Rogue Angel 53: Bathed in Blood (7 page)

11

The tavern consisted of one long rectangular room with a bar on the left and a dozen or so round-topped tables and chairs on the right. Two customers were sitting at the near end of the bar and a handful of others at the tables. There didn’t appear to be a waitress; if you wanted something you walked over to the bar and asked the barkeep.

That was fine with Annja; she didn’t want to deal with any more people than necessary.

She crossed the room and took a stool at the far end of the bar, away from the other customers and with a good view of the entrance. As she sat down a door to her right opened and a woman came out carrying two plates of food. She set them down at the end of the bar and called out to the barkeep before disappearing into the other room once more. As she did so, Annja got a good look into the kitchen just beyond and noted the open door at the far end of the room leading outside.

At least there’s another way out, she thought.

A metal clip at the edge of the bar held a couple of laminated menus, and she grabbed one when she saw the barkeep eyeing her. She turned slightly so she could pretend to study the menu while keeping her eye on the entrance. She wanted a good look at whoever came in next, just in case assailant number two had decided to double back and follow her again.

When five minutes had passed and no one entered, Annja figured she was safe and focused on the menu. The smell of food wafting out of the kitchen reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since morning; she was famished.

The barkeep wandered over when she put the menu down, drying his hands on his apron as he came. He said something to her in Slovak, but then switched to English when Annja shook her head to indicate that she didn’t understand.

“Dinner or just drinks?”

“Both. I’ll have the steak and whatever dark beer you recommend, please.”

The barkeep nodded. “Be a few minutes for the steak, but I can get you the beer right away.”

“That’s fine.”

The barkeep shouted something into the kitchen, got her the beer and then left her alone until the food was ready. Annja kept her eye on the door while she waited but no one came in after her and gradually she relaxed.

Ten minutes later the kitchen doors banged open and a hard-looking woman with a hairnet and an apron deposited her plate in front of her without a word. When the hot smell of freshly cooked meat hit the air Annja forgot all about her mysterious follower and dug in with gusto.

She was halfway through her dinner when the bell above the door announced a new customer. Annja glanced in that direction, her concerns about being followed still fresh in her mind. She relaxed when she saw that the man entering the room was in his midsixties and walked with a limp. The man who’d been following her had moved much too fast to have been hampered by an injury. So she ignored him and went back to her meal.

Until he pulled out a chair and sat down next to her at the bar.

Annja glanced over and found herself staring into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. She might have been taken in by those eyes if they weren’t filled with a flatness that instantly put her back on guard and had her hand twitching for want of her sword.

He held her gaze for a moment and then smoothed a hand over his craggy face and white beard before he looked away, glancing about the room as if checking to be sure no one was watching them. Apparently satisfied that they weren’t being observed, he picked up the menu and held it in front of him, pretending to study it.

“People around here don’t like it when strangers start asking questions,” he said in English.

Annja felt a chill run up her spine. This man hadn’t been following her, but he could’ve been working with those individuals. Why else come in here after her?

Annja turned her body slightly in his direction, leaning away from the bar and giving herself more room to maneuver. “Is that a threat?”

“Don’t look at me!” he said sharply, but beneath his breath. “Keep eating.”

Annja did as she was told, her thoughts whirling. It seemed she might have misjudged the situation.

“It’s not a threat. At least, not from me.”

Keeping her voice low and her attention on her plate, she said, “That’s a bit contradictory, wouldn’t you say?”

He grunted but didn’t say anything more. The barkeep stepped over and asked what he wanted. The man ordered a lager and was quiet until his drink was set in front of him. Once the barkeep had gone back to his place at the other end of the bar, the newcomer said, “You’ve been asking questions about the killing the other night, flashing that girl’s picture about. That can be dangerous, Ms. Creed.”

The fact that he knew who she was didn’t surprise her. He had sought her out after all. But Annja had no intention of acknowledging his comments, at least not until she knew who she was talking to and maybe not even then. Instead, she asked him a question.

“Who are you?”

He considered his response for a moment and then said, “A friend.”

