Lying and Dying

by Graham Brack

  Slonský slowly walked around the table to inspect the body from all sides.

  ‘I wonder why they didn’t make it a round two hundred and fifty thousand? It would have been a smaller bundle of notes for a start.’

  ‘Maybe that number means something, sir. Like the price of something, or a loan repaid.’

  ‘Nice idea, Navrátil. Of course, it may just have been her life savings, but she isn’t much older than you. Have you got two hundred thousand in the bank?’

  ‘No, sir! Nowhere near. I’d have to work for over a year to earn that, and by the time I’d paid my rent —’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got the point. I’ve worked a lot longer than you and that would be a very welcome sum for my savings. Novák, on the other hand, probably makes that each month.’

  ‘I wish,’ the pathologist muttered.

  ‘So, we’ve got a young lady who has somehow managed to put together a nice little nest egg which she keeps safe by shoving it up her whatsit.’

  ‘No, someone else shoved it up her whatsit. She was already dead. And you haven’t given me a handbag, so I’m assuming there wasn’t one there.’

  ‘You assume correctly. While you’re deducing you wouldn’t like to tell me who she is and who did it?’

  ‘No, that’s your job. But I may have a little extra help for you. When we extracted the money I was able to do the usual little extras, and one of those tells me that there had been recent sexual activity.’

  ‘How recent?’

  ‘Very. Last night, I’d say. And my trusty little swab has collected a nice sample of semen, so I can do a DNA test. If you ever catch a suspect, I should be able to tell you if you’ve got a match.’

  ‘She didn’t use a condom, then.’

  ‘No. But she seems free of germs, so I don’t think she was a prostitute. You can’t be certain, but there’s no sign of a lot of use down there.’

  Slonský’s flippancy evaporated as he knelt at the victim’s head.

  ‘Navrátil, would you do me a favour? Nip out into the corridor and find me a good-looking woman in her twenties or thirties.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I take it you’ve got one or two in this God-forsaken place, Novák?’

  ‘Depends what you want them for. But yes, there are a few.’

  Navrátil realised that he was not going to receive an explanation, and did as he was asked. In the reception area he found the receptionist and her supervisor, and asked the supervisor to mind the desk while he borrowed the receptionist. He had to offer his police identity card for close inspection before they agreed and he was able to conduct her to the mortuary.

  Navrátil held the door open and followed her in, which put him in the perfect place to impede her running away when she saw the body on the slab.

  ‘Don’t mind her, she won’t bite,’ said Slonský. ‘You’ve seen a naked woman before, I’m sure.’

  ‘Is she … dead?’

  Slonský considered his answer carefully.

  ‘She’s certainly a bit under the weather. But I’m no doctor, you’ll have to ask Novák.’

  Novák tutted.

  ‘What I’d like you to do, miss, is come round here next to me and look carefully at this woman’s hair. Now, I know very little about hair, but I reckon that’s a pretty expensive hairdo. She’s got those little red stripey bits hidden in the middle —’

  ‘Highlights,’ offered the receptionist.

  ‘Exactly. And I’ve seen a few of those, and there’s not many people tone them in as well as this lot. Am I right?’

  The receptionist looked closely. As she bent over she inhaled sharply.

  ‘French perfume,’ she said. ‘I’m not exactly sure which one but it’s not cheap.’

  ‘Excellent! Keep going!’

  ‘Well, her nails are well kept, except for that broken one.’

  Novák held up the hand.

  ‘Broken in a struggle. She had tiny chips of leather under the nails, as if she had clawed the back of a pair of gloves.’

  ‘Not unreasonable if you’re being strangled. Carry on.’

  ‘I don’t think she does much in the way of housework. No wedding ring, see?’

  Novák held up another bag.

  ‘This gold cross and chain were in her clothes. I think they were probably wrenched off as she was attacked.’

  The woman looked closely at the jewellery.

  ‘Again, that’s not cheap. It’s real gold, not plated. Nice stuff! I’ve never had anything like this. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen one like it in the shops in Prague.’

  ‘We can tout it round a few jewellers, Navrátil,’ Slonský said. ‘See if anyone knows where she could have got it.’

