A Blind Eye: Book 1 in the Adam Kaminski Mystery Series

by Jane Gorman

  19

  “Good morning.” Adam handed Sylvia a cup of coffee as she emerged from her bedroom, wrapped in a pink robe. “I hope you managed to sleep.”

  “I had no problem, thank you. How about you, could you sleep on that tiny sofa?” she asked as she sniffed at the coffee before taking a sip. “So, now that we are awake, what are we to do? Or perhaps the question is, what are you to do. Today, I mean?”

  “It’s a fair question. To tell the truth, I’m not entirely sure. I need to look into a few things. And some of those things I’m hoping you can help me with.”

  With that, he shared with Sylvia the story Łukasz had told him the night before. She listened without interrupting, though her eyes occasionally betrayed her skepticism.

  Adam wrapped up the story. “We know someone is still after him, because that someone attacked us last night as we left the bar. We managed to get away, but I didn’t think it was safe for him to go back to his place, so I invited him to stay in my hotel. And I came here.”

  Sylvia was silent for a few moments longer, and Adam started to wonder what thoughts were hidden behind her pale blue eyes.

  “Adam, you shouldn’t be involved in this. You don’t know our country, our way of doing things. This young woman… Basia… you do not know her. Any father would find it difficult to believe his daughter had killed herself. How do you know he is right, that she was murdered?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I believe him.”

  “Why?” Sylvia persisted.

  “Well, for one thing, he must be onto something, or why else would someone be trying to kill him?” Adam asked. “He’s been attacked twice now. Once he was left for dead. And when they came back to finish the job he was just lucky I was there to stop them. He must be onto something, getting someone nervous.”

  Sylvia shrugged and looked away. “I think not, Adam. I’m sorry, I knew Basia Kaminski. You should not be surprised, she worked for Rafał Novosad. We are a small community, you know.”

  “Of course, I should have realized, I’m sorry. What can you tell me about her?”

  “It was very sad, Adam, when she died. We all felt the loss. I can understand her father feels it most of all.”

  Sylvia looked directly at Adam as she spoke. He could still hear the birds calling faintly from the courtyard outside with plaintive cries.

  She continued, “Basia was obviously struggling with her work. She was tense all the time. She was under a lot of pressure, and she finally gave up. I believe that is what happened.”

  “Łukasz doesn’t believe that. He thinks she was killed.”

  Sylvia shrugged. “That is a hard thing to believe. Who would have killed her? And as I said, she was a troubled young woman. Suicide is horrible, but it is more likely.”

  “Think about it,” Adam pressed. “What if her difficulties came from the fact that she knew something she shouldn’t? Isn’t it possible that something was bothering her and she didn’t know who to talk to about it? Scaring her, even?”

  She put her coffee down. “You are making up stories, Adam. You are a policeman, you see crimes when there are none. Secrets where there are none. These are all good people who I work with. They are not killers.” She paused, and Adam could tell she was carefully considering her next words. “Is what you suggest possible, that she had a secret she couldn’t share and that was why she was troubled? Yes, I suppose it is possible. But I do not think that is what happened. I think she found the job difficult, I think she struggled with it just as Laurienty does.”

  “Who’s Laurienty?”

  “You met him yesterday. Well, you saw him. He was very rude, interrupting our meeting with Minister Kapral without an explanation.” Sylvia shook her head in amazement. “He has no skills, no diplomacy. He will not make it far in our government. I do not know why Kapral keeps him on his staff.”

  “I thought there was something odd about him. And about his relationship with Kapral.”

  “It is just Laurienty, I am sure.” Sylvia smiled. “He puts people off right away. Always nervous, always late, always focusing on the wrong problem.” She stood. “These are the problems we deal with, Adam, not murder.”

  “There is something dark here, Sylvia. I am sure of it. Something evil. And I need to root it out. Because if I don’t, someone else will get hurt. I am sure of it,” Adam repeated, almost to himself.