Annja shook her head as she stabbed a piece of meat with her fork. “Not good enough,” she said, taking a bite.

“It’s going to have to be.”

Annja wiped her face with her napkin and made to get up from her chair. “Nice chatting with you.”

The stranger’s arm shot out and pinned her wrist to the bar, the bulk of his body hiding his action from the barkeep and the other customers.

“You can’t leave,” he said.

Annja’s free hand twitched and she almost called her sword, but she managed to resist the impulse at the last moment. Her anger, however, was less controllable. “Get your hand off me before I cut it off,” she said in an icy tone.

“There is a man waiting across the street. I believe he’s looking for you. It isn’t safe for you to leave,” he said. “Not yet.”

He took his hand off her arm as requested.

For a moment she considered marching over to the front door and going outside, just to see what would happen, but then her good sense asserted itself. She’d already had one confrontation tonight—she didn’t need another. Annja settled back into her chair and waited for her companion to make the next move.

She watched from the corner of her eye as he casually looked around the room, checking to see if anyone had noticed their interaction. Then he glanced at her and went back to staring at the bar top.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

Annja accepted his apology with the slightest of nods.

“My name is Novack. I didn’t come here to harm you. On the contrary, I came to warn you that you’ve chosen a dangerous path. If you persist in asking questions, you’re only going to draw attention.”

“Attention from whom?” Annja wanted to know.

“The wrong kind of people.”

Annja leaned closer, her emotions flaring. “A woman was murdered. If my questions bring those responsible out of hiding, then so be it.”

“They’ve already killed once. Who’s to say they won’t make you their next target?”

Annja smiled but there was no warmth in it. “They’re welcome to try,” she told him.

Novack—first name or last name?—glanced around and then reached inside his coat. Annja stiffened, expecting him to pull a weapon, and was relieved when it turned out to be a small manila envelope.

He slid it across the bar toward her hand.

“I was hoping you might say that. Meet me in the Church of the Holy Savior in Čachtice tomorrow evening at seven if you want to know more.”

Annja frowned. “I’m not going to meet you anywhere,” she said, even as she picked up the envelope and opened it. “Why would I meet with someone who won’t even tell me their full name?”

She glanced inside the envelope and her breath caught in her throat. Staring up at her was a color photograph of a naked woman lying dead on the ground somewhere. The front of the photo was stamped with the word
Doklad
in bright red.

That was a Slovak word she knew.

Evidence.

“What on earth...?” she began, looking up, only to find Novack halfway across the tavern headed for the exit.

She opened her mouth to shout after him, but then remembered how careful he’d been to avoid being seen speaking with her, and cursed under her breath instead. She jumped off her bar stool, threw some money on the bar to cover her bill—and then some, she thought—before hurrying to catch up.

By the time she reached the street, however, she was too late.

Novack was nowhere to be seen.

12

With Novack’s words of warning echoing in her head, Annja kept a sharp eye out as she made her way the last few blocks to her car. She didn’t see anyone following her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there somewhere, watching her. When she reached her car she got in, locked the doors and drove straight to her hotel.

Inside her room, she pulled the photograph out of the envelope and sat down to have a closer look.

When she’d first seen the photo she’d thought it might show the woman she’d tried to rescue, but now she realized that wasn’t the case. This woman was not only blonde where the other was brunette, but she was also taller with a slimmer build. She was lying on her side, her eyes open and staring at the camera, and Annja could feel the accusation frozen forever in that gaze.

Find them
.
Find whoever did this and make them pay.

As with the woman Annja had found, there were no major wounds or other visible injuries to suggest a cause of death. Annja looked for the puncture wounds that had been described in Jane Doe’s autopsy report, but the woman’s position prevented her from seeing if they were present.

She didn’t want to jump to conclusions. She had no idea where or when this photo was taken. It might not be related to the other case at all. He might be using it to lure her in for some reason.

But the more she looked at the photo, the more she stared into the dead woman’s unseeing eyes, the more convinced she became that whoever killed this woman had also killed the other.

That made at least two. Were there more?

She didn’t know, but she intended to find out.

