by Graham Brack
‘Lukas is in hospital.’
‘Lukas? What happened?’
‘Something inside him was on the verge of going pop so they’ve whipped it out. He’s putting a brave face on it but the Director says he may never return to work.’
‘Will anyone notice?’
‘I’ll notice, thank you,’ Slonský commented indignantly. ‘I’m Acting Captain until it all becomes clear. And if he doesn’t return I’m under pressure to apply to become Captain officially. I don’t fancy sitting at a desk shuffling paper all day.’
‘Then don’t apply. When they ask you, use that phrase I taught you.’
‘If I don’t apply, they’ll give it to Dvorník or Doležal.’
‘Dvorník? He hasn’t got time to fit it in between causing pregnancies. Which one is Doležal?’
‘Long streak of misery. Thinning hair and a hangdog look.’
‘Got him. Surely he isn’t the vibrant face of a modern constabulary?’
‘Doležal? His only function is to make everyone else look good. And he does that incredibly well.’
‘I assume this means you’re going to have to take the job or you’ll finish up working for a halfwit and turn into a bitter, twisted old man.’
‘It doesn’t seem to have done you any harm.’
‘I am one of a kind. It wouldn’t suit you. So how have you escaped? Shouldn’t you be filling in timesheets or something?’
‘I’ve left Peiperová in charge. She’s a good lass. Nothing will get past her.’
‘Maybe, but she’s only just left school. She doesn’t have your experience.’
‘Few have. That’s the problem. I’m getting old, Valentin. I’m decaying.’
‘Alcohol is a preservative,’ the journalist mused. ‘I learned that in biology all those years ago.’
‘Is that a hint?’
‘Well, this one seems to have evaporated while we were talking. Shall we have another?’
‘Silly question.’
Peiperová adjusted her position so her head nestled on Navrátil’s chest.
‘You’re what?’ said Navrátil.
A woman in the row in front turned to glare at them. Navrátil raised a hand in apology and acknowledgement.
‘You’re what?’ he whispered.
‘Acting Acting Captain.’
‘Is there such a rank?’
‘There must be. Apparently I am one.’
‘Well, of course I’m very pleased for you, but it’s a bit of a shock. I hesitate to raise the matter of seniority, but I’m an Academy graduate.’
‘Yes, but I’ve been an officer longer. I joined a few months before you.’
‘Is there any extra money?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Just extra work.’
‘Different work. By the way, I signed off your expenses.’
‘That’s very good of you. I’m entitled.’
Peiperová sat up and regarded Navrátil keenly. ‘Are you put out?’
‘Me? What gives you that idea?’
‘The way you’re biting my head off.’
‘Ssh! I’m trying to watch a film here,’ complained the old woman in front.
‘Sorry,’ said Peiperová. ‘My boyfriend is being a spoilt brat.’
‘Aren’t they all, dear? You’ll learn.’
Valentin had ceased to be good company. More accurately, Valentin had ceased to be conscious, and was snoring while propped against the wall in the corner. There was no point in trying to get him a taxi, because no driver would accept him as a passenger. On the other hand, Slonský could hardly frogmarch him all the way home, even if he had been disposed to let him sleep on his floor. He could not think of anywhere else to take him. Finally, inspiration struck, and he made a phone call.
The squad car was commendably quick, and Valentin was taken away for a night in the cells. He would be highly upset when he woke up, but Slonský had told them not to charge him so he would be free to go when sober.
The car pulled away, and Slonský stood on the pavement looking at the navy blue sky with its twinkling silver stars, so readily visible in the clearness of a sharp November night. Lukas was sick, Valentin was miserable, he was miserable, the simple cog-driven world he inhabited was coming apart. His life was going to change, whether Lukas recovered or not. This captaincy question was not going to go away. Well, if there’s going to be change I’d better be in the driving seat for it, he thought. I must take control of my own destiny. He glanced at his watch. Too late to telephone tonight, but there was a call he must make in the morning. First thing. No, maybe not first thing. But sometime. Definitely sometime.
