Innocence; or, Murder on Steep Street

by Heda Margolius Kovály

  “You have to admit—it’s hardly a life: meeting in secret, an hour or two a day, when you could have your own home, a family even, vacations—the whole kit and caboodle. What do you say?”

  Marie just sat silently.

  “Now listen carefully, miss. I just popped out of the office for a moment and can’t stay long. So let’s settle this thing right now. I’ve come in all sincerity to offer you my husband’s hand. Look. I’ve been with him nineteen years. He’s gone through so many young ladies in that time I’d need a card catalog to keep track of them all. I was eighteen when I married Václav. I knew as much about life as a horse knows about holy water. Next thing I knew I had two little kids and things weren’t so simple anymore. Once or twice a year I’d get up the courage to say maybe we should get a divorce, but he would always act so surprised and offended, and say how sorry he was, that I gave up. He couldn’t understand why I wasn’t happy. After all, he was a good-looking guy, brought home the bacon, was respected at work. When I mentioned the young ladies, he was appalled that I’d be so petty as to break up the family and take our kids’ father away over such a silly thing. He wouldn’t hear of it. And so on it went. He did what he wanted, I did what he wanted, and our happiness was complete. When he came home at the end of the day, all worn out from one of his dates, I was right there waiting for him, the whole flat spick-and-span, shirts washed and ironed, socks darned, so he’d always look sweet as a rose for the ladies.”

  She paused to shoot a questioning glance at Marie, as if expecting her to acknowledge what a devoted wife she had been. But Marie just sat there. Mrs. Nedomová leaned in toward her and continued in a confidential tone:

  “There’s nothing really manly about these Don Juan types at all, you know. They’re just little boys who refuse to grow up. They want to romp around the sandbox, then go home to their mommy who adores and admires them, even if they’re still peeing their pants at fifty. That’s why so few of them are bachelors, even though it would seem to make sense from a logical point of view. But they can’t bear the thought of living without their mommy, waiting for them with open arms even when they’re drunk as a skunk. Young ladies come and young ladies go, but a mother’s love is forever. Anyway, to cut to the chase, Miss Vránová, my daughters are growing up, so I think it’s high time my little boy found himself a wife. You’ve been with him long enough to fill my shoes, so I can go into retirement and take care of myself for a change. I’ve got a good job, decent pay. I could even afford to chip in assuming you managed to swing it so that he married you and gave me a divorce on good terms. He wouldn’t have to know a thing. He’s a handsome man, high status—you could end up with worse. He is getting on in years. It’s a tiring lifestyle, you know? But marriage is a serious matter, I realize, you need to think it through. Just think quick. This is a solid offer and if you don’t make up your mind soon, I’ll go look somewhere else. Here’s the phone number to my office, so let me know. Good-bye for now. If we make a deal soon, for your wedding I’ll get you one of those rugs from the hard currency stores.”

  She laid her calling card on the table, stood up, scanned the room one more time, smiled sweetly again, and walked out the door.

  Marie just sat staring at the ground a while. Finally she took a deep sigh, got up, and opened the wardrobe. First she dug out a hard cardboard box from the bottommost shelf and a pair of slightly worn men’s slippers. She took a checkered bathrobe and two yellowing shirts from the hangers. She went to the bathroom and brought out a small pile of toiletries, then took everything and packed it up in the box. She wrapped the box in a piece of crumpled wrapping paper and tied it with string. She carefully wrote the address out in big block letters, put the box in a string bag, and laid it on the table. She would stop off at the post office on her way to work tomorrow.

  Helena and Šípek exited through the zoo side gate. The staff had already locked the main entrance, all of the visitors were long gone, and the twilight rang with the excited shrieks of animals being fed.

  “You think they’re sad?” Helena asked. “You think they wish they were free?”

  “Not most of them, I don’t think. Experts agree that animals are almost like people when it comes to that. As long as they’ve got a nice place to live and something to keep them entertained, they can do without freedom. In a good zoo, where they’re well-fed and have a chance to socialize, most animals are happier than they would be, as one scholar put it, in lonely and dangerous freedom.”

