A Hidden Girl

by D K Bohlman

  ‘Ah, good stuff. Tell me. Then I’ll tell you about Beata Sandor.’

  That sounded like tell me yours and I’ll better it … but she pressed on.

  ‘Well, from notes on the iPad it’s clear Eszter found some lists potentially implicating Marton Kovacs in war crimes. So that explains a bit about the notepad scrawl that you found yesterday. Also, there was a book referred to that they couldn’t find, so they stopped there. I guess that may have been part of what she was asking him about.’

  Calum scratched his chin stubble.

  ‘OK. So clearly the meeting she had with Marton could have been a bit tense. Or worse. Not sure about the relevance of the book. We’re trying to find Sarah McTeer here, after all, not investigate war crimes. Although, I don’t believe Sarah was either, in terms of what you told me about her research scope?’

  Jenna nodded and stored her annoyance at his shut down on the war crimes. Maybe true, but there was something about it that was nagging at her.

  Calum turned and looked at her directly. ‘Beata Sandor then.’

  He waited for Jenna to signal she was ready to hear.

  ‘So I asked her why she’d been helping Sarah and Eszter. Put it to her that it might be seen as unusual.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She, well, she said she was always helpful, especially to visitors. But I did wonder how she did that, you know, does she have a foreign visitor scanner in the lobby?’

  Jenna smirked.

  ‘So, no, she doesn't yeah? So that didn't stack up and she offered no other explanation. Also, I pressed her on Marton Kovacs. She said she didn’t know of him. But her eyes and body language told me different. She wouldn’t be pushed on it, but there is something wrong there, I can smell it.’

  ‘I trust your sixth sense, Calum. So what next? We can’t talk to Marton, he’s dead. And the hotel manager Aliz seems shifty too but won’t talk anymore. So what do we do?’

  Calum shook his head wearily.

  ‘You’re right. We need a new angle … or a lever on Aliz Gal. We need to sleep on that one. Problem too, is that in Scotland I’d ask my police buddies to help with background and swap details. I’m hamstrung here, don’t know the police or the lingo. Makes it harder, eh?’

  He took another draw on his glass and drained the last drop, stood up and pulled a tired scowl across his face.

  ‘Well, we made some good progress today eh? I’ve had enough of this second-rate booze. I’m off to my bed. See you bright and early, Jen.’ He waved a half-hearted goodbye and ambled off to the lifts.

  Jenna threw a limp wave and smile back, thinking about what that new angle might be. She swivelled her gaze back to the bar. She had a feeling about what would meet her now. She was right.

  ‘Another drink? Jenna isn't it, I think I heard? Sorry, I wasn’t meaning to listen in!’

  Izabella was smiling and peering into her face expectantly.

  ‘Err … yes OK. A small beer please.’ She smiled back at her. A bit longer than she normally would, she thought. Or was it? She wasn’t really sure what was going through her mind … or heart … but there was a dimension in this simple conversation that was more than a bar chat … and not something she’d felt before.

  Izabella turned and looked for a beer glass, bending down to a low shelf for a small one.

  Jenna realised she was staring at the girl. More than staring. Admiring. Admiring her shape. She swallowed, hard. Something else was building as well, and it was surprising her. Almost shocking her. Almost … were it not for the fact that it wasn’t the first time she’d felt like this.

  She peered down into her empty glass. She was lusting, that was what it was. Jenna smiled to herself and thought of Gregor. When she did the feeling changed … not into a bad thing … but into something distinctly different … but similar.

  ‘Here you are.’ Izabella slipped a paper mat under the beer glass, slopping a tiny amount before setting it down.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘A beer here too, please,’ came from further along the bar. Jenna turned. A stranger. Izabella went to serve him.

  Jenna relaxed a little and sipped her beer, watching the interaction further down the counter. Friendly. But no more than that. Not from Izabella anyway.

  She opened her phone and started to type a message to Gregor. She’d found herself thinking about him quite often over the days since Ellie’s wake. She knew he’d be doing the same, of course. But for once he’d been restrained in showing it. Jenna wondered if tactics ever entered his thinking and then chastised herself for thinking that way. Of course he might … and wouldn't that mean he really wanted them to be together and was trying to find a way? Not that she’d ever really doubted it.

  She settled on no more than ‘how are you … what’s up?’ as an opener, then clicked send. It was difficult to know how friendly to be, given how hard it’d been to leave him behind in Plockton when she finally took the delayed plunge to study in Inverness. She really, really didn’t want to mislead him. Right now, though, she wasn't sure where she was leading herself. Or who was leading her. Or where. Maybe she’d texted him out of guilt.

  Another couple of small beers followed. She was getting tired now, but didn’t want to leave the bar counter … and Izabella’s increasing attention. She had to draw a line at some point, though … and Calum would expect her to be ready by nine in the morning.

  ‘Can I get the bill to sign please?’

  Her waitress nodded. She looked disappointed but got on with it.

  She placed the receipt on a plate with a pen and edged it towards Jenna.

  Jenna picked up the pen and scribbled her signature across it. Her hand was strangely wobbly.

