by Lena Bourne
“Both of them, as far as I can tell,” Dino says. “I just hope it’s not a waste of time going all the way there. He might know nothing.”
I’m not used to hearing defeat in Dino’s voice. He’s usually the voice of optimism in every case we work on.
“You’re thinking we’ll never get to the bottom of it?” I ask.
“And you don’t?” he asks. “It’s the mafia we’re up against and you know how it works with the mafia around here. Nothing ever happens.”
We’re on the highway now, and it’s as dark as some back alley and just as oppressive. It’s never well lit, but tonight the thick, low-hanging clouds are adding their bit too. I roll down my window for the fresh air and step on the gas. The road is empty, I can make the hundred or so kilometer drive in good time. And there’s nothing like driving fast to focus the mind.
“But the whole case is also very centered on one group of people, isn’t it?” I say. “Or two, I guess. The Leskovars and the Rajićs.”
“Yeah, it does seem that way,” he says, but doesn’t sound convinced. “Could be wrong place wrong time. Could be they knew something and now that we started asking questions they had to be eliminated.”
Given what Jana told me about her father, his theory is plausible and I tell him that.
“Hopefully Leskovar’s ex-wife will be ready to talk tomorrow,” I say.
He chuckles. “Getting shot has the effect of loosening people tongues, I find.”
“Or Vasko will show up, looking for protection,” I add. “He struck me as a guy who puts himself first, so I’m a little surprised he didn’t just go straight to the police when he found out he was in danger.”
“Hopefully,” he says. “Has Eva found anything?”
I briefly tell him what she told me this morning, making a mental note to text her as soon as we get to the coast. It’s almost ten PM, and she’s probably done waiting for my call, which makes me nervous and sad at the same time. So I step on the gas even harder, making Dino gasp the few times we come upon a slow car in the fast lane, but he doesn’t comment and I don’t slow down.
We’re in the coastal town of Portorož by a quarter to eleven, and Dino finds the club we’re looking for on his phone. It’s located right on the sandy beach, so I park my car as close to it on the boulevard as I can so we can continue on foot. It’s not a warm night and a cold, strong wind is gusting off the sea. But as always, the sea air relaxes me. Tonight, mostly because it smells like home and I’m tired.
I check my messages, while he locates the club with the help of the map on his phone. One of them is a voice mail from Eva, telling me Esma’s brother Tarik is in town and wants to talk to her. I tell Dino about it, then call Eva right away.
“Whatever you do, don’t go anywhere with Tarik Rajić,” I say as soon as she picks up. “He could be dangerous.”
“I know,” she snaps. “What kind of idiot do you take me for?”
“Not an idiot, just reckless and too damn fearless,” I snap back as three very vivid examples of her putting herself in mortal danger flash through my mind and before my eyes, like I’m reliving them all over again.
“I wish you could start trusting me,” she says angrily. “Why can’t you?”
“Because of the Rose Petal killer for one,” I snap back, unable to stop myself, since that story is the most vivid in my mind right now. It was the wrong thing to say, her sharp inhale tells me that.
“I know I’ve made mistakes in the past,” she says. “Miscalculations. It wasn’t a good time for me.”
Yeah, me either. But I manage not to say that.
“And if you must know, I did the sensible thing already by not getting in the car with him. And tomorrow, I’m meeting him in front of the police station so he can answer my questions,” she says. “Does that level of playing it safe meet your high standards for me?”
Dino has moved away from me as soon I started talking and he’s waiting for me with his back turned.
“Just be safe, Eva,” I say. “Please.”
“I know what I’m doing, Mark,” she says, her clipped tone suggesting we’re still not at a place where we can move on and speak normally again.
I briefly explain where I am and why, and give her the short rundown of all that’s happened today.
But she still doesn’t sound calm as I tell her I’ll call her tomorrow.
After we say good night, it’s hard putting all those vivid bad memories that surfaced, or her cold, angry tone, out of my head as I join Dino on the sidewalk, but the gusting cold wind off the sea helps. He doesn’t say anything and that helps too.
Portorož is styled after the towns in the French Riviera, or Venice Beach for that matter, and has a long, wide boulevard lined with pine trees running the length of the beach, lined with large hotels, some of them very grand. We cross the boulevard and find a path to the beach between a restaurant and a two-story shopping mall, both of which are closed.
Blaring music is the first sign that we’ve come to the right place, though the place we’re looking for is not so much a club as a beach bar with tables right on the sand and a large, cleared area inside for dancing. No one is. In fact, there are only about six people there, plus a young waitress leaning on the bar counter and a bored-looking bouncer sitting on a barstool by the door and looking at his phone. I expected a strip club at least, and certainly not just a bar.
Dino walks right up to the security man. “Are you Krešo?”
The guy gives him an incredulous look and nods. “Why?”
Dino tells him who we are, and what we’ve come to talk about, and the guy shushes him with a hand gesture when he mentions Anita’s name.
“I heard you were looking for me,” he says in a serious, hushed tone. “Meet me by the pier in five minutes.”