  They reached the parking lot, where a boxy Tatra, three or four years older than Helena, sat waiting. It had been ingeniously patched up, stitched together, and coated in a lacquer of the finest burgundy. Its owner had clearly expended a tremendous amount of love and care on it, over the course of many years. Šípek proudly opened the door and helped Helena climb inside. He settled in behind the wheel, seeming a little nervous, but the engine fired on the fourth turn of the key.

  “There. Now let’s go for dinner. I know a nice little pub by the river. The schnitzels there are so big they don’t even fit on your plate. We can sit under a tree in the garden and have a beer. That’s my idea of perfect bliss right now. But, say, I’m not tiring you out or boring you with all my talk, am I?”

  “Me?” Helena laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I had such a nice afternoon. I’d even given up on the idea that it was possible.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s possible every Sunday you have off. And other things are possible too. Next time I can borrow a boat from my friend and row you down to Bráník . . .”

  “Oh no. Not a chance. You’re too nice. I would just be taking advantage of you. But thank you so much for today. It’s been lovely. You know, otherwise I would have just . . .”

  “I know. It’s been a lovely day.”

  There were only four tables in the garden at the riverside pub. At one of them sat an elderly couple, the man in a yellow open-necked shirt, a little pinched around the waist, the woman squeezed into a blue-and-white-striped cotton dress. Both of them had rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes like geese, and white hair. They sat silently over their half-liter mugs, radiating peace and contentment like heat from a stone. As Helena took the last bite of her enormous schnitzel and lifted her eyes from the plate, she saw the man put his hand on top of his wife’s and stroke her wrinkled skin. Without even exchanging a glance the two of them smiled, as if at some long-ago memory.

  I wonder if someday that will be me and Karel, Helena thought.

  “It’s so nice here, isn’t it?” she said quickly, her voice slightly hoarse. “I just love summer nights. When I was little, we lived in an old block of flats with a balcony. A huge acacia tree grew out in front, and in summer sometimes I would sneak out to the balcony at night and sit huddled up in my nightgown. The acacia smelled gorgeous, and I would listen to the birds with their nest in there, cheeping away.”

  “Just wait till we get out on the water sometime. When it gets dark we can pull ashore and make a little fire. Evening on the river is truly a thing of beauty, you’ll see. Everything will collapse someday. Buildings, bridges, machines—it can all disappear in seconds, but the elements—water, earth, air, fire—those are what will remain. Sitting by a campfire on the river, it’s like rubbing up against eternity for a while.”

  The first gusts of cool wind off the river rustled the treetops. The bells in the church on the hilltop sounded quietly, as if they too were swaying in the breeze.

  Helena bent her head over the red checkered tablecloth. “I’m sure it would be wonderful. But try to understand, I can’t. Karel is my man, my one and only, I’m closer to him than anyone else in the world. And he’s in such a jam. Every morning when I get out of bed and see my clean white sheets I feel like a traitor. When I sit down to a nice lunch, I wonder what gives me the right to live this way when Karel . . . At first I couldn’t stop thinking about how to help him. Now I’ve made my peace with the fact there
’s nothing I can do. Except wait.”

  “Maybe the best way to help him is to live as normally as possible. I sometimes try to imagine how I would feel in Karel’s place. What I would expect from my wife. And I know I wouldn’t want her to worry herself to death before I got back.”

  “But you probably also wouldn’t want her sitting around a campfire by the riverside with another man,” Helena laughed.

  “That’s the question,” Šípek said. “Most of all, I think I would want her to be well, for both our sakes. It goes without saying how much I would hope she waited for me and didn’t find someone else in the meantime.” He paused, looked into Helena’s eyes, and gave a sad little grin. “But I wouldn’t want her to forsake all pleasure. To make her life a prison sentence out of loyalty to me. It’s just that—it’s hard to say what a person would think in a situation he can’t even imagine. And an even bigger question is whether what a person thinks or wants can be binding on anyone else. After all, whether we like it or not, we decide for ourselves. And we shouldn’t do to ourselves what we would never dream of doing to somebody else.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Helena said. “Really.”

