn’t his. He was very gentle and affectionate with her. She called him Daddy. I don’t think she remembered her birth father. I gather he died when she was very small. There’s a note in her file that Mrs Broukalová had produced his death certificate thus excusing the school from consulting her father about any aspect of her education.’

  ‘Do you still have it?’

  ‘I don’t, I’m afraid. We would have returned it once we’d seen it. And I don’t honestly recall seeing it myself, but that would have been four or five years ago and I may well have forgotten.’

  ‘Can you describe Mrs Broukalová to me?’

  ‘Not particularly tall, very dark hair, not quite shoulder length, dark brown eyes. She must have worked somewhere nearby but I don’t think we know where. She must have lavished a lot of money and attention on Viktorie, who was always immaculately turned out. The mother was clean and tidy, but obviously didn’t spent similar amounts on herself.’

  ‘Slightly built?’

  ‘Not overweight, by any means. If anything she was probably a kilo or two under average weight for her height, I’d have said.’

  ‘Could you describe her stepfather?’

  The teacher frowned. ‘He looked like a professional type. Collar and tie whenever I saw him — rather like you. So many men don’t wear ties these days. Mid to late thirties, clean shaven, light brown hair cut quite neatly. He said very little to us, but left his partner to do most of the talking.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you know his name?’

  ‘I’ve been trying hard to think of it, but I don’t think I do. I think his first name may have been Daniel, but I wouldn’t swear to that. Miss Fantlová was her class teacher. Why don’t I take you to ask her?’

  Navrátil agreed, and they walked along the corridor. The head teacher exchanged a few quiet words with Miss Fantlová and then took over the class while the younger woman stepped outside.

  ‘I understand this is about little Viktorie,’ she said.

  Navrátil nodded. ‘I’m afraid it is. Her body…’

  He got no further. Miss Fantlová emitted a little shriek and slumped forward. It was only by dropping his notebook that he was able to grab her before she hit the concrete floor. In the absence of chairs he laid her gently on the ground in the recovery position and placed his folded jacket under her knees, having heard somewhere that this might help the blood flow to the brain. Tentatively he opened the classroom door and waited for the head teacher to notice him.

  When she heard what had happened she took control.

  ‘You’re ten years old, not little children,’ she announced. ‘Please continue with your work quietly while I help Miss Fantlová.’ She closed the door behind her. ‘She can’t stay here. Are we able to carry her?’

  ‘I think so,’ Navrátil decided, tucking his pen and notebook away. He had expected to carry her himself, because she was shorter and thinner than Kristýna Peiperová, and he had reason to believe that he could pick his girlfriend up. However, an unconscious and uncooperative woman is a very different load. On top of that, he was by no means certain where he could put his hands with due propriety. This conundrum was solved for him by the head teacher, who looped her arms through Miss Fantlová’s armpits.

  ‘If you’ll take her legs we can get her to my office and put her in one of the armchairs.’

  Navrátil grasped the ankles, but that wasn’t helping much, so he decided the best bet was to grip her by clasping his hands behind her knees. As they lifted her Miss Fantlová’s dress flopped upwards revealing that, however dowdy her outer layer, her choice in underwear veered towards the pink and lacy.

  Navrátil grabbed the hem of her dress and gripped it between his thumbs to preserve her decency as she was manhandled to the office, propped in a chair and gently shaken by the head teacher. When this produced no response the first aid kit was produced, which proved to contain a small bottle of smelling salts. In no time at all Miss Fantlová was coughing and spluttering and gratefully accepting the offer of a glass of water.

  ‘I feel so embarrassed,’ she said.

  This did not seem the time to apologise for having seen her panties, so Navrátil assured her that she had nothing to be embarrassed about, the head teacher returned to the classroom, and Navrátil pulled up a chair to resume his questioning. He sat down before he realised that it was a special little chair for the smaller children. Miss Fantlová broke into a gentle chuckle.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,’ she said.

  ‘It’s better than fainting,’ Navrátil answered. ‘I’m sorry I gave you a shock.’

  ‘I guessed something must have happened when the head showed me the photo to confirm that we both thought it was Viktorie, but she took it away again before I could read the fax fully. How did it happen?’

  ‘She suffocated somehow. Her body was found in the river.’

  Miss Fantlová’s eyes ran freely with tears which smudged her make-up and left a black trail across her cheeks. ‘Not an accident, then?’

  ‘If it was, someone still has to explain why they put her in the river. The head teacher has told me most of what I need to know, but you spent more time with Viktorie and her family. I’d be very pleased to have your comments.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Miss Fantlová, visibly trying to pull herself together. At that moment she looked rather like an eleven-year-old who had borrowed her big sister’s clothes.

  ‘Where do you want me to start?’ she asked, looking for a tissue to dry her eyes in her pocket, and gratefully accepting Navrátil’s handkerchief when she failed to find one.

  ‘What was Viktorie like?’

  ‘A polite girl, quiet, very keen to please.’

  ‘Was she a loner?’

  Miss Fantlová creased her brow in contemplation.

  ‘You know, I’d never thought of it but until recently she wasn’t. She’d play happily with the other children. But earlier this year something changed. Her school work suffered and she didn’t want to go outside as much. She’d ask if there was anything she could do to help me in the classroom, so she’d help putting pens and paints out, or collecting the workbooks.’

  ‘Did you have any idea what might have spurred that change?’

  Miss Fantlová hesitated as if reluctant to say what she thought, but then deci
ded that she ought to answer, and did it in a rather louder voice as if to emphasise that she was not holding anything back.

  ‘I think her periods may have started. A couple of times I had to help her clean up.’

  ‘I see,’ said Navrátil, whose experience of menstrual cycles was limited. ‘Would that explain the decline in schoolwork?’

  ‘Not really. Obviously there might be a day or two when she didn’t feel well and was uncomfortable or in pain. But it was more as if she found it psychologically difficult to deal with. I wondered if her mother hadn’t told her what was happening to her, but when I mentioned it to Mrs Broukalová she assured me her daughter knew all she needed to know.’

  Navrátil wanted to ask a question but was finding it difficult to phrase properly.

  ‘Is it possible … it wasn’t actually a period?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Navrátil broke eye contact for a second to make it easier for him to say.

  ‘There is some evidence that she had been sexually abused.’

  ‘Sweet Jesus! No!’

  The tears began again, necessitating another outing for Navrátil’s handkerchief.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘That might explain the bleeding and the change in her performance,’ Miss Fantlová commented. ‘But I can’t believe we didn’t spot that. She didn’t say anything, even to me.’

  ‘Maybe she thought that was all part of growing up,’ offered Navrátil. It sounded lame to him, but then he had never been a small girl. ‘I’d be grateful if you didn’t say anything about the abuse just yet.’

  Miss Fantlová agreed. When her voice failed her, she simply nodded her head.

  ‘What about Viktorie’s mother?’

  ‘A nice woman. She would do anything for Viktorie. They weren’t well off, but Viktorie never looked neglected. She always had shoes that fitted properly, for example. I can’t say that for all my class, sadly.’

  ‘And her partner?’

  ‘Much the same. Always polite, quite well presented. He looked like he had some kind of office job. It can’t have been particularly well paid unless he spent it all on himself.’