Grabbing her laptop, Annja fired it up and spent some time searching for new reports of murdered women in the Trenčín region of Slovakia. While she was able to pull up a few incidents, she didn’t find much beyond articles about the press conference from earlier that morning.

If she wanted to get to the bottom of this, it looked like she’d have to meet Novack at the appointed time and place after all.

Both excited and frustrated by the day’s events, Annja decided to call it a night. She took a quick shower to rid herself of the dust kicked up from the day’s canvassing efforts and climbed beneath the sheets, thoughts of the dead women dancing about in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

T
HE
FOLLOWING
MORNING
had its own share of surprises. While enjoying a coffee and croissant in the hotel dining room, Annja glanced at the TV and saw Detective Tamás stepping up to the podium for another press conference. English subtitles were running along the bottom of the screen, allowing her to read along.

Tamás looked somber in a dark suit and tie, but he seemed to give off an air of smug satisfaction as he addressed the small group of reporters.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here. We have two pieces of news to share with you this morning.

“The first is that we’ve identified the victim as Marta Vass, a twenty-three-year-old student from Budapest who was here on a sightseeing expedition.”

Reporters began shouting questions, but Tamás held up his hands and waited for them to quiet down before continuing.

“The second is that as of 8:45 a.m., we have charged Csilla Polgár with the crime of murder in the first degree.”

Pandemonium broke out as all the reporters began shouting questions. Annja sat there, staring at the television in shock.

On screen, Tamás waited for the clamor to die down and then said, “I can answer a few brief questions.”

A reporter in the front row raised his hand and Tamás indicated that he should go ahead.

“Can you tell us what happened, Detective?”

“Both Miss Vass and Miss Polgár are students in Budapest. We believe they were traveling together when an argument broke out and Miss Polgár killed her companion in a fit of rage with a vicious blow to the head. At that point she stripped the body and pushed it over the side of a ridge to try to hide it. Unfortunately for her, another individual came along at that moment and Polgár was forced to improvise, pretending to assist with recovering the dying woman in order to throw law enforcement off her tracks.

“The victim received medical treatment upon arrival at the hospital here in Nové Mesto, but the doctor’s efforts were ultimately unsuccessful.”

“Is there an official cause of death yet, Detective?” a reporter asked.

“Yes. According to the medical examiner, the victim was struck in the back of the head with a blunt object. This caused massive internal hemorrhaging, which eventually led to her demise.”

Annja shook her head in disbelief. She’d held that woman in her arms and hadn’t noticed any such injury. Nor had the autopsy report mentioned anything even remotely similar.

What was going on here?

“Can you tell us who the third party is?” a reporter shouted, while another asked, “How do you know this other individual isn’t involved, as well?”

“I am not at liberty to reveal her identity at the moment. Her story checks out and we’re confident that she was being a Good Samaritan when she stopped to assist Miss Polgár and Miss Vass. If you want to speak to her, you’ll have to track her down yourselves.”

Gee, thanks, Detective, Annja thought. Now every journalist in Slovakia would be looking for her!

Hopefully, they would assume the so-called third party was a local and start there, giving her some time before she had to start dodging reporters. If not, she’d deal with it. Right now she needed to talk to Tamás. She
knew
Csilla was innocent, and now that Tamás had followed through with his half-witted theory, she felt an obligation to help the woman.

On screen, Tamás answered a few more questions and then ended the press conference, disappearing back into the police station. Annja thought about calling him, but every reporter in the country would be doing the same thing right about now, trying to get the inside scoop on the charges against the alleged killer. If she were Tamás, she’d have some of the rank and file taking the calls until things quieted down. She thought she could get through to him without too much trouble—she was, after all, a material witness in the investigation—but something told her she should do this in person. She wanted to see his face and gauge his reactions.

The question was how to get in a room with him without bringing the press down on her head. Going to the station didn’t seem like the smartest choice, as she had little doubt the media would be scrutinizing anyone who entered for the next several days. It wouldn’t be hard for an enterprising reporter to match her photograph with one of the publicity stills from the show and wind up wondering what the star of
Chasing History’s Monsters
was doing here. That would bring its own media frenzy and simply exacerbate the problem.