  ‘The same goes for her earrings,’ declared the receptionist. ‘Not garnet or opal like most of us. Hoops with two real diamonds. She must have had a well-paid job.’

  ‘You don’t think she’s a whore?’ asked Slonský conversationally.

  The young woman recoiled from the body.

  ‘Is she? No, she can’t be. I mean, I know she’s got a few nice things, but she doesn’t look … easy.’

  ‘Dead people rarely do. And even a tart is somebody’s daughter.’

  ‘But if she was … like that, wouldn’t her boss have taken the good jewellery off her?’

  ‘They’re called pimps and you’re absolutely right. That stuff wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in the lap-dancing places. I suppose she could be a hotel escort, in which event we’re stuffed because no hotel is going to admit that she ever set foot in the place.’

  ‘We could ask for the security videos,’ Navrátil suggested, pleased that a sensible idea had come to him.

  ‘We could,’ agreed Slonský, ‘and you can spend many a happy afternoon watching hours of people going in and out of doors. The thing is, Navrátil, that it takes the best part of twenty-four hours to watch twenty-four hours of live action video. We can do that if we can find a hotel that looks a likely prospect.’

  The receptionist was inspecting the victim’s toes.

  ‘Nasty corn there. Badly fitting shoes, I suppose.’

  Novák reached behind himself to retrieve a plastic crate.

  ‘The very shoes.’

  The receptionist cooed.

  ‘They’re nice! I wouldn’t mind some like that. Italian leather slingbacks.’

  Slonský beamed.

  ‘Pay attention, Navrátil. You’re going to have to put all this technical stuff in your report. That’s a good expert you’ve found us.’

  The receptionist smiled at Navrátil, who blushed slightly.

  ‘They’re not new,’ she said. ‘The heel is worn down. I couldn’t walk in these without a bit of practice. They’re quite high.’

  ‘Can you tell the size?’ asked Slonský.

  ‘Thirty-eight,’ said Novák. ‘Did it with callipers. You can’t read it on the inside.’

  ‘What about the brand?’

  ‘It’s not easy to read, but it looks like something or other Gozzi.’

  ‘Alberto Gozzi?’ asked the receptionist. ‘You wouldn’t get them for under five thousand. There aren’t many places in Prague you can get those.’ She pondered for a moment. ‘I’ve seen them in a place in the New Town, somewhere along Na Příkopě.’

  ‘Write that down, Navrátil! It’ll save you a lot of walking later.’

  Within a few minutes Navrátil’s notebook was filled with addresses of hairdressers, jewellers and shoeshops that might possibly have equipped the young lady, and the receptionist, suitably flattered by Slonský’s encomiums on her intelligence and powers of observation, returned to her post to discuss her half-hour with anyone who would listen.

  ‘Get on to headquarters, Navrátil. They’ve got a tame artist they use. Ask him to draw the girl with her eyes open. We can’t put her picture in the paper looking like this. No rush, so long as he gets it done by tonight.’

  Slonský swept out of the room without any acknowledgement o
f Novák.

  ‘Is he always like this?’ asked Navrátil.

  ‘No,’ conceded Novák. ‘Sometimes he can be quite brusque.’

  Navrátil expected to go straight out on his tour of the shops, but Slonský restrained him.

  ‘Waste of effort until you get a photo, lad. Unless, of course, they’ve only ever sold one pair of shoes or done one hairdo. This is going to be a long day, so we’d best fortify ourselves with a bit of lunch. I’m off out for a sausage and a beer. Coming?’

  ‘I’m not hungry yet, sir.’

  ‘Suit yourself, but don’t come running to me if you die of starvation. If anything urgent comes up, I’m at the café on the corner.’

  He remained at the café on the corner for nearly two hours, and had not returned when Captain Lukas wandered into the office.

  ‘On your own, Navrátil? Where’s Slonský?’

  ‘Gone to lunch, sir, but he suggested one of us ought to stay by a phone in case the artist had finished his picture.’