  ‘Thanks.’ Izabella put one hand on the plate, sliding it away, as she put the other briefly on Jenna’s hand on the bar counter.

  ‘Goodnight. Hope to see you tomorrow, Jenna.’ Jenna looked down, moved away then glanced back at the bar.

  ‘Goodnight. Yes, tomorrow. Izabella.’

  ‘Everyone calls me Iza.’

  ‘OK.’

  Jenna squeezed a little smile out as she turned away again, feeling her face flush warm. Suddenly, her bedroom couldn’t come fast enough.

  *

  Jenna flopped down on the mattress and turned onto her back, sighing, rolling her eyes in the dark. She felt her heart beating fast. She was excited … and confused. She searched for some kind of answer to the multitude of questions circling in her head.

  The only thing she kept coming back to, in the long time before she fell asleep, was why she’d always wanted to peck the girls, rather than the boys when they played kiss-chase at primary school. And she didn’t have an answer. Not only that, there was the thing with Caroline Meredith. That caused a stir at school and in a tiny, parochial place like Plockton, everyone knew about it. She wondered if it had all been forgotten or whether people still eyed her with two minds. Gregor had never mentioned it. Too scared to probably, she smiled to herself. For a fleeting moment, she felt sad for him.

  With some difficulty, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, to try and concentrate on what was exciting her more about the next day. What could she do to get the case moved further on? The only thing she came up with, was something she’d proved herself good at in previous cases. Casing a joint. And getting in illegally if needed, to see what she could find. But she needed an address first.

  The book thief

  ____________________________

  Jenna and Calum met for breakfast at eight-thirty the following morning. Calum was picking over the buffet for low-fat items as usual.

  ‘Maybe they’ll do you an egg white omelette?’

  ‘Maybe. I didn’t ask so far, just had toast and some smoked fish.’

  ‘Bacon looks great, though, doesn't it? Think I’ll slip a couple of rashers into some hot buttery toast.’ She loved teasing him.

  ‘Your arteries can start clogging up from the day you’re born, you know,’ he sai
d dourly, grabbing some more toast and heading off for the omelette station.

  Once they’d sat down with some calories in front of them, Calum declared he would take a walk along the river for some inspiration. It seemed sleeping on the problem of the next step had just buried it deeper. He asked Jenna if she could continue with Sarah’s research papers while he was gone.

  ‘Got enough to keep you going still?’

  ‘Yup. Looking forward to it.’

  He gave her a mock sour look and downed the last of his coffee. ‘You’re good at it. Later then.’

  Jenna looked down at the remaining half of a bacon sandwich, picked it up and chewed it lovingly, as she thought through her day’s work. It didn’t include too much time sitting going through the research papers, though. The first thing on her agenda was the address.

  *

  It turned out to be easier than she had thought. Beata Sandor was listed in the phone directory together with her address. She just needed to check the librarian was at work then go for broke.

  ‘Yes, I want to speak to Ms Sandor, sorry my Hungarian is not good, well, I don’t speak the language at all.’

  She was put through after a short delay.

  ‘Hello, this is Beata Sandor. How can I help?’

  Jenna dropped the call. Good, the coast was clear.

  *

  The address necessitated a metro ride up north of the city centre to Ujpest, then a few streets walk. She was soon there. The house stood on a quiet street, full of similar houses. Post-war build, faded paintwork, a motley collection of broken, rusty railings and scrubland between the closely-built dwellings. There seemed to be no garage nearby that she could see, but there was space enough between the houses to walk down and round the back of the ones adjacent to number 306.

  The issue was, it was broad daylight. So she needed to be really careful about neighbours.

  She walked slowly down the right-hand side of the house, trying to look casually around, searching for windows overlooking her and the house.

  A high wall extended straight down from the side of the main house and ran for thirty yards or so. She got to the end of it and turned left along a back wall, where there was a gate a few yards up.

  There was little by way of vantage points of her from the neighbouring houses, only a bathroom on the side of one, and the bedroom windows looking down at the back. Mostly low risk in the daytime, she thought, so she tried the gate. It gave a little but seemed stuck. She slipped her hand over, stood on her tiptoes and with her fingertips managed to feel a bolt at the top. She slid it across and moved smartly into the back garden of the house.

  She crouched down immediately.

  There were large windows on the ground floor looking out onto the garden. No signs of life … but she had no idea if Beata had any family living with her. So, approaching the house was a risk. She scuttled to a back corner of the garden, near to a swing, and then worked slowly up the side wall to the corner of the house. She dared a couple of glances through the back windows before walking up the side to a back door. Locked, of course.

  Jenna was good at finding handy tips on YouTube, though. A simple old-fashioned rim lock wasn’t going to be a problem and she had some makeshift tools to get her in. It took her a couple of minutes or so, but then the lock slipped back and she quietly opened the door. No alarm so far … and no sign of a dog, in the kitchen at least.

  She moved carefully through the house, making no noise, but it was soon clear it was empty … and she found the room she was looking for … a study lined with books from floor to ceiling along the whole of the back wall, behind an imposing old desk, then more texts along one of the side walls, facing the garden window.

