Farnicki was walking on the edge. He realised that that was how criminals must feel when they had to wring themselves out of risky situations with the police on their heels. Only he was no criminal. But he had done everything to look like one. He hated himself for not having told Wojcik about his visit to Agnes. He knew he would look guilty, and he panicked.
The panic, disguised as confusion, began that morning when the coroner called him. At first, he couldn't believe what he heard.
Agnes Gott was murdered!
Just the other day he talked to her in her kitchen and the next day she was found dead. Poisoned like her cats. He pulled on the clothes he found on the floor and rushed to the Old Town. He was in such a haste, he forgot to take his helmet with him, violating all traffic regulations on his way.
As Victor explained to him how Agnes had died, Farnicki instantly knew that she was the target from the very beginning. Her cats were just collateral damage. The killer probably didn't know that the cats ate whatever Agnes gave them, which was the food she consumed herself. Only because of dumb luck she hadn't died earlier.
And then rage took over.
The person responsible for her death was his superior, Inspector Edmond Wojcik. Ivan grinded his teeth when he mentally addressed him as Inspector. Farnicki couldn't wrap his mind around how someone like him got promoted to one. Just thinking of the patronising manner he talked down to Ivan when the latter confronted him made his blood boil.
Next came the real panic, bordering on anxiety of being exposed.
When Greta Kaminski mentioned she had seen a man visiting Agnes, Farnicki suddenly recalled his lunch break at her place. It didn't look good for the Sergeant, for he was the last person who had seen her alive that day and his fingerprints were all over the place. Luckily, Miss Kaminski wasn't talking about him, but that excuse didn't explain his recent presence in apartment 25, no matter what the reason for his visit was.
And then Wojcik dropped the ultimate bomb when he mentioned Helena.
Farnicki had underestimated her. He didn't think she would mention what had happened that night to a police officer. She was the kind of person that wouldn't meddle in other people's issues if those issues didn't concern her. Even if there was a gas explosion, she would deny she had heard anything, simply because the damage of it wouldn't have reached her floor. Farnicki figured that she had to involve the police if she didn't want to pay for the repair of the shattered window. This way making the landlord carry the full financial burden of it.
Ivan was in over his head; however, he kept his cool and even managed to escape from meeting with Helena. Informing Karl Gott in Cracovia of his cousin's death was the perfect way out. He didn't doubt for a second that Wojcik would let him go. The Inspector was lazy and if there was a way to avoid travelling for hours to another department, he would gladly accept that offer. The fact that Edmond let him use his car was a pleasant convenience. In the meantime, he could think of how to act given the circumstances and continue avoiding Helena Grom.
It took him two hours to get to Cracovia. The traffic jams had cleared by the time Farnicki hit the highway. Although, going by car saved him a lot of time and stress, Wojcik's Lada wasn't exactly the most comfortable vehicle to travel with. There was no air-conditioning, and the radio picked up only two stations: classical music and the news channel that at intervals got interrupted by boring interviews of unknown people. His Inspector's car wasn't equipped with a navigation system either, so Ivan had to rely on the directions from the Internet, looking at his phone while driving.
Farnicki found the address relatively easy, despite the minor inconveniences. That was because Karl Gott lived in an old, prestigious neighbourhood, easily accessible for all types of cars. It was obvious that only rich people could afford living in that place and Ivan wondered what Karl did as a job. The Sergeant received a quick answer to his question, that instantly alerted him.
"Gott's Pharmacy" was a big grey building of a cubic form. It had its own parking space in front of its huge display window. Farnicki arrived precisely at lunch, for the parking space was empty. He left his car there and walked to the glass door. Luckily, the door wasn't closed yet, and Ivan was just in time to walk in because the pharmacist was walking towards him holding the keys in his hand.
"Excuse me, Sir!? What is it with you people?! Are you aware it's lunch time!? We're closed!" barked the slender man with long, dirty blond hair in a low ponytail, wearing a white coat.
"I'm afraid your sandwiches will have to wait, Sir," Farnicki replied quietly "I'm sure you can find the time to talk to a police officer."
He took out his badge and introduced himself.
"I'm Detective Sergeant Ivan Farnicki from the Resovia Police Department in the Sub-Sarmatians. Can I talk to Mister Karl Gott, please?"
"I'm Karl Gott but what does the Sub-Sarmatian police want from me!?" the man asked in a shaky voice.
"It's about your cousin, Agnes Gott. Could we talk somewhere in private, please?"
"Agnes!? Yes, of course. Wait, I'll close the door."
"Please, follow me to the back, Detective. You must excuse me; I didn't know who you were, and I didn't expect anyone from the police coming today. Please, take a seat."
Karl led him behind the cash counter and opened a door to a cold, spacious room with six long rows of racks with medications and first aid utensils like bandages, needles, and scissors. In a corner stood a white table with two chairs, a water kettle, and a coaster with three chocolate chip cookies.
"My wife has lunch at work, and my assistants have all left, so no one will interrupt us here," Karl Gott grabbed the water kettle and the cookies and carried them to the nearest rack, leaving them on one of the shelves. Farnicki snorted. He didn't expect for the pharmacist to offer him coffee or tea but the greedy way he hid the cookies from his guest revealed that Ivan shouldn't count on being offered a glass of water either.
"So, you came to talk about Agnes. How is she? Did something happen to her?"
"I regret to inform you, Mister Gott, that your cousin, Agnes Gott, was found dead this morning in her apartment on Liberation Street. Her neighbour, Miss Greta Kaminski discovered her and gave us your address. She told us that Agnes left her that address in case something happened to her" Farnicki paused.
