"Saved by a mobile. Thanks
to technology." Hendrych was relieved.
"Promise me you'll never mention it again."
"Why?"
-------
At
Katoomba police station there were a few young backpackers
who came to register for a day trip, a recommended precaution.
Nothing unusual. Kroupa assumed that a Senior Constable wouldn't be
involved in such a mundane activity. It was really very simple. One
produced a photo card or a passport, the details were photocopied,
the destination and expected time of return were recorded, and
‘Next’ please. Kroupa joined the queue as he was interested in the
procedure. When it was his turn he asked: "May I have a word with
Senior Constable Milton? DCI Kroupa. The Senior Constable will
know."
"Is there anything wrong? We follow the same
proce
dure
every day and there hasn’t been a single complaint." The
Probational Constable asked with a scared look on her
face.
"I observed
you and everything was okay. I’m here on another matter.
Will you please announce me?"
"
Of
course, Detective Chief Inspector."
Moments later Kroupa was ushered
into the spartan office of the
officer in charge.
"Good day, S
enior Constable. How do you do?" Kroupa began.
"How do you do? You can dispense with the niceties and call
me Andy
."
"In that case you
can call me Rowan. All my friends call me
Rowan."
"
My
pleasure, Rowan."
"
So,
Andy, where do we stand with the fingerprints in the Winterbottom
case?"
"As we expected, there were many latent prints of
Winterbottom, some patent - almost plastic prints of Whiteford -
you know she had blood all over her hands, the same prints were on
the fire-poker, and there were some foreign prints which don't
match any exemplar prints on our database. Sorry, I can't help
you
there."
"Where were thos
e, the ones they don't match?" Kroupa
asked.
"They weren’
t very clear, as you can imagine. The poker is of cast iron
and the handle old wood." Milton answered with little
interest.
"Have you any
pictures of these? I would appreciate any copies you can give
me."
"No problem. I
think they are of Winterbottom's relatives and friends."
"Were
any of them on the phone?"
"Funny you ask.
I don’t think there were any."
---------
Late in the afternoon
in the Hydro the house-phone rang. "Miss Baldwin
is down in the foyer asking for you."
"What is Miss
Baldwin's first name?" Kroupa asked, sensing a
development. There was a pause and then the voice came back, "Her
first name is
Angelina
. She says she talked to you
yesterday."
"Okay, I'll be
down in a minute. Ask her to order something and charge it to
me."
Angelina
was sitting at the
bar sipping a Bloody Mary, looking around. When she spotted Kroupa
she jumped off her bar stool, almost tipping the glass over and
called loudly, "Here I am, Mister Detective, come and have a drink
with me."
Kro
upa, slightly embarrassed, joined her and ordered his beer.
"What brings you here, Miss Baldwin? I didn't except you so early?
What news have you brought me?"
"No news, just a can. Here." She took a Coca Cola
can
out of
her bag. "I thought you might be interested."
"Why w
ould I be interested in a can of Coke?"
"Because you wanna find our thieves, don't you?
You
promised."
"And how
can I find them with your Coke can?"
"Because of
the fingerprints."
"
How
and what fingerprints?"
"
This can was standing on the shelf where there are tins of
corn. It shouldn't have been there. It shouldn’t have been there;
do you understand?"
"Sort of. Go
on."
"I rec
kon that the thief wanted to steal it, somebody disturbed
him and he put it in the wrong place. You see?"
"Why do you
think we can find the thief with the help of this can?"
"There must be
his fingerprints on it."
"You didn't
handle it?"
"Sure I did, how els
e would I bring it to you? My fingerprints will be
newer than the thief's ones. I think."
"The can is a bit warped.
"
"It must have
fallen somewhere. What about it?"
"Nothing. I just wondered why you sell warped cans. That's
all. Thank you very much for your effort. Here is ten dollars for
the coke and your train fare. I
’ll keep the can for examination. Now I
have to get back to work. Much obliged."
"What?"
"Never mind. Have a nice day, Miss
Baldwin. Goodbye."
Angelina
hesitantly left and
Kroupa took a deep breath, shook his head and let out a loud sigh
of relief. "What a dill." He took the can with his two fingers by
its top edges and carefully placed it in a plastic bag. It was too
tall for it, and he solved the problem by putting another bag over
it. Then he rang the editorial office of the local Gazette. "Any
interesting stories for the next issue?"
"Nothing important. 'The
‘Lost Bear gallery' reported a missing dog
Nugget, some parents have reported the abduction of their teenage
kids Greg and Mark, and there’s a missing talking parrot called
Shakespeare, that's all. It’ll all be resolved before we go to
print. Have you got anything interesting? Please? What’s new with
the Winterbottom case? Did the Whiteford woman do it? It would be a
great story. Best friend kills neighbour. Invent something if you
have to. Suspicion, possible leads, anything printable. It's a dead
season… the kids are off school, there are a lot of public holidays
– we’re desperate for stories. When you come up with something...
anything, you’ll call me straightaway, won’t you?
Please!"
"With all due
respect, it's you who should provide me with
information and gossip. After all, you know the people around here.
