‘It still does not explain how that man, in particular, would have known,’ Juraj sighed with exasperation, annoyed at himself for not being able to fit the final piece of the puzzle together. Edgar let loose a bellyful of laughter, clearly enjoying the young man’s mind ticking at rates faster than one could reasonably process at. He did delight in moments such as these.
‘It’s a simple matter,’ began Edgar, revealing his great methodologies. ‘That man, in particular, was surrounded by the most beautiful women within the entire hall and his stomach was fat enough to suggest he was a regular drinker. Logic implored me to conclude that he was there enough to have encountered the lovely Lenka at some time or another, and no doubt entertained her with his charms, or lack thereof, as we were quick to discover,’ he said, with a little wink towards Juraj.
‘What are you suggesting?’ asked Juraj.
‘Nothing,’ insisted Edgar. ‘I am simply using my intuition along with the observable facts.’
‘And the address?’ responded Juraj, his mouth half-open, stricken with both shock and awe of the simplicity and brilliance of Edgar’s deductive methods.
‘Sheer luck!’ exclaimed Edgar, his eyes wide and red cheeks full of amusement. Turning to Juraj, he placed a hand on his shoulder with a stern and serious look on his face.
‘But if he didn’t know exactly where she lived, no doubt he would have known someone who did,’ he concluded, to the satisfaction of Juraj, who nodded quietly, astounded and impressed.
The USSR truly had sent their best for the case—there was no mistaking that.
7.
As they walked down the lonely naked streets, the sounds of horses trotting in the distance trickled through the empty roads, reverberating around the buildings surrounding them. Apartment blocks, small shops selling boutique clothing, groceries, and a newsstand here and there, were all closed and quiet for the night.
‘What do you make of it all so far?’ Juraj inquired, facing the detective as they continued moving forward. ‘It’s all quite strange, isn’t it? You know… we find ourselves here in Bratislava, some four hundred kilometres away from where the crime took place. But how can it be? What lengths would such a person go to, to run or to hide? It is so very strange.’
Juraj let out a deep sigh, exasperated and strained as he considered and questioned the meaning of it all.
Juraj is right, Edgar thought silently to himself, what are we doing all the way down here?
‘It is a funny thing,’ started Edgar with a small smile. ‘I had a case once, back in Moscow, a terrible thing—’
Edgar paused for a moment whilst looking at Juraj, who looked back, simply waiting and hoping for him to complete his story. Juraj nodded, giving permission for Edgar to continue his old tale.
‘She was young—too young. I was called to investigate her… her death,’ Edgar spoke the words quieter this time, recalling the tragic memories and the feeling that hadn’t quite left him from the experience. Juraj noted a difference in Edgar’s voice from any other he had heard before now. There was a fragility to it, a distant brokenness. Something unresolved and frightening tinged the constitution of what he said next.
‘Her father begged me to find the man who was responsible. He told me, “Sir, should you find them, I ask you to bring the person back to me, alive. I want them to feel the very same pain I myself feel now. He will learn to bear the unbearable mental torment he has installed upon me. I will torture him without question. Would you do this for me?”’ Edgar shook his head slowly, breathing in the crisp air that smelt like fresh mountains when no one else was there.
Juraj felt his skin tingle and twitch slightly. The unforgiving story of the detective had thus far led him to know it would not have boded well for the father. In all likelihood, this would not be ending kindly for himself, either, as such matters of agony and anguish ever did.
‘Edgar,’ started Juraj, with a softened and curious voice. ‘Did you find the man in the end? Did he meet the end he deserved?’
Quietly and with a subtle and slow singular nod, Edgar did not meet Juraj in the eye. ‘He paid ten times for his crime,’ ushered Edgar, ‘though the screams of the father still haunt me. I allowed him his vengeance but it did not still his own torment, and years later, the man took his own life, unable to be free of the burden which had been laid upon him.’
Juraj thought he might have made out a slight tear in the eye of the great man before him, but it was too dark to be sure. Nonetheless, no further words were spoken between them until they reached the premise of the hotel. Their footsteps were the only sound to break the silence of the night and the chilling cold took over their bodies and metaphorical hearts.
The entrance of the Old Town Hotel resembled that quite closely to the one in Prague, yet this one was visibly less well-kept. More run-down, void of the same attentiveness and pristine features of detail, it looked older, yet without the class and grandiosity of its sister establishment. A clerk behind the desk greeted them.
‘Room for the night, for two?’ the clerk asked apathetically, boredom wrought within the syllables of his every word.
‘Separate rooms will be adequate,’ stated Edgar. ‘Something with a view, perhaps?’
The clerk looked up at Edgar with a blank expression