Chapter 7
The door to Lukas’ office was open. Peiperová was sitting at the desk, her head bowed as she tapped numbers into a calculator and made pencilled ticks on the expenses forms in front of her. Navrátil hesitated for a moment, but finally gritted his teeth and entered.
‘Yes?’ she said.
‘I just wanted to say I’ve been thinking about last night, and I realise I behaved badly.’
‘Yes, you did,’ said Peiperová, without looking up from her work.
Navrátil had not planned to say any more, but there was an awkward silence during which it was clear that absolution was going to be harder to obtain from Peiperová than it ever was from Father Antonin.
‘And I want to say I’m sorry,’ he blurted out.
Peiperová worked on. He willed her to tell him that it was all forgotten and it did not matter, but she just tapped at her calculator and ticked away.
‘I’m very pleased for you and I should have said so. You’ve worked hard for it. I hope that we’ll always be proud of each other’s achievements.’
She finally looked up. ‘You won’t act like a spoilt child again if I get promoted and you don’t?’
‘I promise.’
‘And you know if you make a promise and don’t keep it you’ll go straight to hell?’
‘Yes. But I didn’t think you were a believer.’
‘It’s not what I believe that matters. It’s what you believe. And if you believe that telling a lie means an eternity of getting your backside roasted, then you won’t tell me a lie and I don’t have to worry that you’re fibbing just to get back into my good books.’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’
Peiperová laid down her pencil. ‘Shut the door,’ she ordered.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m not going to kiss you with the whole world watching. We Acting Acting Captains can’t be seen snogging on duty.’ She threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his mouth.
‘Do I have to call you Sir?’ he asked.
She pulled him tight against her. ‘You of all people should know I’m not a sir,’ she said.
Mucha turned the key in the lock and nudged the door open with his foot, since his hands were occupied in bearing a tray. ‘Room service!’ he announced, causing a bleary-eyed Valentin to turn his face to the wall and groan anew.
‘What time is it?’ he asked.
‘08.20. We’ve let you have a lie-in. But checkout time is nine o’clock because we have to get the room ready for the next occupant.’
Valentin levered himself to something closer to a vertical position. ‘Dear God, how much did I have last night?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Mucha, ‘but you’ve got a visitor who might.’
Slonský was standing in the doorway with a broad smile and an irritating chirpiness. ‘Too much,’ he said. ‘Actually about two times too much and then some. You haven’t been mugged. You spent all you had on you, and you’ve got a slate to clear next time you’re in there. Not too much — perhaps four thousand crowns.’
‘Four thousand crowns?’ whimpered Valentin. ‘Four thousand? What could I have spent four thousand on?’
Slonský shrugged. ‘It’s a combination of things really. Buying a round for everyone in the place didn’t help. Then there was the bottle of genuine Fre
nch champagne. I’ve never seen anyone dunk bread in it before.’
‘Why didn’t you stop me?’ whined Valentin.
‘Because when I got there you were so damn miserable and by the time we left you were happy.’
‘Well, I’m not happy now.’
‘Hardly surprising. You must have a head like a woodpecker’s.’
‘Yes. So please moderate your volume. And why didn’t you take me home instead of banging me up in here?’
‘Two reasons. First, I can’t remember where you live, and second, no taxi-driver would take you incase you chucked up in his vehicle. To tell the truth, you nearly spoiled my cunning plan by picking a fight with Sergeant Vyhnal.’
‘Yes, he told me about that,’ said Mucha. ‘He wasn’t happy.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Slonský. ‘I hear Valentin was a bit noisy.’
‘I don’t think it was the noise,’ Mucha replied, ‘so much as the bad language. And the reference to Vyhnal’s parentage, which was unfortunate, because Mr Valentin wasn’t to know that Sergeant Vyhnal actually is a bastard.’
