The Exiled (10 page)

‘Great. The next club is tomorrow at the library. That’s the final meeting before the summer break. I’ll see you there, if you can make it. Two o’clock we start.’

‘Good. See you then.’ Anna paused, thoughtful. ‘About last Friday night…’ she began, wondering how to phrase things properly.

‘Yes?’

‘If you hear anything about a girl with a red skirt or a missing Romani man, would you let me know?’

‘Of course. Would you like me to ask the cards about them?’

‘If you like. Here’s my number. I’d be grateful for even the smallest piece of information.’

‘I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.’

Anna said goodbye to Judit and Benedek. The boy had already laid his books out on the table and waved at Anna with a shy smile. What a sweet child. Anna profoundly hoped he never had to travel abroad to beg on the streets.

ANNA WALKED HOME
lost in thought. Her mother lived only a few blocks from Judit’s house, and yet it could have been a different world altogether. On the way back she stopped by a shop and bought some potatoes and chicken thighs, though she knew her mother didn’t want her to stock up the food cupboards. Cars rushed past along Szabadkai út; a spluttering tractor towed a cagelike trailer containing an enormous pig. Anna found the chaotic combination of a bygone age and the modern world charming. Horse-drawn carriages and top-of-the-range BMWs; the clucking of chickens and the braying of a donkey in the yard next to a brand-new luxury house. The square where old ladies sold vegetables from their gardens, while in the cafés around them people fiddled with tablets and smartphones.

Anna opened the gate to the house, locked it after her, watered the roses in the front yard and went to the garage to fetch the
bogrács
, a large, black stewing pot. She placed it above the outdoor hearth built of light-brown bricks, checked there was plenty of wood for the fire and went indoors. She made herself some coffee. Her mother had gone out on an errand. The house was quiet and empty. She took her coffee out to the patio and sat down in one of the soft, upholstered chairs to read her emails. Sari had sent her a message. A shiver ran the length of Anna’s arms.

Anna clicked open the attached photographs.

The man was lying on the ground with his head almost in the water. His hair and clothes were wet. She’d seen all this before. The second photograph was a blow-up of the man’s head and neck. The technician had managed to get rid of most of the pixelation so that the image now looked almost clear and bright. The man’s face was smeared with mud and his black eyes stared into eternity. The third image zoomed in on his eyes, but the zoom was so powerful, the quality was degraded. The man’s eyes seemed to be dotted with tiny red specks. Or were they?

Anna stared at the image so long that her coffee grew cold. The longer she looked at the photograph, the more certain she was that the man’s eyes were full of haematomas. There were no red specks anywhere else on the man’s face, so this couldn’t be simply the result of the grainy, pixelated photograph. Marks like this didn’t appear in drowning victims. Anna reread the autopsy report she’d received from the chief of police, searching for any mention of the victim’s eyes. Nothing. She knew the word for ‘eye’ in Serbian, but just to be
sure she looked up the words ‘haematoma’, ‘discolouration’, and all other possible terms that might have been used in reference to the eyes of the man who had stolen her handbag. The report was simple and to the point. There was no mention of the victim’s eyes at all.

She tipped her coffee into one of the numerous flowerpots on the patio. I need to come up with a rational plan, she thought. I have a total of two options: either I forget all about the matter once and for all or I start looking into it for real.

If I let the matter go, I can relax and enjoy the rest of my holiday. But then the case could plague me for the rest of my life. Is my holiday more important than getting to the bottom of the death – or murder – of this young man? Will I be sitting in a rocking chair in my old age suffering from a bad conscience while a potential murderer is enjoying retirement? Anna didn’t have to give the matter much thought before she knew the answer: she had to investigate the death of the Romani man, no matter what her mother, Réka or anyone else thought about it.

The clouds were beginning to roll back across the sky. Anna felt something tighten in her throat. This wasn’t going to be pleasant, and it certainly wouldn’t be easy, she thought; but whatever I do, I do to the very best of my abilities.

She needed a plan of action. What would she do if she’d been assigned this case at work? What would Virkkunen ask her to do? Anna went up to her room, unlocked her desk and took out some pens and a notepad.