  ‘Really? Well, I hope Slonský remembers you need a lunch break too. I don’t want my trainees fainting in the street. Tell the lieutenant I’d like a verbal report when he returns.’

  Slonský appeared behind Lukas in the doorway.

  ‘No need, sir. I can do it now.’

  ‘Ah, good! Well, how is it going?’

  ‘The dead person is a woman, sir, with a quarter of a million crowns in a plastic bag up her private parts.’

  Lukas’ mouth opened and closed several times.

  ‘That is extraordinary!’

  ‘I’m not sure, sir. For all we know there may be women all over Prague with their life savings between their legs.’

  Lukas frowned.

  ‘Your flippancy is misplaced, as always, Slonský. This is a very serious affair.’

  ‘Murder always is, sir. She was strangled somewhere else, taken to Holešovice by car and dumped near the mainline station. We don’t have an identification yet but young Navrátil here showed great initiative by asking a receptionist at the hospital where the victim could have bought her clothes, and as soon as he has a likeness to work with, he’ll be trawling indefatigably round town.’

  Lukas beamed at the young policeman, who was blushing at the unexpected and unwarranted praise.

  ‘Well done, Navrátil. I can see I was right to pair you with this old warhorse. Keep me posted, Slonský!’

  He swept out of the door with the grace of a poorly hitched caravan.

  ‘Why did you tell him it was my idea, sir?’

  ‘Because I don’t need the praise and you do. Captain Lukas is an honest man and a fair cop, but he’s a shallow as a dried-up puddle. Never embarrass him, never let him down and try as hard as you can never to tell him anything you don’t want the world to know. Now, any word from Novák?’

  ‘Not yet, sir.’

  ‘Damn! We don’t need a work of art, just a good likeness. Hand me the phone, lad.’

  Slonský dialled Novák’s number and chatted briefly with the pathologist.

  ‘He says the artist is there but it’ll be another hour or two yet, Navrátil. Come on, we’re off to the metro station at Holešovice.’

  ‘Can I ask why, sir?’

  ‘We’re going to speak to the rough sleepers there.’

  ‘There weren’t any, sir, or we’d have talked to them this morning.’

  Slonský stopped in his tracks, turned and sighed deeply.

  ‘Now, Navrátil, I’ve built you up as a bright lad and you do this to me. Of course there weren’t any rough sleepers there this morning. Who turned up first?’

  ‘The squad car, sir.’

  ‘Exactly. So when a car turns up with “Police” written on its side, what are rough sleepers going to do? Scarper! Only a dimwit would hang around to be arrested.’

  ‘But if they’d seen anything, wouldn’t they have reported it?’

  ‘They might. But they’re not supposed to be there, they may not have the money for a phone call, and they might be worried that the killer would turn on them. Having said all that, it was a cold night and I guess they squeezed under the canopy at the bus station side to keep out of the wind, so they wouldn’t be able to see the parking area fifty metres down the hill. But if we’re lucky one of them might have seen a car, and it’s the only lead we’ve got, so get your skates on.’

  The homeless men seemed to know Slonský and were relaxed when he approached, though a little suspicious of Navrátil.

  ‘Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ Slonský announced. ‘I’m not interested in giving you any trouble. I need some help.’ He waved his badge at nobody in particular. ‘A young woman was found strangled down the hill there early this morning, and don’t tell me you didn’t know that.’

  ‘We didn’t,’ one protested, ‘but we knew it was something important when the uniformed guys didn’t chase us off. Even so, best not be around. Police and homeless don’t mix.’

  ‘I couldn’t give a toss about that. More important things than moving you on.’ He counted heads, turned to Navrátil and shoved a banknote in his hand. ‘Navrátil, get some coffee for us all, will you? There’s a place in the station.’

  The men nodded their appreciation.

  ‘What I need to know is when the body was dumped and if anyone saw a car that might have done it.’

  The small group stamped their feet to keep warm and shrugged their shoulders. Nobody had seen the body dumped, and cars had run past all night, so that was no help at all. Slonský was not surprised, but he had hoped that there might be some chance of a step forward in the investigation.