Valentin held his face in his hands. ‘I’d better apologise.’
‘He’s gone off duty,’ said Mucha, ‘but I’ll see that someone tells him when he comes in tonight. Unless, of course, he’s so upset that he tops himself.’
Valentin picked up his cap, scarf and coat and managed to drape them over himself in roughly the right configuration. ‘I’m going home,’ he announced. ‘I may have a quiet night in tonight.’
‘A quiet night in?’ echoed Slonský. ‘Should we send for the police doctor?’
‘Ha-de-ha. I’m splitting my sides. Just leave me alone. Shouldn’t you be out finding a murderer or two?’
‘I suppose so.’ He clapped Valentin on the back. ‘Safe journey home, my friend. Take your roll. You’ll want it when you feel like eating.’
‘It’ll be stale by then.’
‘It’s stale now,’ said Mucha, ‘but it’s the thought that counts.’
Slonský bounded up the stairs but found his way blocked by Lieutenant Doležal, who seemed unusually animated.
‘I understand that you’re Acting Captain, and that’s understandable, given that you’re the senior lieutenant,’ he began, ‘but what do you mean by putting that girl in charge?’
‘She’s not in charge,’ said Slonský. ‘She’s doing some of the administrative stuff to save me some time. On top of which, she’ll do it better than me. She’s a very organised girl, and I’m not.’
‘She’s sitting in the captain’s office,’ Doležal pointed out.
‘What do you want me to do, pull her desk out into the corridor? She’s doing part of the captain’s work. People expect to hand their paperwork in at the captain’s office. Some of it is confidential, so she can’t do it in the room she shares with me and Navrátil.’
‘It’s not right to leave a young girl like that in charge of experienced officers. She handed out the duty rosters. You can’t have a junior officer preparing those.’
‘And what exactly is wrong with them?’
‘Nothing. They’re fine. It’s the principle of the thing. It’s not how things are done here,’ Doležal argued, stabbing the air with his finger to emphasise the conclusive nature of his final point.
‘Quite right,’ said Slonský. ‘We don’t normally have this level of efficiency and it’s going to take some getting used to. But we’re all going to have to try. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and see if Peiperová has any work for me to do.’
Slonský pushed past and stomped along the corridor to his office. Navrátil was sitting in his usual place with his back to the window, and looked up as Slonský barged in, banging the door against the wall so that it rebounded but failed to close.
‘Do you have anything to say to me?’ Slonský demanded.
‘About what?’
‘Peiperová’s new job.’
‘I don’t understand why you picked her and not me. I’ve been here longer and I thought I was your assistant.’
‘Jesus Maria! Have you been talking to Doležal? It’s not permanent, it’s not important, it’s just sparing my time so I can get on with fighting crime.’ Slonský’s face was turning from tomato towards beetroot. ‘It’s precisely because I want you beside me on this case that I detailed Peiperová to do the office work. She’s good at it. She can count up to twenty without taking her shoes off.’
‘So can I.’
‘So can I too. But I’m playing this all by ear, Navrátil. I’ve got to keep the department going and solve crimes at the same time. I definitely do not need a bunch of prima donnas running to me to moan about favouritism or their hurt feelings.’
Navrátil held up his hands in surrender. ‘I asked a question, sir. I got an answer. I’m happy.’
Slonský breathed deeply and flopped in his chair. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Sorry, nothing personal.’
In the quiet that followed they suddenly became aware that there were three people breathing. Peiperová was standing in the doorway.
‘Sir,’ she asked, ‘when can I go out and carry on my investigation?’
Slonský and Navrátil sat in silence.
‘Not hungry, sir?’
‘Not really. I thought pastry would help, but it hasn’t. Roll on the end of the day when I can get stuck in to some alcohol.’
‘We could try chasing some criminals.’
‘We are, lad. I’m not sitting here for the good of my health. I’ve got an eye fixed on that nightclub.’