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe that. Corruption there is, I know, but to kill someone to hide it?” She shook her head again. “No, this is not possible. And how can you investigate this? You don’t know our ways, you don’t understand our culture.”

  “You’re right, I don’t understand. That’s why I need your help. You do understand.” Adam leaned forward and looked into her eyes over the metal kitchen table. “You must help me understand. Because one thing I’ve learned through my job over the years is the only way to catch a person is by understanding what he thinks.”

  Sylvia shut her eyes and shook her head. “No, I don’t want to understand that. And I don’t understand how you could want to, either.”

  Adam shrugged and tasted his coffee again. It was getting cold. “It’s what I do, and I do it well.” He paused, considering making another pot of coffee. He added, “Okay, I understand you don’t want to get into the mindset of a criminal, I can respect that. I may still come to you with questions about your culture and your history, though, if that’s okay?”

  Sylvia smiled. “Of course that’s all right, that’s why you are here, no? And that’s why I am here for you, to show you these things.”

  “And I have one more favor to ask of you, Sylvia. This might be a big one.”

  Sylvia looked at him expectantly.

  “I need to get into the national archives.” He pushed forward when he saw the expression on her face. “That’s where the truth is hidden. I must go back through the files Łukasz looked at before, to figure out who he was homing in on, who felt threatened enough by his research.”

  Sylvia stood and walked back into the living room. Adam waited where he was, knowing she needed a moment to think.

  Eventually, she came back into the room, standing in the doorway with one hand on the wall. “I may not be able to get you that access. You understand those archives hold some records of national importance? It is not simply a library. It includes… well, for example, many of the files on the lustration hearings, the reports filed about people’s past activities and connections with the secret police. These are sensitive materials.”

  “But you’ll try?” Adam pressed.

  “No” — Sylvia shook her head and looked down into her coffee mug — “but I can tell you who might be able to help. If you are interested in the national archives, you are best served if you have the support of a member of the national legislature. One of the people you met yesterday, for example. You should ask one of them. Adam” — she looked over his shoulder as she spoke, at the snow now falling softly into the courtyard — “you must be careful. This is not your land, not your people. You don’t know what you might find.”

  * * *

  With Sylvia’s warning still ringing in his ears, Adam walked quickly down Ulica Miodowa toward the university and his hotel. He kept his head tucked into his collar against the cold, matching the stance and stride of others around him getting an early start for work or school.

  Gray stone buildings lined the sidewalks and Adam knew that each of these opened up to peaceful courtyards inside, just as Sylvia’s building did. Quiet, private spaces hidden behind bland building faces.

  There was more hidden in Warsaw than lying in plain sight, Adam was beginning to realize.

  He had a half-formed plan in his mind of getting into his hotel room by telling the desk clerk he had lost his key, but fortunately he didn’t need it. As he entered the lobby he saw Łukasz sitting in a comfortable chair, sipping a cup of coffee and reading that day’s newspaper.

  “Cousin.” Adam took the seat next to Łu
kasz. “You look relaxed and well rested.” The sounds of clinking dishes came from the restaurant behind the lobby and Adam thought he could just smell the thick ham, dill and fresh bread that would be laid out in the buffet.

  “Only thanks to you, my friend. And how did you sleep? Did you find a comfortable bed?”

  “Of sorts, yes.” Adam smiled, and chose not to answer the question evident in Łukasz’s eyes.

  Both men turned their attention to the staircase as Angela stepped into the lobby. Clearly planning an early morning swim, she wore only a bathing suit with a towel wrapped around her waist. She tied her dark hair into a knot at the back of her head as she descended the stairs, and both men watched as she moved with the grace and confidence of an athlete.

  She paused at the bottom of the stairs before turning the corner for the last flight down to the pool and saw Adam and Łukasz watching her. With a small smile playing on her lips, she made her way over to the two men.

  “Good morning, Adam. And this must be the cousin you met up with yesterday. Angela Tarallo,” she added, extending a hand to Łukasz.

