The Josef Slonský Box Set

by Graham Brack

  ‘When I hang up, sir, just press the message key. It’ll ask for your PIN number. Put that in, and it will play my message back.’

  ‘But I don’t have a PIN.’

  ‘Then it’s probably the factory default, sir. It might be 0000, but Sergeant Tomáš’s phone was 2512.’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea, Peiperová. Why don’t you just tell me what the message was?’

  ‘Very well, sir. I’ve found his flat. If you come to the end of Táborská where we found him, I’ll show you where it is.’

  ‘That’s better, officer. I’m on my way. Meanwhile, you can do something very important for me.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Find me a coffee and a pastry and keep them warm.’

  Peiperová was waiting patiently by the front door with a small carrier bag in her hand.

  ‘Didn’t you want one?’ asked Slonský.

  ‘I didn’t see any point in letting it go cold, sir.’

  Slonský tried the coffee. It was still warm.

  ‘Got the key?’

  Peiperová held it up.

  ‘You can do it. I’ve got my hands full. Nice pastry, this. You made a good choice.’

  Peiperová placed the key in the lock, stepped outside the door frame, and turned it.

  ‘And what was the point of the little sidestep, pray?’ Slonský enquired.

  ‘In case it was booby-trapped, sir.’

  ‘I see. So if it exploded you would only lose a hand instead of being killed.’

  ‘I suppose so, sir.’

  ‘Whereas I would be decorating the passageway because you didn’t think to tell me of your precaution.’

  ‘Sorry, sir. I thought you would know what I was doing.’

  ‘I never know what anyone else is doing, Peiperová. Always assume that I’m completely ignorant, then make it your job to ensure that I’m not ignorant.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Shall we go in? Watch the rug on the polished floor.’

  Slonský followed her into the flat, and watched with approval as Peiperová donned evidence gloves before touching the door handles. He closed the front door by nudging it with his rear end.

  ‘Nice flat. Small, but neat. Let’s treat this as a training opportunity, Peiperová. What do you deduce?’

  ‘About what, sir?’

  ‘About Holoubek.’

  Peiperová looked around slowly.

  ‘He’s been widowed a long time. There’s no sign of a female touch. No flowers or bright colours. But his clothes are all hung up and there are shoes in the cupboard in pairs. He took a pride in his appearance. There’s very little dust, so he must have had a cleaner.’

  ‘I doubt it. A policeman’s pension doesn’t run to a cleaner. And cleaners don’t organise your pantry like that.’ He pointed to a series of jars with large handwritten labels.

  ‘Everything is well looked after. The radio is old but still working and I haven’t seen a television like that for years.’

  Slonský knelt behind the television with his pastry jammed in his mouth to free a hand. When he stood up, he had a broad smile.

  ‘The crafty old codger,’ he said admiringly.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Come along, girl. You’ve got eyes. What do you see?’

  ‘An old television.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Is it broken? It isn’t plugged in like the radio was.’

  Slonský plugged it in and turned it on.

  ‘Evidently not broken, then.’

  He turned the television back off and removed the plug from the socket.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what you’re hinting at.’

  ‘The television works, but is unplugged. There could be lots of reasons for that. But when I see a screwdriver on the shelf behind the television — and the television has been moved forward to let someone as big as me get behind it — coupled with my knowledge that Holoubek was a policeman who must have searched hundreds of houses, I draw a definite conclusion. He unplugged the television so as not to kill himself, because he used the screwdriver to take the back off it, and he did that because he used it as a hiding place for something he didn’t want anyone to find. What more natural than to guess that this is where those copies he gave us have been kept? He retrieved them just before he came out and if he’d made it back home he’d have put his room back in good order.’

  ‘Why hide them, sir?’

  ‘Habit? Fear? A belief that they’re still being looked for by others? Who knows? Now, it would be a dereliction of duty if we didn’t take the back off and look for ourselves.’

  Suiting action to the word, he swallowed the last bite of pastry, took a slurp of coffee and knelt behind the television.