‘I guessed that’s why we’d come here, sir.’
‘I want to see the doorman we met the other day. If Peiperová’s contact is right, Brukić must have been there. I want to see if there’s any evidence to back up Suzana’s story.’
‘Why would she lie, sir?’
‘No reason at all, but that’s a very different question to asking whether we can prove that she’s telling the truth.’
A familiar figure in a black windcheater turned the corner and walked jauntily along the road. Slonský sprang from his seat and grabbed his hat.
‘Remember the plan, son.’
Navrátil sprinted across the road and took up his position in the alley. The doorman tensed as he recognised the young detective and stopped walking, only to feel Slonský’s hand on his shoulder.
‘You do well to avoid him,’ he said. ‘He’s not happy with you.’
‘Why? I’ve done nothing.’
‘You didn’t tell us everything you knew. I gave you my number and you didn’t ring me.’
‘Oh yeah? What didn’t I tell you then?’
Slonský whistled and Navrátil started to walk towards them, one hand swinging freely and the other jammed in his jacket pocket.
‘What’s he got in his hand? I told you everything I know. I swear I did.’
‘I don’t think you did,’ said Slonský, ‘but I’m prepared to tell Navrátil to hang on a minute or two before he teaches you a lesson.’
The hoodlum tried to make a run for it, but Slonský grabbed his collar and hooked his legs away with a sweep of his foot, leaving him sprawling on the ground.
‘That’s no good,’ said Navrátil. ‘I can’t make them drop down his trouser leg if he’s lying on the ground.’
They dragged the doorman to a low wall and sat him down there.
‘They’ll be missing you soon, so you’d better talk fast,’ said Slonský.
‘Don’t let them see me talking to you,’ hissed the doorman. ‘If they see me it won’t matter that I’ve said nothing. That Bosnian pig will have me gutted.’
‘That would be the Bosnian pig your mate said hadn’t been in the club?’
‘I don’t know about that.’
Slonský unfolded the fax once again.
‘I asked him about this one. Now I’m asking you about that one.’
‘They’ve both been there.’
‘They bring the girls in, don’t they?’
> The thug nodded.
‘Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Do you know when they’re coming?’
‘No. They’re not going to tell the likes of us.’
‘Fine. If you hear anything, you’ve got my number. Calling me would be a very good idea.’
The bouncer made as if to get up, but Slonský pushed him back down.
‘You didn’t tell us about the girl who killed herself.’
The look on the thug’s face was easy to interpret. It was naked fear.
‘I had nothing to do with that.’
‘That’s not what I heard. Did she squeal when you raped her?’
‘I didn’t do anything of the sort! I never laid hands on her while she was alive.’
‘While she was alive. So you did when she wasn’t alive any more?’
‘They made us carry her out to the truck.’
‘Where was this?’
‘The girls live in an old student hostel. They have a dormitory there. It’s good because it was built to keep the men students out so there’s a concierge’s kiosk by the front door. Nobody can get out without being seen.’
‘Address?’
‘I don’t know the address. I could take you. Or I could draw a map,’ he added desperately.
‘A map would be fine. We don’t want you taking time off work, do we?’
Slonský released his grip on the man’s shoulder and motioned him to go. He looked at Navrátil for reassurance that he was not about to be stabbed in the back. Navrátil just scowled at him.
‘You’re enjoying that part far too much,’ said Slonský. ‘Ought I to be worried?’
‘Just obeying your orders, sir. You said to act hard, so I did.’
‘There’s a side to you that would surprise Peiperová, lad.’
Peiperová had come to the Padlock Club earlier, which was how Slonský knew that the doorman had not started his shift. She had loitered around the district but had not been able to find Suzana again. She had, however, spotted another likely dancer and had followed her as she bought a few vegetables and a small piece of chicken. As the shopper waited to cross the road, Peiperová cautiously stepped alongside her.