A meeting at her hotel—either in the restaurant or her room—was out of the question for the same reason. There were too many staff members milling about.

No, she needed somewhere that was easily accessible but a little more private.

After a few minutes of thought, she came up with the perfect place.

* * *

“
D
ETECTIVE
!”

Annja had been waiting in the underground garage beneath the police station for the past half hour. The entrance was guarded by a uniformed officer, but when an overzealous news team tried to park their truck too close to the barrier, the officer had dutifully walked over to direct them elsewhere and Annja had taken the opportunity to slip past.

She’d lingered in the shadows, avoiding anyone who entered the garage while she waited for Tamás. Annja had anticipated that he might try to slip out of the office while all the media hubbub was going on, and was finally gratified to see him step off the elevator and walk toward his car, an older-model black BMW parked not too far from where she was hiding.

Tamás turned at the sound of her voice and waited for her to catch up with him. He didn’t seem surprised to see her.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Creed?”

While waiting, Annja had decided that a full-frontal assault was the best chance she had of eliciting a reaction. She summoned up an air of aggravation and said, “You can tell me what the heck is going on, for starters.”

Tamás frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“I saw the press conference this morning.”

“And?”

“And there’s no way Csilla Polgár murdered that woman! You know it and I know it. I told you as much when you questioned me earlier.”

Tamás, however, didn’t take the bait. He remained calm and unflustered as he said, “I understand how disturbing it must be for you to know that the woman you were working side by side with is, in fact, a cold-blooded killer. I’m sure that is unsettling to say the least. But that doesn’t change the facts.”

“Facts?” Annja replied. “What facts? All you’ve got is a theory, and frankly, it sounds like a rather crazy one at that.”

“Crazy as it may be, it
is
what happened. Perhaps you’ve heard the expression truth is stranger than fiction. This is clearly one of those occasions. If you hadn’t come along, I have little doubt that Miss Polgár would have left the scene far behind.”

“But that’s the thing, Detective. If she hadn’t flagged me down, I probably wouldn’t have even seen her standing there. All she had to do was back up a couple of steps and I would have driven right past. Why would she expose herself that way?”

Tamás shrugged. “I couldn’t possibly tell you. Criminals do stupid things all the time.”

Annja decided to try a different tack. “You keep calling her a criminal, but I’m at a loss to understand how you arrived at that conclusion. What evidence do you have tying her to the crime?”

“You mean besides that fact that she was there at the crime scene?”

“That’s not enough and you know it. If it were, you would have arrested me, as well.”

If his expression was any indication, he was starting to get annoyed with her, but his reply, when it came, was civil enough.

“If you remember, I came close to doing that very thing. Lucky for you we have witnesses putting the other two women together at Csejte Castle earlier that afternoon. I have little doubt that we’ll locate Miss Vass’s belongings in the very near future, and when we do, we will find Miss Polgár’s fingerprints all over them.”

“But what about the—” she almost said
autopsy
report
but realized her mistake at the last moment and switched to “—cause of death?”

“What about it?”

“You said Vass was killed by a blow to the back of the head, but I held that woman in my arms. There was no sign of an injury like that.”

Not to mention the fact that the autopsy report said the cause of death was massive blood loss.

Tamás looked at her closely, and for a moment Annja thought she’d gone too far. But then he seemed to shake off whatever suspicions her comment had prompted and smiled at her.

“I admire your passion, I truly do. But in this case I think it is misplaced. You didn’t see any sign of the injury because, as far as I understand, the damage was primarily internal. The victim’s thick hair seems to have cushioned the blow to some extent, preventing the skull from being crushed outright, but it did nothing to assuage the cerebral hemorrhaging that followed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

He nodded, then opened the door to his vehicle and slipped inside. Annja watched as he started the engine and backed out of the parking space. Instead of driving off, however, he rolled down his window.

“Go home, Ms. Creed. There’s nothing more you can do, and it will be months before the case goes to trial. When we need you, I’m sure the embassy will be in touch.”

With that, he drove out of the garage, leaving her alone in the shadows with her thoughts.