"Oh, God! Agnes is dead?! The last time I saw her we were children. Our fathers were brothers. We took turns visiting each other during the Summer. But then we got older, and those family reunions stopped. She made sure to call me at least twice each year, and I think I have some letters left she sent me. How did she die?"
"The autopsy will show precisely when your cousin had died. As for the reason, we can say with certainty that she had been poisoned. They found cyanide in her food."
"Poisoned!? This is horrendous! Who could've killed Agnes!?"
"That is what we are trying to find out, Mister Gott. Has Miss Gott ever told you in telephone conversations about people she had a strong aversion to? Or maybe she mentioned something in her letters?"
"To be completely honest, Detective, our conversations were never open-hearted ones. We just let each other know that we were still alive and healthy. She asked me how my wife was doing or how my business was going. But neither of us ever shared anything personal. Which is quite sad, though. I'll inherit her house because I'm the only family she has left; however, we were never close," Karl said dreamily.
"You have been inside, Detective. In what state was the apartment?"
The pharmacist's eyes were twinkling with greed and curiosity to hear about his future acquisition and its possible market value. Farnicki ignored his question and instead decided to lead their conversation in another direction.
"I have a professional question for you, Mister Gott. Cyanide is not a toxin one can buy in the local grocery store. It's not that easy to get it. However, chemists who use it for professional purposes have easy access to it, though."
Farnicki saw the facial expression of the pharmacist change. The eager shining in his eyes faded when the hidden message in the Detective's inquiry got through to him.
"What are you insinuating, Detective!?" Karl's voice went up at the end of his question.
"You think I could've killed my cousin for her house!? Look around you. You see this? This is all mine! And this is only the store! I have a big modern house and a pool, for Christ's sake! Why would I need some old, smelly apartment infested with cat fleas, in Resovia of all places! Her house isn't worth anything! I can't even sell its contents because there is nothing to sell! Maybe I'll get something for the books if I'll bring them as waste paper to a recycling centre!"
"How do you know that?" Farnicki asked quietly.
"What are you talking about?"
Farnicki's unperturbed tone disturbed Karl and he felt his heart rate go up.
"How do you know she had cats? You told me you haven't seen her since childhood. Back then she wasn't a cat lady yet. Besides, only someone who has been inside that house knows that there is nothing to take, except for the books."
Farnicki's dark eyes rested on the pharmacist's countenance, studying the emotions displayed on his red face. Confusion, guilt, and rage reflected in his grey, red-rimmed eyes. Ivan could see them move from side to side, as his brain frantically tried to come up with a good excuse or lie that could get the Detective off his back. But he had nothing to say.
"I think it's better for you to leave, Detective Farnicki," Karl muttered under his breath.
As Farnicki stood up from his seat, he heard a door being shut with a loud bang in the back of the warehouse. An angry female voice instantly filled the space, resonating from the walls and ceiling.
"Karl! Where are you, you miserly, stingy bastard! Who gave you the right to set a limit on my credit card!? That's my money! You have no right to meddle with my bank affairs. I couldn't even buy a normal lunch today because of you, son of a bitch!"
The woman raged in between the metal racks, looking for her greedy husband, pushing boxes off the shelves. She didn't expect to see a stranger in the warehouse; however, it didn't stop her from throwing profanities in Karl's address.
"Lydia, calm down! I've noticed you've been ordering some things online lately and I just took a precaution for your own safety!" Karl grunted, grinding his teeth.
"That's my money, asshole! I can do whatever I want with it! I'm so sick and tired of this shit! And for your information, I've been to the bank. From now on you won't be able to spy on my bank account because the bank has denied your access to it. And if you try something crazy, I'll send my lawyer after you!"
"Lydia, we'll talk about this later," he hissed, "this is Detective Sergeant Ivan Farnicki. He was just about to leave."
"A Detective? Don't tell me you've scammed someone again, Karl!"
"Shut up! He came to inform me of my cousin's death," the pharmacist wanted to continue but his wife interrupted him.
"Is Agnes dead? That's the same Agnes you talked about recently, right? You said that when she died you would inherit her apartment in Resovia and that selling property in that part of the Sub-Sarmatians was very profitable."
"Shut up, you stupid bitch!" Karel shouted, with spit flying out of his mouth.
"No, let your wife talk, Mister Gott. This can be quite useful for the investigation," Farnicki remarked coolly.
"What investigation?" Lydia asked confused.
"Miss Agnes Gott has been murdered, Ma'am. Poisoned."
"And you think that Karl has done that?"
"I'm not accusing anyone yet, Miss Gott. I'm just gathering all the facts to form an idea of what had led to this tragedy. As for you, Mister Gott, I suggest you start consulting your personal organiser and report to me all your comings and goings in the past month. Hour for hour, minute for minute. I'm not saying this to taunt you, I'm just giving you the good advice to provide us with your precise whereabouts so that we could exclude you as a possible killer. However, you are our first and only suspect at this moment. You'll have to show up at our police station for your fingerprints. Here's my card. You can reach me at any time of day. Please, send all the information to this email address. Have a nice day."
Farnicki leisurely walked to the front door of the pharmacy, followed by Karl Gott. The latter opened the door for him and watched him get into his car and drive off. He felt relieved to see the weird policeman from Resovia leave his property, however he couldn't stop himself from shaking. Of course, he had looked forward to getting in possession of Agnes' house, but he never thought it would be so soon and so problematic. If only that stupid cow of a wife of his had kept her mouth shut! Now, he had to travel all the way down to the Sub-Sarmatians for fingerprints. He thought of doing that in the Cracovian police office so that they would fax it to Resovia for Karl to save gasoline, but he figured he shouldn't do that after Lydia had outed him as being stingy.