  ‘Adhesive tape residue on the inside of the upper surface, but no more papers. Now then, Peiperová, we have to take this place to bits. And in view of our discovery, that means taking bits to bits too.’

  People told Peiperová that Slonský was idle, but his assiduous searching gave the lie to that. They had found nothing to do with the case, but Peiperová found an address for Holoubek’s son.

  ‘We’d best stop and tell him the sad news. It’s not too far away. No need to take your car.’

  ‘Just as well, sir. I haven’t got a car.’

  ‘So how did you get here?’

  ‘By tram, sir, the same way Holoubek got to our office.’

  ‘So how do you plan to get back?’

  ‘In your car, sir.’

  ‘I haven’t got a car either. Or, more accurately, I haven’t brought one with me. You can never park the thing anyway. Come on, we’ll walk.’

  They were still on their way when Slonský’s mobile phone rang. He glanced at the screen.

  ‘Novák. Must be important. He never rings me.’

  Slonský ducked into a doorway to answer the call.

  ‘Have you rung to swear at me again?’

  ‘No, business before pleasure, Slonský. I thought you’d like to know that the steering wheel came up trumps. We’ve got a lot of prints including a nice clear set from the right hand and some partials from the left.’

  ‘Excellent. Have we got a match—’

  ‘Yes. It goes on getting better and better. They belong to a man called Roman Pluskal.’

  ‘What’s on his record?’

  ‘Everything apart from murder and riding a bike without lights. He was a rent collector for some local bad boys. It’ll probably mean more to you than to me, but he sounds like just the sort of person who would do a bit of driving for someone.’

  ‘Good work, Novák. I owe you a drink.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ replied Novák primly, and hung up.

  Ondřej Holoubek was at work, but a neighbour knew the school where he taught. The principal sent for Ondřej and lent the detectives his office so they could speak undisturbed.

  ‘Dead? How?’

  ‘He was run over by a van driver, I’m afraid. The doctor says he didn’t suffer.’

  ‘Poor Dad. To make it to his age and then…’

  ‘Are you all right, sir? Can I get you anything?’ asked Peiperová.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you. But poor Dad. Poor, poor Dad.’

  ‘Did you know he’d been to see us twice recently?’

  ‘I knew he’d been once. He told me he went the other day. I didn’t know he’d been back.’

  ‘Yes, sir, yesterday. He was killed as he returned home. I’m afraid it wasn’t an accident.’

  Ondřej sat up as if an electric shock had been passed through him.

  ‘Not an accident? You mean it was deliberate? Someone murdered him?’

  ‘Yes, sir. We’re working on the basis that the motive for killing him was connected to his visit to us. Do you know what he wanted to tell us?’

  ‘Yes. At least, I know the general story, but not the detail. He was obsessed with a case from thirty years ago. He believed an innocent man was hanged and he wanted to put that right.’

  ‘There
’s not much you can do for someone who’s been hanged, sir.’

  ‘You can restore their good name, Lieutenant.’

  ‘What more did you know, sir? Did he discuss his plans with you?’

  ‘No, he didn’t. To be honest, I’d have tried to discourage him. I’d probably have failed, because he was a stubborn old devil, but I’d have tried.’

  Slonský gave Ondřej a card.

  ‘If you come across anything that could help us, I’d be grateful for a call.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you for coming to tell me in person. Where is he now?’

  ‘He’s at the mortuary. I’m afraid we have to conduct a post-mortem on him, but as soon as we can we’ll release him to you.’

  ‘Can I see him?’

  ‘I’ll make a call to see where we stand on that, sir. Will you excuse me a moment?’

  Slonský retired to the corridor to ring Novák, who said that the body would be ready to view by the time Ondřej got there. Slonský rang for a car to pick them up and take Ondřej to the mortuary and then home again.

  Slonský was impatient to ask questions but Novák was determined to take Ondřej into the viewing room personally. However, as he ushered Ondřej through the door, Novák handed a printout to Slonský.

  ‘This is interesting,’ said Slonský. ‘Pluskal has a varied record. Assault, drunk and disorderly, assault again, assault when drunk and disorderly, possession of narcotics with intent to supply, assault, obtaining money with menaces and another assault. Connected with the Griba gang.’