  Łukasz took her hand and lifted it slightly toward his lips, bowing his head. “Łukasz Kaminski. A pleasure to meet you, Pani Tarallo. A great pleasure. My cousin has been very rude and has not introduced me to this wonderful team from America he tells me about.”

  “I hope he will rectify that mistake. I also hope he will be spending a little more time with our group today?” She directed this last comment to Adam.

  The sound of feet clattering down the stairs preceded Jared, who burst into the lobby. Seeing Angela, he grabbed at the railing, almost tripping over himself as he changed directions, heading toward her instead of continuing down the stairs.

  “Angela, there you are.” He panted as he spoke. “I thought I’d join you in that swim you mentioned.”

  Angela raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Great. Good. I just stopped to say hello to Adam. And his cousin, Łukasz.”

  Łukasz nodded at Jared, who smiled back. “Cousin! How wonderful for you. I’m so glad you’ve had the chance to meet up with your family, Adam. You must be spending a lot of time together. I guess that’s why you’ve been skipping out on some of our meetings?”

  “That’s right. Sorry about that.”

  “No, that’s cool. That’s great. Hey, I’d love the chance to see Warsaw with a local. Maybe I can join you guys today? You know, just to hang out in a real home, do things real Poles do?”

  Angela laughed. “Looks like I’m not the only one missing you, Adam. You’re a wanted man.”

  “Ah… well… I actually have some things I’m going to need to do today. I’m sorry, but Łukasz and I do need some time together. Alone.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Angela frowned. “I was hoping we would be able to spend some time together today. I didn’t even see you come in last night. I was hoping for a nightcap.”

  Łukasz raised an eyebrow toward Adam, but Adam gave no indication of what he was thinking. “Perhaps later today, Angela. I would like that. You, too, Jared, maybe we’ll catch up later.”

  With a quick smile, Angela turned and walked slowly back toward the staircase down to the pool below. Jared looked at Łukasz and Adam, then shrugged and trotted after her.

  “And I better get myself dressed.” Adam stood.

  “How do you propose to start?” Łukasz asked, standing also.

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I’m going to start with the people I have the most in common with — Americans and cops.”

  20

  The police station was quieter today, no one standing yelling at the counter. Adam smiled to himself as he remembered Łukasz’s barely controlled anger at the way the police had treated him.

  Whistling softly under his breath, he leaned against the counter. The entrance area was empty. Through an open door beyond the front desk Adam could see a hallway, and every so often, a police officer would pass by the door.

  He waited for over five minutes before a uniformed officer came to the desk.

  “Słucham?”

  “Yes, hi there,” Adam answered with a smile. “Does anyone here speak English, by any chance?”

  The officer said nothing, just turned and headed back the way he had come. Adam waited patiently, once again whistling under his breath.

  Eventually his patience paid off. A second man came through the door to the counter, this one in plain clothes. “You speak English, I understand?” the man asked.

  “Yes, perfect, thank you.” Adam smiled and extended his hand, but the man did not take it.

  “How can I help you, sir?”

  “Adam Kaminski,” Adam introduced himself. “I’m a police officer as well, from Philadelphia… in America,” he added as he failed to see any recognition in the man’s eyes. “I was in here the other day to introduce myself, and I was invited to return when there was someone here who spoke English.”

  “I see. And why are you here?” the other man asked without smiling or introducing himself.

  “I’m in Warsaw as part of a delegation. We’re visiting with some of your officials as we make plans for forming a sister cities relationship between Warsaw and Philadelphia.”

  The man was examining him with clear distrust, so Adam continued, “Yesterday we met with Minister Kapral, for example. Very nice guy, he told us a lot about Poland, your country and your history. So I’m just hoping you can fill me in a little bit on the more day-to-day stuff, the things that really matter. Things like law enforcement.”

