Wojcik knew from experience that people could get murdered on any day, however he believed that homicide and bad weather went hand in hand.
As usual, it was raining that morning.
As usual, he was too early.
The only unexpected thing was the phone call from a community police officer informing him that a woman was found dead in her apartment on Liberation Street. Presumably, it was a murder, otherwise Wojcik wouldn't have been called. He remembered vaguely of ever hearing that street name, but he couldn't recall in which case that address was mentioned.
Despite Edmond having lived in Resovia for many years, he had never been in that part of the Old Town. The infrastructure was like in any other place of the city, however the surroundings felt foreign to him as he drove down the avenue in his Lada.
Wojcik had no idea who the victim was. The identity of the woman only mattered for the investigation. That was why he acted so unbothered, even though a murder was committed. Throughout his career he dealt with many gruesome crimes, but he never let those bring him out of balance. The reason for his indifference was the fact that he didn't know the victims personally.
Until that day.
As Wojcik walked into the corridor of apartment 25, he threw a quick glance into the kitchen. Without first hearing her name or seeing her face, he knew who the dead woman was. He saw her immovable figure lying on the kitchen table. Her torso rested on its surface, as if she was asleep. On the windowsill of the balcony sat a black cat. In its impenetrable gaze was no understanding of what had happened to its owner, however each time the coroner moved to take a picture of the body, glimpses of confusion reflected in the feline eyes.
There were so many cat ladies with dishevelled grey hair living in Resovia, but there was only one with those long bony fingers, spread like a tree's roots on the plastic tablecloth. At that instant Wojcik realised that every time he talked to Agnes Gott, he always stared at her hands, captivated by the abnormal length of her fingers.
Wojcik felt his own limbs turning cold, but not because of the presence of a dead body. He had seen so many in his career. For the first time in his life, he felt guilty for what had happened. In the case of Agnes Gott, Edmond was partially responsible for her death. She had been to their police office and turned to him, Edmond Wojcik, for help, but he dismissed her. He couldn't deny that, and he wouldn't. His conscience wouldn't let him.
"Has someone contacted Farnicki?" he asked without addressing anyone in particular.
"Yes, he's on his way," Victor Frank - the coroner - replied.
"Who discovered her?"
"Her elderly neighbour from across the hall, Miss Greta Kaminski. She was up early to go to Tuesday's market and in passing noticed that her neighbour's door was unlocked. She walked in and found Agnes dead. Miss Kaminski called an ambulance, and they in turn called us when they suspected something was off about the cause of death."
"Where is Miss Kaminski now?"
"She's off to the market. After she recovered from the shock, she asked for permission to leave. I let her go; we had no reason to detain her. I don't think she'll try to flee. She promised to be back soon."
"How long has she been dead?"
"I think no longer than twelve hours. I'll tell you more after the autopsy."
"Can you tell what the possible cause of death was?"
"She was poisoned. Here, smell this," the coroner gestured to a glass bowl with leftover rice standing on the table. The Inspector leaned over and smelled the dish contents. His nose discerned the sweet, but feeble scent of almond.
"Cyanide. How could she not notice the smell?"
"Not everyone perceives it and besides, look here," Victor beckoned Wojcik to come closer. The latter involuntarily shrugged his shoulders when he crouched to look directly into Agnes Gott's face. Even after her death, her eyes pierced right through his soul, accusing him of incompetence.
"Agnes finished her plate and fell forward with her face into it. But you can see there are mustard smears left. She must've scooped the rice into her plate and added mustard for extra flavour. The poor woman didn't realise there was something wrong with her food," the coroner explained.
"I see. All the food in her house needs to be examined."
"Of course, but there is not that much to examine. I found a bottle with leftover mustard in the refrigerator, a container with some cheese spread, half of a cucumber, and a glass container with four tomato slices. In the freezer was a plastic box with two slabs of raw chicken breast. In the pantry I discovered two half empty jars with buckwheat and spaghetti. It seems like there's nothing but leftovers in this house!"
"And cat food?"
"Cat food? There was no cat food. However, there were a few pieces of raw chicken in their bowl. I think Agnes fed them whatever she ate herself, which wasn't much," the coroner cynically remarked.
"Excuse me, Sir? Could I talk to you for a minute?"
Wojcik followed the community police officer to the double glass door framed in wood further down the corridor. Behind those doors they discovered a small, carpeted living room with a worn-out red and green checkered couch and ditto seat. Next to the seat stood a shaky side table with a flaky red desk lamp and a new, not yet lit, white candle on a China coaster. The entire wall, from the floor to the ceiling, opposite of the coach, was filled with books organised by their size on self made shelves mounted to the wall.
Wojcik felt ashamed for how he had treated Agnes. She was poor, nevertheless her house was clean, there was no cat smell, and it turned out that the woman was well-read, which made him instantly sympathise with her, because he was an avid reader himself. But his sympathy with Agnes was out of place because it wouldn't bring her back from the dead.
"What did you want to tell me?"