  ‘Who or what is Griba?’ Peiperová asked.

  ‘Good question. Griba runs a mob who do all sorts of naughty things, chiefly involving drugs, illegal gambling and prostitution. They also run a little protection racket.’

  ‘So if we know all this, why haven’t we stopped them?’

  ‘Well, there you are. The courts keep asking for evidence. I’ve complained about it, but I get nowhere. And the evidence we get never quite stands up. Witnesses change their minds, exhibits get lost or damaged, people unexpectedly emigrate — you know the sort of thing. You stay here and see young Holoubek gets home. I’ll call you with instructions in half an hour or so.’

  ‘Where are you going, sir?’

  ‘I’m off to see a hairdresser.’

  Armed with confirmation from the hairdresser that the person she had seen in the van was Pluskal, Slonský called Mucha to arrange for all officers to be alerted to watch for him.

  ‘Tell them not to try tackling him single-handed,’ said Slonský. ‘It could be dangerous.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Mucha told him. ‘As soon as they see the word dangerous the risk that they’ll try to arrest him will drop to zero.’

  ‘Any ideas where he might be?’

  ‘I’d be surprised if the drugs squad weren’t well informed on Griba and his men. I’ll ask Tripka.’

  ‘You do that. Has Navrátil returned yet?’

  ‘Yes, a couple of hours ago. I looked in on him and I’m pleased to report he isn’t sitting in your chair, even though you aren’t there.’

  ‘Is he doing anything useful or is he gazing at a photo of Peiperová?’

  ‘Are they an item, then?’

  ‘Heading that way. He’s young. He’ll learn.’

  ‘Isn’t young love wonderful?’

  ‘Not just wonderful, but nauseating. Don’t let him leave till I get there. Use reasonable force or hide his shoes, whichever works better. What about Peiperová?’

  ‘No sign of her.’

  Slonský rang Peiperová and directed her back to Holoubek’s flat to continue the search. Since time was of the essence during a murder enquiry he restricted his coffee break to twenty minutes, during which he fortified the inner man with a párek, having been bewitched by the smell of sausage when attempting to walk past the stall.

  Navrátil was on his knees on the floor of the office. The contents of a folder were strewn around him, and he was busy affixing sticky notes to several of the pages.

  ‘Anything of interest, Navrátil?’

  ‘It seems that Vaněček was cremated and his ashes were scattered because no family could be traced.’

  ‘But Majer said that Mrs Vančková moved out after Vaněček’s death, so why didn’t she try to claim the body?’

  ‘Is it possible the record is wrong, sir? Wouldn’t she have kicked up a stink if we hadn’t given the body back?’

  ‘Privately, but she wouldn’t have any mechanism to do so under the old regime. If the StB didn’t return a body, who could you complain to?’

  Navrátil digested the information and pondered over it for a few moments.

  ‘Sir, didn’t Vaněček have friends in high places?’

  ‘He must have done at one time. But it’s amazing how quickly they forget you when the StB reels you in.’

  ‘But wasn’t there anyone among them who wouldn’t be scared of the StB? Wouldn’t anyone speak up for him?’

  ‘Not a snowball’s chance, lad. In a Czech popularity list he would have come just below Heydrich once he was in custody. But where did you get your information?’

  ‘His personnel file, sir. I’ve marked the relevant pages. He left the service in May 1977. It says that he was disciplined for interference in a security operation, demoted to Major and retired with a pension. That sounds harsh to me.’

  ‘It sounds bloody generous to me. A lot of people wouldn’t have stayed out of jail, kept any rank or got a pension.’

  ‘He moved to Zdiby and then it records that his pension ceased after he was arrested for disseminating anti-State propaganda, whatever that means.’

  ‘It means moaning, lad. Any date for that?’

  ‘Pension ceased 24th May 1979.’

  ‘Anything else useful?’

  ‘Two things, sir. He died at Pankrác Prison, so he may be in the records there. And between the end of the Bartoš case and his demotion he was working on a profiteering enquiry.’