  It was just the two of them in the little garden now. The leaves on the trees had merged with the black sky and the air smelled pungently of the river.

  “I’ll think about it hard. I need to. Lately I’m starting to realize that a person who’s unhappy isn’t only unpleasant but a danger to their surroundings,” Helena said. “But you know what? Why don’t we take a walk down the embankment now, and you can tell me some of your animal stories. Maybe it will help me feel a little more human. And nothing sad or educational, please. It really has been a lovely day.”

  8

  “Good evening, Mrs. Kouřimská,” said a tall, slim man in a beige suit, grinning wide. His hair was flecked with gray, his bony face was tanned brown, and he wore a gaudy tie bearing a family crest.

  Mrs. Kouřimská beamed back. “Why, Mr. Hrůza, what a coincidence! We haven’t seen each other in ages. How have you been?”

  “Not bad. How about yourself? Since when are you in the movies?”

  “Not long. It’s only been six months since I embarked on my staggering career,” Mrs. Kouřimská replied coquettishly.

  “So how do you like it?”

  “Oh, it’s all right. But I don’t come to work for fun. A job’s a job. The main thing is to kill some time. But tell me, what have you been up to all these years?”

  Ládinka nudged Helena with her elbow and pointed her double chin down the aisle. “Get a load of Marilyn Kouřimská flutterin’ over that hunk of man. I’m tellin’ you, she puts us all to shame.”

  “I’ve had a feeling about her since day one,” Marie chimed in.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just . . . how can I put it? Like she’s a sex fiend, but not your everyday average one. I don’t know. There’s somethin’ funny about her.”

  Ládinka dashed off to the other side of the house. The movie was starting in just a few minutes and ticketholders were streaming through every door, the gaps in the rows of faces rapidly filling in. A second before the lights went down, the auditorium floor had condensed into a solid geometric plane. It was a sold-out show. One by one the ushers made their way out to the lobby.

  “Hey, Mrs. Kouřimská, where’d you bag that hulk? You can tell us,” said Marie.

  “I should have known you’d notice, Marie,” Kouřimská snapped haughtily. Clearly she was pleased to attract the younger women’s envy and couldn’t resist raising the stakes. She looked around to make sure all the other ushers were in earshot. “In fact, not only is he a looker,” she said importantly, “he’s also a man it pays to know.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt you there,” said Marie. “A fella like that must come in real handy, especially if you’re in tight with him.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean it like that,” said Mrs. Kouřimská. “You may not believe it, Marie, but most people live, at least occasionally, outside of bed as well. And this gentleman happens to be a big shot at the ministry. He’s got his fingers in every pie. I happen to know because I have a friend whose fabric shop ran a huge loss, and if it hadn’t been for Mr. Hrůza she probably would have gotten ten years.”

  “So what did this friend of yours do for her?” Helena asked.

  “There’s always a way to deal with these things. Naturally nobody discusses them in public. All I know is he was a good friend of hers, and when she turned to him for help, he got the whole thing kicked under the rug. She paid a fine and that was it. Don’t ask me how he did it. I just know my friend says he’s got his fingers in every pie and no one ever tells him no.”

  “God forbid!” said Marie. “I’d never say no to him either, even if he wasn’t at the ministry.” She slapped a fistful of change down on the concession counter. “Líba, fork over a box of those bonbons,” she said. “The little one.”

  Mrs. Kouřimská slowly made her way back to the cloakroom. Helena stood clenching the flashlight in her pocket.

  “Mrs. Kouřimská, please, wait a minute,” Helena said, chasing her down as she opened the door to the cloakroom.

  “Yes, what is it?” Mrs. Kouřimská asked, turning around.

  “Could I talk to you for a moment?”

  “Why, of course. What can I do for you?”

  “Would you mind sitting here in the cloakroom? The boss won’t notice. She’s in there with the accountant. There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

  They went in and sat down on the hard, uncomfortable bench. Helena nervously lit up a smoke. Where on earth to begin . . . ?

  “Helena, what’s wrong? Is it anything I can help with?” Mrs. Kouřimská said warmly.