  She looked at the literary leviathan in front of her and sighed. This could take some time. Whilst she had the Hungarian title she was looking for written down on a scrap of paper, there were a lot of spines to look through, not all the same way up, either, so she was going to get neck ache and light-headed if she didn’t find it quickly.

  After ten minutes of looking, she rubbed her neck and resigned herself to a long haul. She’d only done twenty per cent of the titles she reckoned: the language recognition, or lack of it, was slowing her down; it would have been faster if they were English titles.

  It was only late morning, though, she should have plenty of time still.

  But a different clock had begun ticking. And it was running faster than hers.

  *

  Next door, Aron Kis had been settling down, finally, to some college work. It had been a struggle to get out of bed today. His mother had brought him some tea before she left at seven-thirty, but he'd gone back to sleep after she’d gone for the day.

  For some reason, he could only sleep properly in the morning, the night time just didn't quite work for him. His mother told him it was his age and he would grow out of it, but that he'd better get some decent grades or else he'd get no more cups of tea in bed. At least that was one person who loved him.

  As he got out of bed and stretched and yawned, he caught sight of a pretty girl he'd not seen before. She was in the garden next door, walking slowly up towards the house. Nice. He could go for her. He suddenly realised he was staring out of the window naked and pulled back a little, then she disappeared from his view. Hey, he'd keep a look out for her again, though. Maybe Mrs Sandor had a new lodger, as she did sometimes.

  He moved to the bathroom to clean his teeth. Through the frosted glass, he could make out the girl’s shape at next door’s back entrance. There was a scratching noise going on. Sounded like her key didn’t fit, but he couldn't make her out properly through the opaque glass. Shame, he’d have liked another look at her.

  When she was still there after he’d finished his teeth, though, he started to wonder why she hadn’t got in the house yet. With that thought, he heard a click, then her blurred image was gone from view.

  It was after a leisurely breakfast and two cups of coffee that he decided to sit out in the garden and read something for college. He grabbed an economics textbook, more as a style statement than a firm intent to work and sauntered outside, pulling up an old folding chair by the back door. In that sheltered spot, it was warm enough to sit out in the sunshine with a jumper on and he preferred the fresh air.

  Thirty minutes later, he'd stared at the same page a few times and begun to read it but somehow he kept drifting back to the start of the page to re-read what he’d already forgotten. It was so hard to get started in the mornings. He put the book on the ground by the side of the chair, with some relief that he'd decided it wasn't for now. He stood up, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets and breathed deeply, surveying the garden.

  Out of the corner of his eye, a movement flicked past. He turned and saw the girl from earlier in the study room next door, pulling books from the shelves. She was facing away from him and his gaze was drawn to her pert bottom. He stole forward for a slightly closer look. He got to the fence and rested both his forearms along its top, leaning forward and enjoying his view.

  She turned quite suddenly to put a book on the desk behind her and as she did so she had obviously caught sight of him.

  A sharp step back and up from the desk was followed by an even quicker withdrawal from his line of sight. She was up to something. He knew Mrs Sandor quite well, she'd always been kind to him when he was little, giving him biscuits, that kind of thing. Especially after her daughter had disappeared, so he felt obliged to investigate.

  He went up the garden to a wooden crate stood by the fence and used it to hop up and over into next door’s drive.

  He tried the back door … open. He walked into the kitchen quietly, peering through the kitchen door into the hallway, which led to the study. He couldn’t see all the way into that room, so he stepped slowly through into the hall and leant around the study door.

  He was startled to see a pile of books on the desk and an open window. He dived at the window and fell out through it, scampering back up to his fee
t and running up the drive to the road.

  He could see the back of the girl, sprinting away from him, holding a backpack under her arm. Making an instant decision, he ran hard after her.

  *

  It had been a boring but nervy task looking through all the spines, so there was a guarded euphoria when she found one with a similar title to the one she’d been looking for. Similar, but not quite right.

  Jenna turned to put it down on the desk to have a good look through it. It was then that she saw the boy … and he was looking straight at her. When he moved at speed up the garden, she knew he was coming after her. She whacked the book shut, shoved it into her rucksack and thought quickly. There would be no time to get out the front door, he’d cut her off. She looked at the window, Just a simple latch. She opened it with a quiet smoothness, worried about making any noise that might trigger him to run around to the window rather than the back door.

  She hopped out after a quick look and ran down the garden, looking over her shoulder for a sight of him. She sped through the gate, hanging a right, pirouetting on the right-hand gate frame and shot across the back of three adjacent houses before cutting back up to the road.

  She ran, harder than she had ever done in her life. She almost fell down the steps of the metro station. It was only then that she dared a glance backwards … her heart sank when she saw him twenty yards back up the steps, eyes fixed directly on her.

  The shoes

  ____________________________

  Calum walked slowly along the side of the Danube for a couple of hours after breakfast. He was lost in thought around the case, intertwined with flashes of his daughter’s funeral. It was like a stream of black water that kept burbling up and touching him with its chill. As he walked with his head down, he saw a pair of shoes just ahead of him. Then another pair. He stopped and looked up. There were scores of them along the side of the river. He realised they weren’t real, but made from some type of metal. Iron.