The pier he’s talking about is a massive wooden structure barely visible against the dark sky. Dino cuts a line to it straight across the sandy beach. As it always is with sand, it gets in my shoes almost immediately. But I hardly notice it since I’m hoping all this secrecy means Krešo has something good to tell us.
We’re halfway to the pier when I hear him tell someone, probably the waitress, that he’s going on a break.
The sea is roiling tonight, waves hitting the shore and hissing back along the sand, overshadowed by a constant loud whooshing sound. By the time we reach the first of the pier legs, it’s positively deafening.
We stop and turn, watching the guy approach, taking long strides across the sand.
“So you’re the one who came to the police station with information after Anita was found dead?” I ask once he stops next to us.
He nods. “Anita was my friend from way back. So was her brother. From childhood, you know? But no one wanted to hear what I had to say.”
“And what was that?” I ask. “We want to hear it. We’re investigating her murder.”
“And her brother’s I hope,” he snaps. “His death wasn’t an accident.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“Because Anita must’ve told him the same thing she told me,” he says. “I’m sure of it.”
“Which was?” I ask.
“She called me on the phone, but I couldn’t pick up, so she left a voicemail,” he says. “She said she knew who the man who killed her sister was and where we could find him. She asked me to help her get revenge.”
Dino gasps and glances at me.
“That’s it?” I ask. “That’s all she said?”
“I tried calling her back but she wasn’t picking up. Then the next day her brother died. And a day later she did too,” he says.
“So she knew her sister was dead not just missing?” I ask.
He nods again. “She knew that for a while, ever since she left home.”
“And you think she told her brother who the killer was?”
“I wish she told me too, then I could at least get revenge for all of them,” he says in a hard, angry voice. “But yes, I
’m sure she told him everything including the murderer’s name.”
“And you have no idea who it could be?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “None. Unfortunately.”
“And the cops flat out weren’t interested in what you had to tell them?” I ask.
“I didn’t tell them,” he says. “I went to the police station and asked to speak to a detective working on her brother’s case. But they told me there was no detective since it was an accident. And then, after she was found dead, I was too scared to go back since I didn’t trust the police to protect me. Especially after they couldn’t find her killer. But I’ve regretted it ever since. Will you catch him?”
“We’re doing our best,” Dino assures him.
“Do you still have the voicemail?” I ask on the off-chance, and he surprises me by nodding and reaching into his breast pocket for his phone.
We wait silently, while he searches for the recording and a few moments later Anita’s voice comes on, saying what he said she did. That she knew who her sister’s killer was and where to find him. With anger, she asked Krešo here to help her get revenge.
I don’t exactly know what I expected her voice to sound like, but this isn’t it. She sounds so young, her voice almost girly. And hearing it makes her death—her gruesome, brutal death—all the more real to me. And sickening.
“Can you send me a copy of that?” I ask and give him my email when he agrees.
“I will do whatever you need me to do, testify or whatever,” he says.
“Thank you. And if you think of anything else, call me.”
I hand him my calling card, and he once again asks us to find the killer before walking back across the sand toward the bar.
“You got to admit it kind of figures, right?” Dino says. “I mean her brother’s death so close to hers was always suspicious.”
“It was,” I say. “We need to find out more about it. What project it was, what time of day it happened, that kind of things.”
It’s another prime example of how my blinders regarding Leskovar stalled this investigation. We should’ve looked into this before now.
“I’ll get on it tomorrow,” he says and I suggest we grab some dinner before heading back.
As refreshing as a gusting wind off the sea is, it quickly finds its way down to your bones. And all I had to eat today were a couple of those jam-filled pastries Mira keeps buying for us. So much for taking care of myself on cases. But that’s the thing about new habits. They take a long time to build.
Kind of like all those good promises I made to Eva regarding trusting her judgment completely and not worrying about her like she’s someone I need to protect. She’s her own woman.
22
Eva
I didn’t sleep well, kept tossing and turning and waking up covered in sweat and my heart beating too fast. And it wasn’t all just because Mark’s tone and what he said triggered me. But it did bring my mind right back to all those arguments we had both before we broke up, and after, while we were trying to figure out how to live without each other. Real nice of him to bring up the Rose Petal Killer. I was truly at the height of my reckless behavior when that happened.
But that’s not all that kept me awake. The first time I woke up was just after I had finally gone to sleep. I thought I distinctly heard someone trying to open the front door and only the chain was stopping them. I sat up on the sofa, expecting whoever it was to ring the doorbell, since I was sure it was Renata returning. But no one did, and no other sound came, so in the end, I concluded I only dreamed it.
I went back to sleep and woke for a second time, because I had a vivid, endless nightmare of someone watching me while I slept. Each time I woke up the house and outside were completely silent, only dogs barking marring the nighttime peace.
What woke me now wasn’t my alarm clock or the rising sun in my eyes, but the smell of coffee brewing, strong and thick.
I get up, put my hoodie over my pajamas, and head into the kitchen in search of a cup.
“You do not look like you’ve slept well, so I won’t even ask,” Fata says as I enter.
