The ambience in the room changed from one of tension to that of electric distrust, each now looking at one another, waiting for the other to speak first. The room was largely empty and dark; a few chairs were scattered around and there was a magazine on a table. The curtains were fully drawn and brown, the walls a yellow hue, dark and dirty.
‘It is not important,’ muttered Juraj eventually, quietly speaking and running his fingers through his hair, scratching slightly as they passed through to the back. ‘I shall ask of you again Miss. Your location a few nights ago—where were you?’
Edgar interjected. ‘Alright Juraj, that is enough now. Please, Miss Martarova, take a seat. We have much to go over, and though brash in his opening and coarse as he may be, Juraj here has just lost his brother. He would like answers to this riddle as much as I, who happens to be running out of the time afforded to me by my good superiors back in the state of Moscow.’
Stroking his face and with a slight bite of his nail, Edgar spoke calmly, easing the presence of the room and commanding order into a hostile and tense situation.
Lenka looked around the room with a puzzled expression and an overly confused state. Her dark eyebrows drew downward, crunched into a look of contemplation; she screwed her lips into a tight ball.
She turned towards Juraj and her face moved from that of fear and distrust to one of sympathy and heartfelt condolence.
‘Juraj,’ she whispered, ‘but of course, it is you. Peter had mentioned you, and it must be true—you do look so alike.’ Her eyes gave a look of pity for the man who stood there, wavering and alone in the world, still no closer to finding the murderous monster who had taken someone from both of them.
‘I—I suppose he never did manage to give it to you,’ she spoke, looking at Juraj first then turning to Edgar, who listened with piqued interest.
‘Who, Peter?’ Juraj questioned. Lenka nodded.
The detective moved towards the sitting area and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. He looked straight at Lenka and asked directly exactly what it was Peter was planning to give Juraj.
Lenka was staring at her feet and she looked up with a great smile, her eyes filling with pride, like a young girl, happy again.
‘It was truly beautiful, the most gorgeous gift: a real special prize. You would have liked it very much I suspect. I must confess I hoped for such a gift myself from Peter.’
Juraj could not wait any longer and spoke abruptly, ‘Well, Christ! Do tell, won’t you? What gift do you speak of?’
Smiling with bright eyes and gazing with glee, she opened her lips and spoke words so softly, with gentle calm. ‘A quite extraordinary brooch—I’ve never seen one quite like it.’
Edgar and Juraj turned and looked at each other with shock and amazement. They both let out a sigh of exasperation and the detective stared off into the ceiling, shaking his head slightly, clearly questioning what on earth this all could mean.
‘I’d found it inside his jacket. I really hadn’t meant to go snooping, I simply fancied a cigarette and Peter was in the shower at the time,’ Lenka stated, her eyes dancing as she recalled the story and the emotion that came with it. ‘At first, I thought the gift might have been for me, so I was quite giddy and excited.’
Smiling, with a twist and twirl of her finger within a lock of her hair, she reminisced with attentive detail, pleased to be helping the pair’s cause. ‘Then I remembered, Peter had mentioned it would be your birthday soon, Juraj, so I figured it was meant for you. Quite extraordinary, really.’ She smiled and then her face turned more serious and incumbent, as an idea or thought swept across her mind.
‘Did you get the gift, after all, Juraj?’ she asked inquisitively.
‘No, Lenka,’ responded Juraj soberingly, ‘and it’s evidence now in the cas—’
‘Alright, Juraj,’ Edgar interrupted cautiously. ‘That’s enough on this matter.’ He raised his head, stroking his beard as he looked at Lenka, analysing her and interpreting all the information he had gleaned so far. A slight humming was audible from his throat.
Clearly, he was surmising something, thought Juraj.
‘May I ask you a personal question?’ Edgar probed, respect and discipline in his voice. Juraj could not be sure if it was an optional question or not and, from Lenka’s reply, it appeared she felt similarly.
‘I suppose you may,’ she pursed quietly.
‘You and Peter, how close were you exactly,?’
‘I—’ she stuttered, fighting and searching for the words that stood frozen within her throat, like a lump that could not be swallowed. Her stomach began to turn into the faintest of butterflies and her eyes began to well as she felt her chest grow tighter, her heart aching and torn.
‘You might say that I loved him,’ she finally whispered, spoken with courage and valour. It was clear to Edgar what her next words would be. ‘He would have described us as good friends,’ Lenka completed the sentence, a tear dropping from her cheek onto the floor. The silence and solitude were so thin and ambient you could almost hear it splash as it hit the carpet floor.
Offering a consoling pat on her shoulder, Edgar passed her a tissue from within his pocket. He told her the information she had provided would be highly valuable, and that she was a great assistance to the investigation.
After a while, Edgar looked at Lenka and asked her for one last final resolution. Why had she left Prague, and under what terms did she part with Peter?
She explained that Peter had stated he would see her again soon, but he had no interest in taking her