"Sir, I've interrogated the residents while waiting for you, but no one has told me anything noteworthy. Except for Helena Grom from apartment 53 on the fifth floor. She claims that last night someone had been spying on them sitting in that big tree there next to the church. The peeping Tom threw something heavy, like a stone, into their window and almost shattered it."
"A peeping Tom hiding in a tree. How extraordinary!" muttered Wojcik.
"Is Miss Grom still there?"
"No, Sir. She left for work and said that she'll be back tonight at seven. She works in the local Sarma supermarket."
At that moment, Farnicki ran into the apartment. Wojcik noticed he was wearing the same white T-shirt and skinny jeans as the day before. And he must have left the house without his helmet on because his hair was wet.
Ivan stood in the kitchen door frame and stared at the dead cat lady. He turned pale as the coroner explained to him what must have happened to her.
"Thank you, Officer. Detective Sergeant and I will take it over from here," Wojcik shook the officer's hand, and the latter left the apartment.
Farnicki joined the Inspector in the living room. The Sergeant looked distressed, too affected by what had happened to Agnes Gott, thought Edmond.
"Sir, this is the same woman who cried for help yesterday and you kicked her out! She told you someone was poisoning her cats and now she is dead! Poisoned!"
Ivan looked at Edmond reproachfully, pressing his lips together in disdain. Raindrops fell from his hair, leaving wet stains on his white T-shirt.
"Yes, Farnicki. I wasn't thinking of denying my responsibility for her death. You can blame and shame me all you want, or you can pull yourself together and help me solve this case and bring justice to Agnes Gott," Wojcik parried coolly. Farnicki was about to say something, but he didn't have the chance to because they heard a woman's voice coming from the staircase.
"Excuse me? Is there somebody there? I'm back."
Wojcik headed to the front door, followed by Farnicki. They discovered a little, elderly lady holding two plastic bags in both hands waiting for them in the hall.
"Excuse me, Officers, I don't dare to come inside. Your colleague told me you wanted to speak to me, but I prefer to talk to you in my house, if you don't mind."
"Of course, Ma'am. No problem. I'm Inspector Edmond Wojcik. This is Detective Sergeant Ivan Farnicki. You're Miss Kaminski, I suppose?"
"Yes, that's me. I'm Agnes' neighbour. I live at number twenty-one. Please, follow me."
The old lady led them inside her apartment and asked them to take place in the kitchen. She began taking out her groceries, placing them on the table in front of the police men and putting the kettle with water on the stove to boil.
"What would you gentlemen prefer to drink?" the friendly woman asked. Both men answered coffee.
"That's right. After such an awful early morning one needs a good boost. I was quite shaken when I discovered poor Agnes, but I needed to do groceries. The vendors stay until lunch on Tuesdays, you see, and I only buy vegetables and fruit from farmers."
"I understand," replied Wojcik, slyly smiling to his colleague behind the old lady's back. It was obvious that Greta wanted to trumpet forth the sensational news of her neighbour's death and that she had found her body before anyone else could.
"Agnes was murdered, wasn't she? I overheard your people talk, and besides, you wouldn't come here if she had died naturally."
"Yes, miss Kaminski, we have strong reasons to believe that Agnes Gott was poisoned. Could you tell us something about Agnes? Were you good friends with her?" Wojcik asked.
"I'd rather call us good neighbours. I visited her from time to time, just to keep her company and talk about the latest news. I have known her parents and her since she was a little girl. They were a decent family. Her parents were both teachers in the local elementary school and Agnes was always a model student and daughter herself. Agnes never gave them reason to be disappointed in her. But after her graduation, things started to go wrong. Agnes got sick on her first job. If I remember it correctly, she worked for some Almain waste processing company. She won the lawsuit against them, resulting in them paying her a lifelong pension. But as you have seen it yourself, that pension was barely enough to make the ends meet," Greta's voice was shaking with scorn as she recalled Agnes' living conditions. She poured the hot coffee in two big, white mugs.
"However, somehow Agnes survived on those peanuts," she continued after having served them coffee with biscuits, "and even managed to keep all those cats. The cats were always well fed and taken care of, though."
"Agnes told me about how you had treated her, Inspector Wojcik," Miss Kaminski disapprovingly glanced at Edmond with her little grey eyes. The latter instantly felt his cheeks blush.
"And you were wrong, Inspector! No one in this house would harm Agnes or her cats. You've been inside. Did you smell anything?" both Farnicki and Wojcik shook their heads, "That's right! If everyone could keep such a pristine cleanliness in their house as Agnes did with all her cats! But then again, it's not like she had a lot of stuff to dust off, except for her ever-expanding collection of books. I know everyone here. So, if you're looking for Agnes' murderer, you won't find him in this house!"
"What makes you think the killer is someone from the outside?" Wojcik asked curiously.
"Well, as a matter of fact, I've seen a man visiting Agnes."
Wojcik noticed how Farnicki suddenly tensed up. His dark eyes peered sharply at the old lady, but he relaxed as soon as she continued.
"That was a month ago, I think. I was just leaving my house when I noticed them talking at her door. I've never seen him before, and Agnes never told me who he was. I thought it was inappropriate to ask her about him, since she didn't bring him up herself. I was afraid she would think I was being nosy."