  ‘No more details?’

  ‘No, sir. It just says it was bourgeois anti-social profiteering.’

  ‘Aha!’ Slonský cried, causing Navrátil to jump a little. ‘You don’t speak the lingo, Navrátil, but that’s a sort of code for anti-corruption work. He was tracking down people who counted who had lined their pockets. That won’t have made him popular either. We need to find out if anyone was prosecuted as a result of that investigation. A lot of the old StB files are still around and we’ll have to check whether any of them mention him. That’s a big job, so get the address and a pass from Mucha and stay there till you’ve checked it out.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Do you think I’ll find anything, sir?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s why you need to look. Generally speaking, Navrátil, I don’t ask you to do things when I already know the answer. Unless you’ve annoyed me with stupid questions and I feel like wasting your time, of course.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’

  Slonský flopped into his chair.

  ‘No, I’m sorry, lad. It wasn’t as daft as I made out. Besides, I’m going to spoil your plans for a day or two. I’m going to take Peiperová on a long trip.’

  ‘I thought I was your assistant, sir.’

  ‘So you are, and it’s a compliment to you that I think I can leave you to look through the StB archives without having to hold your hand. Peiperová is coming because I’m planning to look for Bartoš’ family and I may need a female officer. I suppose the Slovaks might give us one, but it’s safer to take my own. I’m planning to go tomorrow, spend a day or two on it and come back at the weekend. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Peiperová has her own room in the hotel.’

  ‘I’m sure I can trust you, sir.’

  ‘Yes, that’s the sad thing. You can. Twenty years ago … who knows?’

  Lukas looked doubtful.

  ‘I hope this is an efficient use of our resources, Slonský.’

  ‘So do I, sir.’

  ‘I can understand the need to speak to
Mrs Bartošová if she is still alive…’

  ‘I’ve checked with the local council, sir, and she is. She still lives in the same house as she did when Bartoš was hanged, in the country to the north of Dolný Kubín.’

  ‘Couldn’t we ask the local police to go?’

  ‘They don’t have enough background, sir. Besides, I like to see the whites of a witness’s eyes when I question them.’

  ‘Well, is it necessary to take Peiperová? That means two hotel rooms.’

  ‘We could always share, sir, but she may snore.’

  ‘Slonský! There is no question of your sharing a room, under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir. Thank you — she’s a fit young woman and I’m not sure I’d be able to fight her off if she jumped on me.’

  A tiny smile flickered on Lukas’ face.

  ‘I think the expression I’m looking for is “in your dreams”, Slonský.’

  ‘You may be right, sir, though I don’t have those dreams anymore.’

  Lukas scrawled a signature.

  ‘Very well. But tell the Slovaks what you’re up to, do it all by the book, don’t upset anyone and come straight home afterwards. How is it going?’

  ‘Peiperová is searching Holoubek’s flat now, sir. I’m going to join her. Navrátil has Vaněček’s personnel file. We know he was investigating corruption when he was sacked.’

  ‘That’s suggestive. Do we know whom he had in his sights?’

  ‘Not yet, sir. While we’re away, Navrátil will check the StB archives, but it’s a long shot. The chances are that the villain was one of us, but we might strike lucky. And we know Vaněček’s ashes were scattered, allegedly because he had no family, though we know his wife was still alive.’

  ‘You know what that means, Slonský. The body was so badly damaged they couldn’t risk letting his wife see it.’

  ‘That explains the cremation, sir. It doesn’t explain the scattering. A convicted criminal might be scattered, but Vaněček wasn’t convicted. And as Navrátil points out, he must have had powerful friends. The StB can’t have known how powerful. Surely they wouldn’t want to risk upsetting anyone in high places.’

  ‘I doubt if they cared. They were almost untouchable. And they’d have gauged the reaction to his arrest. I assume they’d have held him for a few days. Firm intervention might have saved him, but I’d hazard a guess that nobody lifted a finger. And when nobody made a fuss, they proceeded to maltreat him.’