  “No, thanks, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just—this is embarrassing, but . . . I mean, we hardly know each other, but I was hoping you could do me a favor and . . .” Helena trailed off, giving her a pleading look.

  “Out with it, Helena, what’s going on? I’m happy to do whatever I can. I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not impossible.”

  “Well, do you think you might introduce me to Mr. Hrůza? I mean, since you say he’s got all that influence, and I—I could use some help. As you probably know, my husband . . .”

  “Why, of course. It’s hardly a secret. And you know what, you’re right. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but in your situation it could come in handy to know someone like him. Just to be clear, all I know is what I already told you. He isn’t a close friend, just an acquaintance. But I can certainly introduce you.”

  “That would really be kind of you,” Helena said. “How do you think we could set it up?”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll just wait for him after the show and you can stand here chatting with me. I’m sure as soon as he sees you, he’ll want to get to know you. He’s got an eye for attractive women.”

  “I hope you understand, Mrs. Kouřimská. I’m not Marie. That’s not what I’m after. I just want to help my husband.”

  “I know that, Helena. But I have to warn you: Even a chicken doesn’t scratch for free. I’m not telling you anything new, am I?”

  Helena looked at her, dumbfounded.

  “Helena,” Mrs. Kouřimská said. She squinted, as if in pain.

  I wonder what’s so special about her that even Marie noticed, Helena thought. Maybe it’s because she spends so much time alone. I know my way around loneliness better than anyone, though. How come I didn’t notice?

  The two women sat quietly a while, each absorbed in her own thoughts. Finally Mrs. Kouřimská said, “Look, this is something you have to decide for yourself. It’s none of my business. But let me at least offer you this old piece of advice: Either you want something, really want it, and go for it with all your heart, no matter what the odds, and you stand at least a fighting chance of gettin
g it. Or you only want it as long as you’re not going to mess up your hair along the way, in which case you might as well spare yourself the trouble. It’s like a general who wants to win a war without firing a shot.”

  Helena sighed. “That’s just it. I still can’t bring myself to look at life as a permanent war. I’d like to at least be at peace with myself. But I realize I’m just being childish. You’re absolutely right, and it’s kind of you to be so frank with me. The truth is I’m just not that smart and I’m not sure if I have the guts. But at least now I know what my options are. And I’d really be grateful if you could introduce me to Mr. Hrůza.”

  What had she been thinking, making such a drama out of it? In any case it wouldn’t hurt to meet Mrs. Kouřimská’s friend, and after that, the rest would depend on how she finessed it. If she could convince Hrůza that Karel really was innocent, maybe he’d be able to do something for him. It was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, and she couldn’t afford to pass it up.

  –

  Everything went according to script. After the show, Mrs. Kouřimská and I stood around the lobby inconspicuously and when Hrůza came out, Mrs. Kouřimská grabbed hold of him and the three of us spent a few minutes in casual conversation. Right from the start he struck me as easy to get along with. The very next day he rang me up at work and politely asked me out on a date. Taken aback by how fast he moved, I began to stutter, but he didn’t miss a beat, and before I knew it I had agreed to get together that Sunday night, which I happened to have off.

  Hrůza said he would wait for me in his car on the embankment. I was so nervous when I left home that I decided to cut across Žofín, where I sat on a bench and smoked two cigarettes in a row to calm myself down. Meanwhile in my mind I had a chat with Božena Němcová, another woman who didn’t exactly have it easy in life. She’d had to go through all sorts of twists and turns. And look at what a nice statue they’d made of her. I was late as a result, but Hrůza just laughed it off. It didn’t bother him a bit. In general I was stunned at how civilized he was, how courteously he behaved. Up until now, I had assumed men like him went extinct in 1900. I was expecting a real lout, a slickly disguised Mephistopheles who extorted favors from desperate women. It threw me for a loop, actually. The whole ride out to Barrandov I felt uncomfortable, but then I remembered how desperate I had been for something to happen. Now finally it was and I had to handle it. Just take it slow, a move at a time. Be brave and not lose my nerve.