We’ll keep in touch." Kroupa had an idea and headed for
Winterbottom's house. The place had been left untouched. He noticed
the slanted mirror, unwashed cups and plates, two of each, probably
left from previous visits. He wondered if it was Miss Whiteford who
had been visiting. He looked around the kitchen and saw an open
coke can on the window ledge. It was slightly damaged, as if
somebody had unskilfully tried to open it. An old lady with clumsy
hands perhaps? However, another damaged coke can was on his mind,
namely the present from
Angelina
. He carefully took the newly discovered can off the window
ledge and placed it into another two plastic bags. 'What a
coincidence.' He grimaced happily.
He slowly walked to the hotel, put on a tie and
jacket,
placed the two coca cola cans in a tote, called Sara, who
didn't mind going out, and both set off for the police station in
the scorching heat.
"You wanna see Milton?" the woman behind the counter
greeted
him.
Kroupa was surprised
by her tone of familiarity. "Senior Constable
Milton? Yes, I'd like to see him."
"Mr Kroupa, how do you do? What brings you here
and how can I help
you?"
" Can we go
into your office?"
"Certainly, bu
t it's messy there. I wish I were brought up to be
tidy. It's too late now. Not even Mandy can teach me." He smiled at
the policewoman.
Kroupa
correctly assumed the Mandy was the young woman behind the counter.
He followed Milton to his office.
"So, what can
I do for you?" Milton asked.
Kroupa carefully took
the two cans out of his canvas tote, one full and
the other now empty. "Could you please check these cans for
fingerprints against the exemplar prints on your
database?"
"Is that all?"
wondered Milton.
"And I would li
ke to have a talk with Sandra Whiteford. Is that
possible?"
"You want to talk to her
right now?"
"If it's
possible, yes."
"If she's not
asleep, I guess so. Let me check."
After a few minutes
he returned. "She is in the waiting room,
waiting."
A
frail Miss Whiteford was waiting, crouched, her shoulders
drooped. Her small figure begged for pity. She shook when she heard
Kroupa approaching. He was aware he had to put her at ease, if he
wanted to have a meaningful conversation. "Good evening, Miss
Whiterord. I am truly sorry for disturbing you so late. I am a
detective. Kroupa is my name. Rowan Kroupa."
"
Please promise me you find the person who killed my Trudy,"
was her plaintive cry in response.
"I promise you I'll do my best, but I
need your help. Can you talk
about Miss Winterbottom now?" Kroupa purposely used the family
name, to create some distance. He thought that it would make Miss
Whiteford’s task easier.
"If it will help, of course
."
"How long did
you know Miss Winterbottom?"
"We knew each other
since she moved here, to Medlow Bath. I’ve always
lived here."
"How many years? Approximately forty or
fifty?"
"Oh, no. Only about twenty
or twenty five. You see, some people say
that we looked like we were of similar age, but I am twenty-five
years older. Trudy looked my age because she was worn out. She used
to drink, to drown her memories and sorrows. Trudy was only forty."
Miss Whiteford began sobbing again. Kroupa waited patiently until
she’d regained her composure, then he asked, "Do you know what
troubled her?"
"No, I don't. It could
’ve had something to do with the photograph. You
see, for a long time she was normal. We’d talk, but not about the
past. Once I asked her if she had any photographs to show me. You
know… from when she was younger and before she moved to Medlow
Bath. She resisted first, but then she took out an album. It
slipped out of her hands and I remember that they were shaking.
When it opened up I saw that there were pictures of many people,
friends of Trudy embracing each other. And there was a photograph
of a baby.
I asked who all the people
were, as anybody would, but she said she’d
forgotten after so many years
and didn’t want to remember any
more
. Then
she began to cry so I didn't ask again.
Since then I never asked her anything about her past. I always say,
'what you don't know you can't gossip about'. It’s my motto. I
guess that there was something in Trudy's life she tried to forget.
That's what I think. Trudy was a fine woman; the young ones today
will never be like her. I will miss her… I already miss her
now."
"Miss Brunt
claims that you argued with Miss Winterbottom. Is that
so?"
"
Now
that I look back on it, we started to argue after the incident with
the photo album. She became very edgy, if you know what I mean,
very irritable. She was upset about her irritability, started to
take some medicine, and I suggested that we should argue as a game.
We would first agree on what we’d argue about. Then I would come
over and we’d have some tea. I seemed to help her."
"And
that’s the way the unfortunate day she died played itself
out?"
"Yes and no. I’
m sorry, but I didn't play by the rules. Sometimes
I really argued and that’s what happened that day. I went back
later to apologise, but it was too late." Miss Whiteford was
crying, her sobbing muffled her speech. Kroupa again waited, this
time for a longer time. Then out of the blue he asked, "Did Trudy
like coca cola?"
"Trudy? She hated it. S
he told me that she’d never taken illicit
drugs or drunk coca cola. She even hated the posters and the way
they served it at fast food outlets. She reckoned that all their
advertising should be banned. She said that it was a strong poison,
which first made people fat and later led to diabetes. It’s weird,
but I also remember her saying that people who drank Coke were
vulgar. Why do you ask?"
"
Oh,
no reason… just a thought." Miss Whiteford seemed not to register
what he’d said… she was lost in her memories.
"Would you be
long?" constable Milton asked, wondering when he’d
be able to go home and have his supper. His supper regularly
included a glass of Shiraz and he wanted it badly.
"We’
re done. Thank you, Miss Whiteford. You don't know how much
you helped me. Thank you, senior constable Milton." As he left,
Kroupa wondered if Miss Whiteford was telling truth.