"Could you describe the man?"
"Oh, yes! He was extremely handsome and rich! Well, at least he looked very well off. He was tall, with grey hair, and a nice haircut. He looked younger than our Agnes, but I think they were of the same age. He wore an elegant beige coat, and as I passed him by, I noticed a gold watch on his right wrist."
"How did Agnes react when she saw him?"
"She acted surprised, but I could see she was glad he came."
"Would you recognise the man if you ever saw him again?"
"Yes, I would. You see, Inspector, when he turned around to greet me, I could swear I had seen him before! That's because he resembled an actor, but I can't remember his name. It was some famous TV show thirty years ago and the man looked exactly like that actor, but older."
"Right. Do you know if Agnes has any family left?"
"Oh, that's right! You just reminded me of something. Give me a minute," Greta left the kitchen, and the officers heard her opening a drawer in the other room, looking for something. She came back shortly after, holding a piece of paper in her hand.
"Here," she said, handing over Wojcik the note with something scribbled on it, "this is the address and telephone number of Karl Gott, Agnes' cousin. He lives in Cracovia. Karl is the only family member Agnes had left. She told me that if anything happened to her, I had to contact Karl. I wondered if you could do that, since you're investigating her death," Miss Kaminski explained apologetically, insinuating she didn't want to be the messenger of bad news.
"But of course, Miss Kaminski," Wojcik nodded understandingly and took the paper from her.
The two men thanked Greta Kaminski for the coffee and for the information she provided them with. As they were about to descend the stairs, Victor Frank came out of apartment 25.
"Finding the killer will be easy this time!"
"Oh, yeah? What makes you think so, Vic?" Wojcik asked amused.
"Agnes Gott must have had a visitor yesterday and his, or hers, fingerprints are all over the place! On the tablecloth, on the windowsill, on the doorknob, on the dirty dishes. And they all belong to the same person," Victor rattled off as he secured the crime scene.
"Well, it doesn't necessarily mean that that person is the killer. Someone had poisoned her cats. Maybe the cyanide got into her food by accident."
"Wojcik, you and I know very well that nothing ever happens by accident," the coroner said laconically.
"Sir, I think initially the murderer was after Agnes Gott. He poisoned her food, but since she shared everything with her cats, she somehow managed to survive several attacks. Until now."
"You think so?" Wojcik frowned on hearing that, but not because the idea seemed to be unbelievable. He had thought about it himself. He just didn't expect his Sergeant to come to the same conclusion so quickly, with so little information.
"But who on Earth wants to get rid of the cat lady? She had no money, no jewellery, no car. Nothing! What's the point of taking her life?"
"I don't know, Sir. But I think the more we talk to people the more we'll find out about Agnes and that mysterious man Miss Kaminski told us about."
"The officer on duty told me he had interviewed all people in the building, but I'd rather interrogate them myself," Wojcik said pensively as they walked out of the main entrance of the apartment on Liberation Street.
"It's not like I don't trust him, but he caught them home just before they had to leave for work. They were in a haste, occupied with other thoughts, so they could have forgotten to mention something important. In any case, we have this Miss Helena Grom from the fifth floor saying someone was spying on her last night. I must have a talk with her first."
"Sir, I was thinking, maybe I could go to Cracovia to talk to Agnes' cousin Karl?" Farnicki suggested.
"Well, that would save us time, maybe we can finish interrogating everyone today if we separate. And how are you going to get there? On your scooter?! By the way, where is your helmet, Farnicki?" Wojcik asked sternly.
"My bad, Sir. I forgot it at home when they called me. I was thinking of going by train to Cracovia."
"Yeah, right! Here, take my car," Wojcik threw him his car keys.
"Sir, are you sure about this? And how about you?"
"I'll be fine, all is within walking distance for me. It's a white Lada. I parked it on the other side of the street. Oh, and Farnicki? Before you take off, make sure to take a shower and put other clothes on! You can't arrive in Cracovia looking like this!"
Farnicki thanked him, promised to change clothes, and walked away.
Before heading towards the Sarma supermarket, Wojcik walked around the corner of the apartment to have a look at the tree that stood by the church. The oak was huge and so were his branches. The closest to the ground was more than man high. One had to jump to grab the branch. Wojcik tried it. Furthermore, one had to be strong to pull himself up. The Inspector wondered what kind of peeping Tom would take all that trouble to climb into that tree and have a peek inside someone's window. Edmond was more curious to find out who Helena Grom was, rather than finding the risky pervert.
Wojcik walked back to the house to look for that stone, or object, the man threw in Helena's window, however he didn't find anything of the size that could shatter the glass. He was about to walk away, when his eyes fell on a strange cubic object lying in the rain gutter by the pavement. He bent down and picked it up. It was a small, heavy object with a groove in the middle. At close examination, he discovered that there were transparent letters engraved in the metal surface.
WPD.
The object puzzled Wojcik, and he figured that the mysterious man from the tree could have used it as a projectile. Edmond slipped the cube into his coat pocket and headed towards the Sarma supermarket.