  Navrátil handed out the coffees, and the men grabbed them in their frozen hands, wrapping long, blue fingers around them. The braver ones took a sip of the scalding, tarry liquid.

  ‘I don’t know…’ began a young one with a tattoo of a snake wrapped round his neck.

  ‘Yes?’ asked Slonský.

  ‘Well, it might have nothing to do with it, but there was a big German car that came by around two or half past two.’

  ‘German?’

  ‘BMW or Merc. Didn’t really look too closely. I think it was beige or some similar colour. Anyway, I saw it come over the bridge and towards us here, then as it went past us it seemed to be slowing down. I didn’t watch where it went, but I thought from the engine noise that it must have parked somewhere nearby.’

  ‘What did you think they stopped for?’

  ‘I guessed they were … courting.’

  ‘You mean shagging?’

  ‘Maybe. Anyway, there was no point in spying on them, because after a minute or so the car drove off again. But I didn’t hear any other car slow down near us.’

  The others furrowed their brows as if weighing his story against their own experience. One lifted his cap and scratched his head as if thinking was an unnatural act.

  ‘There was a truck around one o’clock.’

  ‘Closed truck or pick-up?’ asked Slonský.

  ‘Pick-up. Something written on the side but I couldn’t read it from here. But I think the driver was on his own. He stopped at the bend down the hill but he didn’t turn his engine off.’

  Slonský smiled broadly.

  ‘Thanks, fellas. I knew I could count on you.’

  He waved goodbye and led Navrátil back to the metro.

  ‘Shouldn’t we take statements, sir?’

  ‘They won’t give them, Navrátil, and if we’d asked we’d have got nowhere. What would we use them for? If we find our killer, identifying his car isn’t going to be the key to nailing him. But at least we’ve got a plausible time and a possible car.’

  ‘Shall I ask the motor licensing authorities to give us lists of owners of beige BMWs and Mercedes?’

  ‘Navrátil, do you like watching paint dry? There’ll be thousands, and we can’t say for sure it was beige. Let’s find our man, then corroborate our suspicions with these snippets.’

  The officer at the main desk had an envelope for Slon
ský when they returned to the station.

  ‘What do you think, lad? Good likeness?’

  ‘I’d recognise her in the street.’

  ‘Doubt you’ll see her there now, but it’ll do us nicely. Be a little angel and run it over to the publicity department so they can get it in the papers for the morning. They’ll want some flannel so tell them where she was found but leave it at that. What we want is big headlines saying “Did you know this woman?”. Then go home — we’ve done enough for today and we’re going to need all the rest we can get. See you here at seven tomorrow.’

  Navrátil nodded and disappeared through the double doors, leaving Slonský leaning against the front desk.

  ‘How’s he doing?’ asked Sergeant Mucha.

  ‘Navrátil? He’s all right. Got to learn to pace himself though. You get nowhere rushing.’

  Slonský dumped his battered hat on his head, shrugged the coat back onto his shoulders, and turned towards the door.

  ‘Fortunately he has the great advantage of having me to show him the ropes.’

  The portrait duly appeared in the Prague newspapers, though it achieved less prominence in some than Slonský would have liked, prompting him to remark that a photograph of the naked corpse would certainly have made the front page in that kind of rag.

  Navrátil occupied himself in a tour of the shops, clutching a single shoe in a plastic evidence bag and the jewellery in another. He found a jeweller who recognised the cross and chain, but admitted that he had sold a few recently and could not remember to whom. However, he had only had them in stock within the last year. Another thought it possible that he might have sold the earrings but was unable to say when or to whom, and it was with a sense of disappointment and failure that Navrátil reported back to Slonský in the evening.

  ‘Can’t say, or won’t say?’ Slonský demanded.

  ‘He said he couldn’t,’ replied Navrátil.

  ‘That’s what his mouth said,’ Slonský muttered. ‘What did his eyes say?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘You’ll have to learn to watch the eyes, Navrátil. You see, lad, villains lie. I’ve complained about it to Captain Lukas, but that’s just the way it is. It’s not like detective novels when you accuse a man and he stretches his arms out all ready for the cuffs and tells you it’s a fair cop.’