He was interrupted by a startling knock on the door.
‘May I enter? I know you are inside, Juraj,’ came a strong, but kind voice.
Juraj cleared his throat and wiped away the fallen tears on his cheek with his sleeve. ‘Yes, do come in,’ he replied with coarseness and vulnerability in his voice.
A lady in her forties entered. She was well-built and held herself proudly.
‘Juraj—Juraj Teralov?’ she asked, looking up from her notepad; jet-black hair hung neatly in front of her face. Her focus was fixated on Juraj, who was red-eyed and appeared deeply tired.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m Inspector Lichnova,’ stated the woman, pointing towards an empty chair next to Juraj. ‘May I?’
Juraj looked at Lichnova, confused for a moment, then twisted his eyebrows as an understanding flowed over him. ‘Yes, of course.’
Lichnova sat, eyes fixated on Juraj. There was a look of pity and helplessness within them. ‘We have Milos locked away now, you got him, Juraj.’
‘Good.’
He remained grave in expression and blank-faced. He looked from where he sat and out across the room into the distance, as if focused on something no one else could see. Bird sounds bidding each other a good night nestled outside the window as the sun began to set behind the hilltops over Bratislava. An orange hue made its way into the room, breaking through the partly drawn curtains and illuminating the interior with a brightness, but only dark thoughts filled the void abyss of Juraj’s mind now. He felt lost for words, and although Peter’s death should hurt him more, somewhere, the loss of Edgar bit harder. Perhaps the sense of responsibility was what now lay a new burden within his spirit—itching and nibbling away at his thoughts like a plague of locusts, swarming and consuming whatever was left of his good sensibility and moral dignity.
Lichnova, sensing the dreary outlook of the defeated nobleman, attempted to brighten and raise his spirits as best as she knew how.
‘There was nothing more you could have done, you know?’
Juraj did not react at first and continued to stare blankly into nothingness. Then suddenly, he turned to meet Lichnova’s eyes for the first time. She saw the anguish woven deep within them and it was all she could do to remain forthright and not clasp him close in hopes of bringing some comfort to the poor desolate soul.
‘If only I had worked it out sooner, like Edgar did,’ Juraj began, his voice trembling and his hands visually shaking.
‘Perhaps I could have prevented this or seen it coming. He did not know Milos as well as I did. Always looking out for himself—the selfish type. I should have known.’
His face was disrupted with simultaneous guilt and anger, a mix of emotion whilst grief-stricken. Weary and strained, Juraj clicked at his nails, the sense of agitation and angst weighing heavy on his chest—a fuller, heavier burden to carry now than the last. If only I had seen it coming, he told himself repeatedly.
Lichnova offered a comforting hand, a slight pat on the shoulder. There wasn’t much more she could do to console the desolate fellow, a broken man. Her duty implored her to remain neutral and unbiased in such circumstances.
‘He’ll be tried here in Bratislava for his crime, you understand this? But make no mistake about it, we are sure he is guilty of murdering your brother, too. We can place him at the scene of both murders by all accounts. The information I’ve retried from speaking with the police in Prague, and various notes Edgar recorded before his passing… it makes for a solid case. Milos is guilty as charged.’
‘I understand,’ Juraj murmured. Drifting off into another place of isolation, the chamber of punishment within his mind would not yet free him or allow him to be redeemed of persecution.
‘We were about to have dinner and discuss the next plan, where to go next, who to follow, interrogate. Edgar had a plan,’ he started with a confused and distant empty-eyed expression. ‘The trail… it was leading us—’
‘Stop, Juraj,’ the inspector interrupted, rubbing his shoulder. ‘That is enough. There is no use over-thinking it now. Edgar is gone, you found Milos standing over his dead body, his blood still warm as it left him. Your episode of self-torment will not bring anyone back. What you are going through now is natural, but it is unhealthy to think as you are, a man in your position. I need you to stand up and be strong. Can you do that for me Juraj? Will you be brave and go back to Prague with your head held high, knowing you did all you could to seek reprieve for your mother? His murderer is found, and perhaps without your efforts, and Edgar’s sacrifice, it would not have been so.’
Juraj nodded in agreement. Lichnova was right—there was no use blaming himself or going over events any more than he already had done thus far. It was done—Edgar was dead, just like his brother. Milos, he thought to himself. He will hang for this.
‘Okay, Juraj, good. Now, with that said, I must ask you a few questions. It is procedure and I am duty-bound to do so. Do you understand this, Juraj?’ He acknowledged that he did.
‘Is there anything else you think I
