‘Peter was a good man and he took care of me, but I knew deep down he did not really love me. I could feel it in his touch—he wanted something more, and I knew I would never be the woman to give that to him.’
Lenka spoke with dignity and strength. Her mouth moved sideways and then downwards to the left, squinting, trying her utmost to compose herself.
‘He told me this though—that he would be in Bratislava one day soon, that he would pay me a visit and take me out to some nice place in the Old Town, after attending to business first.’
Edgar cleared his throat and stared at Lenka with a peculiar and most intriguing look.
‘My dear—did he state where and with whom he would be conducting this business, or the manner in which he would accommodate such profession?’
Lenka frowned and became quiet for a moment, trying to recall the details Peter may have shared with her on the subject.
Finally, she responded with slight dismay. ‘No, I am afraid I do not know very much, only that he would be meeting a good friend of his and they were investing something in a most fabulous and upcoming place. Peter told me he was concerned about this friend, whom he had met earlier in the day, as he’d been acting funny and strange.’
Pausing for a moment, Lenka gazed her eyes around the room, as if thinking hard to reconcile with her memory of a moment that had not been of much significance at the time. ‘Yes, that was it,’ she started once more. ‘Peter had told me this friend was renowned for being a heavy drinker, and that he was particularly concerned about his behaviour on this occasion, although I don’t know why, as he did not say.’
Attentive and reassuring, Edgar leaned in closer to Lenka, ‘Go on Lenka, this is good. Think now, where did Peter say they were planning on meeting?’
Lenka pursed her lips and scratched at an eyebrow with one hand, tapping her fingers against her knees with the other, the tears now dry on her cheeks.
‘It’s hard to say for sure,’ she professed, as she looked at Edgar, who remained calm and gentle. ‘Perhaps it was a place involving alcohol. Peter had made it clear he was concerned about his friend’s drinking, but the opportunity was promised to be a good one. Peter never could resist an investment, you know that, Juraj.’
Edgar stopped for a moment to process. He turned to Juraj with a look of questioning and asked him if he knew the meaning of this. Juraj scratched his head and stated that he did not. Peter had never expressed any interest in such matters as alcohol and in fact, for all his partying and bachelor ways, he was never much of a drinker.
With a smirk and a snap of his fingers, Edgar stood up with haste and announced with grandeur, ‘I know of someone who indeed does. Lenka, you have provided us with most valuable information and I assure you this was quite enough for us to proceed further. Your assistance has been most gracious and brave. I offer you my condolences for your loss. Also, if you are interested in performing further to perhaps take your career to the next level, might I recommend that in Moscow we have the most wonderful and glorious of ballet?! I have no doubt you would do excellently there.’
Beaming with joy, Lenka stood and skipped towards Edgar, hugging him with a trust and appreciation for the kindness shown to her, which most had never done without motive or intent.
‘Thank you, detective. Please catch the person responsible for taking Peter away from me,’ she spoke, with a fresh tear of both sorrow and gratitude in her eye.
‘I intend to, Miss Martarova. Stay safe,’ he responded, with a reassuringly warm smile.
Exiting the building, Edgar glanced down to inspect his watch. It was unlit and hard to make out the time and he could only see the dark hands revealing a quarter past eleven, the moon only just illuminating the numeric figures.
‘How far away is the Old Town Hotel, Juraj?’
Stepping forward, Juraj moved up beside Edgar and gestured for him to follow.
‘Come, Edgar. It is not far—I know the place,’ instructed Juraj, moving through the fallen blanket of white snow. ‘How did you know?’ enquired Juraj, turning to Edgar as they walked.
‘Know what, exactly?’ replied Edgar, a glimpse of a smile hidden under the bitter winds that struck his face with harsh, unrelenting persistence.
‘Back in the Halls of the Hrad,’ started Juraj, curiosity and intrigue bursting from his disposition, ‘You picked that man out of the crowd. How on earth could you have known that he of all people would know where to find Lenka?’
A sly wry smile fraught with years of knowledge and untold encounters swept across Edgar’s face. It was a struggle to read the detective at times. Often, Juraj felt he knew what Edgar would say next, but was frequently left surprised at something remarkable or extraordinary instead.
‘You hadn’t been to the drinking hall before tonight had you, Juraj?’ questioned Edgar.
‘No, sir, I had told you as much,’ replied Juraj, unsure of what this had to do with his initial question.
‘And yet, the location was known to you, through what means? Luck? Telepathy? Of course not. You had heard good things about the establishment, no doubt.’ Edgar spoke calmly with grace and dexterity; Juraj understood now where he was going with the answer.
‘I see your point,’ the young nobleman replied. ‘A well-renowned establishment would attract people to such a venue. Someone like Lenka, a young and rising dancer,