  The man’s eyes had softened slightly when Adam had mentioned Kapral, and now he nodded. “Of course, professional courtesy.” He raised a flap on the counter and motioned for Adam to follow him through.

  “Szczepański,” he introduced himself as he walked.

  Adam didn’t try to repeat the name, simply nodded and smiled.

  Szczepański led Adam back to a small lounge where a few other officers sat reading reports and drinking black coffee out of plastic cups. It was an all-too-familiar scene. Adam breathed in the stale smoke, the aroma of coffee so strong he could taste it, and felt immediately at home.

  His comfort level dropped when he recognized a portrait of Saint Casimir on the wall. The far-too-familiar image of Casimir holding lilies, a pious expression gracing his saintly face. Adam shuddered, trying not to lump Szczepański in with that other cop from Philly, just because of the Saint Casimir connection.

  It wasn’t easy.

  Gesturing for Adam to take a seat, Szczepański leaned against a worn wooden table and folded his arms. “So, Pan Kaminski, what can I tell you?”

  His words were friendly, but Adam still heard caution in his voice.

  “I have a few questions I’d like to ask you, to get a sense of how you do things here. To compare with our methods at home.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Okay.” Adam took a breath. “Let’s start with statistics. What are your crime rates?”

  From there, Adam proceeded to inquire about a variety of procedural, statistical and legal aspects of law enforcement in Poland, each drier and less interesting than the first.

  After thirty minutes, Szczepański slouched in a chair at the table, his chin resting heavily against his hand.

  “Is there anything else, Pan Kaminski, that you need to know about law enforcement in Warsaw?” he asked wearily.

  “Well, there is just one more thing,” Adam responded, choosing his words carefully. “I read an article in the English-language paper about a young woman who committed suicide. Basia Kaminski.”

  Szczepański looked at him expectantly, saying nothing, so Adam continued. “Her name caught my eye, as you can imagine.”

  He waited again, but Szczepański just nodded.

  “So I was curious to see the file on that case. Just to see how you handle something like that, how an investigation is conducted over here.”

  Szczepański studied Adam for a moment, then stood and walked across the room
. A rickety wooden desk was pushed up against the wall, perhaps leaning against the wall for support. A sleek computer balanced on its surface, precariously out of place, and Adam winced as Szczepański pushed the power button, actively willing the desk to stay upright. It shook, but it stood.

  The computer came to life with a soft whirring. Szczepański leaned over it, hitting a few keys. Another noise farther along the wall drew Adam’s attention to a laser printer, spitting out paper.

  When the movement stopped, Szczepański brought a few sheets over to Adam.

  “The report you ask about,” he said, reading over it. “You think this may be useful for you?” he asked with a smile, handing it to Adam.

  One glance told Adam it wouldn’t be any use to him at all. While Adam could pick out a few words here and there, his grasp of the Polish language wasn’t enough to gain anything meaningful from the report.

  Adam smiled back at Szczepański. “I can’t read that, of course. Maybe you can fill me in?”

  Szczepański glanced over the sheet one more time. “It says here she jumped off the bridge. There are detailed reports about the scene, about the temperature of the water, about the current. All the things you would have in your reports in America, I am sure.”

  Adam nodded and reassured him it sounded like a very thorough report. “And what did you find about the body itself? Anything useful there?”

  “The body? It was dead.” Szczepański laughed, a cross between a bark and a cough, and Adam frowned.

  “Yes, I know. But cause of death?”

  Szczepański looked hard at Adam. “She jumped off a bridge, Pan Kaminski. The cause of death was drowning, as you would expect.”

  Adam shrugged, focusing on keeping his anger in check. “You never know. Jumpers sometimes die from wounds inflicted in the fall. Hitting her head, for example?”

  “Yes, she hit her head.” Szczepański pointed to the report. “She hit it on the rocks in the river, this says, when she fell. Then she drowned, that is quite clear.”

  “So she was alive when she went into the water. The injury on her head didn’t kill her? And are you sure the injury on her head was made in the water, not before?”