She doesn’t look like she slept well either. Her hair isn’t combed, her eyes are red and her skin is sallow to the point of being almost grey.
“Has Renata been home at all yesterday?” I ask, pouring myself a cup of coffee from the pot in the center of the table before even sitting down.
She shakes her head. “No. And she didn’t even take her phone with her, wherever she is.”
That wakes me up better than any coffee ever could. I did try to reach her several times yesterday and her phone had been off. Probably because the battery has died.
“She could be in trouble, Fata,” I say, but the old woman just scoffs and sips at her coffee rather loudly.
“I’m serious,” I say. “She left in an evening dress and didn’t take her phone. Did she at least take her wallet and keys?”
“I think so,” Fata says. “And she left in her slut dress. Maybe she went back to her old ways. She’s been threatening to do it for years.”
Somehow I don’t believe that. I understand where Fata is coming from, she’s so afraid she’s lost her granddaughter again that it’s easier for her to pretend she doesn’t care, but I think we should both be worried. I stirred something up by coming here asking about Esma and Anita, I’m sure I have. And I hope Renata hasn’t now paid the price for that.
“We have to report her missing, come on, call the police and I’ll get dressed,” I say.
I get up and wait for her to agree, but she just scoffs again takes a sip of her coffee. I hope she’ll change her mind while I’m elsewhere, so I leave the kitchen.
Upstairs, I take the shortest of showers and just take enough time to brush my teeth. The door to Renata’s bedroom is still firmly shut and the sight of it fills me with dread and guilt, even though the most logical explanation for her absence is the fight she had with Fata and the latter’s refusal to accept Rado. And my panic over it could be due to the nightmarish memories Mark’s outburst woke in me.
He’s not the only one who went through that. In fact, if we’re being fair, I went through all of it. But I know he means well and I know he’s only acting that way because he loves me. I’m even starting to accept it because I love him too and never want to lose him again. But I won’t admit that.
Back in the kitchen, Fata hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting at the table in her washed-out, blue, and grey dressing gown over a pair of light blue pajamas.
“Did you call the police?” I ask and she shakes her head.
“They won’t take me seriously,” she says. “It’s Renata after all, she’s done this kind of thing before. I hope she’s happy with that no good low-life wherever she is.”
She’s clearly not going to call them no matter what I say, I can see that in her hard eyes and hear it in her curt voice. I could do it myself, but I think it’s best I go there in person, since Renata isn’t my relative and since I don’t plan on leaving until they agree to go look for her.
I’m in the square half an hour early for our meeting, but Tarik is already there, standing with one leg on the edge of the basin and looking into the water. The square itself is quite full of people, which isn’t surprising, given the number of shops and businesses that seem to have offices in the buildings lining it. Two of the cafés are also already open and operating, but the outdoor tables are only a third full though.
“You are early too,” he says as I approach him. “Good. Shall we get some coffee?”
“I’m going to the police station first,” I say. “The woman I’m staying with hasn’t been home for two nights, and I’m starting to get worried about her.”
His face turns dark, his eyes more than a little menacing. “They won’t do anything. They never do. The only thing they’re good for is harassing people who are already down, and turning a blind eye.”
I get a distinct feeling he’s talking about his father or his fa
mily in general, but it’s the second part of his sentence that gets my full attention.
“A blind eye to what?” I ask.
“To the damn traffickers, what else?” he snaps. “If your friend fell victim to one of those, don’t expect fat old commandant to do anything about finding her. I’m pretty sure he’s on the take.”
He sounds like this is firsthand knowledge he’s sharing with me, but I’ve been exposed to enough people who are good at projecting vast amounts of knowledge and authority about something they know very little about.
“Do you think your sister was trafficked?” I ask.
“I know both her boyfriend Milo and his brother worked for the mob,” he says. “It’s not a stretch to assume they sold her on. Maybe the boyfriend got sick of her and sold her, but then regretted it and killed himself. And I think maybe they wanted to do the same to Anita too, but she escaped. Not for long though.”
“Do you know for a fact that they worked for the mafia?” I ask.
He nods. “Yes. I saw it with my own eyes. Rado taking orders from a man I was doing business with. I told Esma to stay away from him and his brother, but she never listened to me. I should’ve been firmer with her. I failed her as an older brother, I failed my whole family.”
I glance back at the police station building. It’s impossible to know who is already in there, but the front door is wide open, so someone must be.
“Come see the commandant with me,” I say. “We can tell him all this.”
He shakes his head. “No!”
“Fine, then I’m going alone,” I say, refusing to believe the man will just do nothing.
“I’ll wait here,” he says. “Find me when you realize I’m right and I’m your best bet for getting some answers around here.”
I don’t like the sound of that, not one bit. I’d like to trust him, I’d like to think he’s a victim in all this too, the worst one actually, but he sure is trying hard to get me to be alone with him.
I don’t respond to him, just stride towards the police station. Like yesterday, no one stops me on the way to the main office, the door of which is wide open today, the smell of coffee, and the sound of typing filling the hallway as I approach.