She taped a sheet of paper to the middle of the wall and wrote a title in large letters: HANDBAG THEFT. She then began to tape other sheets of paper around the first one: crime scene; eyewitnesses from the wine fair; the girl in the red skirt. She sat down on her bed and wiped sweat from her brow – the upper floor of the house was becoming insufferably humid – then looked at the fragments of an investigation now taped to the wall and began to plan her strategy.

I’ll have to call Nóra and go through the photographs from the wine fair. I must get access to the body and examine it thoroughly.
The only problem was that the body was in Újvidék and it had already been examined. Anna decided to make an effort to find the contact details for the pathologist and ask him why the red specks on the victim’s eyes had been omitted from the report.

She suddenly remembered the bus ticket that she’d found at the scene. If the ticket had belonged to the man, the driver might remember him. That would be a start. And the gypsies. The Romanies, Anna corrected herself. If the man was a Romani, somebody in the local Roma community was bound to know him. She would have to ask around. But that meant she would have to come up with a way of gaining the community’s trust; she realised instantly how pathetic and naïve this sounded. She had only a few weeks to unravel the case. Centuries of oppression and rejection would hardly be forgotten the minute Anna told people she wanted to help.

But then Anna recalled the handsome policeman with whom she’d exchanged a few words at the station. And she had Judit on her side too. A plan quickly began to take shape in her mind.

AFTERNOON SUNSHINE
seemed to light up the Kanizsa police station, enhancing its yellow, sanded walls and making the place look warm and almost pleasant. Anna stepped into the foyer, where a few people were sitting on plastic chairs, waiting to be seen. There was someone else in the booth this time – the second female officer Anna had seen here. Her large breasts bulged inside her uniform, which was just a little too small for her, her long dark hair was tied in a neat ponytail beneath her cap, her eyes were heavily made up. The embodiment of men’s uniform fantasies, thought Anna. How could someone like that survive as a woman here when even Finland, the paragon of equal opportunity, had problems of its own?

‘Good afternoon,’ Anna began in Serbian.

‘
Dobar dan
,’ the woman replied and asked how she could help.

‘I’m looking for a Hungarian-speaking officer who was on duty here on Saturday morning. Vajda Péter is his name. It’s regarding my stolen passport and Visa card,’ said Anna but knew straight away there was something wrong with the Serbian sentence.

‘I’ll look at the rota. Please wait a minute.’ The woman disappeared into a room behind the desk and returned a moment later. ‘He’s still in a meeting,’ she said. ‘Would you like to wait?’ Then the woman said something Anna didn’t understand.

‘I’ll wait,’ Anna replied.

She sat down in the foyer and the next customer approached the hatch: a rotund, middle-aged woman, who started complaining at the top of her voice about litter in the park near the bus station. Anna didn’t understand half of the tirade, but she could hear from her voice that she too was a Hungarian speaker and that her Serbian wasn’t very good either. Once or twice the woman looked over at Anna as though pleading with her to come and help.

‘It’s a terrible mess every morning,’ the woman repeated.

The duty officer nodded and typed this into her computer. ‘We’ll
see what we can do about it,’ she said and asked the woman to fill out a wad of forms.

‘I’ll need someone to help me with these. Can I bring them back tomorrow?’

‘That will be fine,’ said the officer.

The woman picked up the papers, folded them carefully, put them in her bag and left. At the front door she turned to Anna.

‘Damn refugees turning up here, ruining our beautiful town. They camp out by the bus station and by the time they leave the place is a dump. It’s us that have to clear it up. There was shit there this morning too, human shit – can you believe it? It’s high time the police put a stop to it.’

Anna nodded but didn’t want to comment. She’d seen it on the Hungarian news broadcasts. After swarming towards the coastal regions of Italy and Greece, the tsunami of people displaced by war and famine was now surging through the Balkans towards Hungary and the EU border. The newsreader had used those very words:
swarm, tsunami, surge.
As if these distressed people – and not the warmongers and terrorists – were a force of nature wreaking untold havoc.

‘
Jó napot
,’ Anna heard a voice say behind her as the woman stormed out of the front door.

Anna turned and stood up to greet the police officer who had appeared in the foyer.
‘Jó napot, Fekete Anna vagyok.’

‘Vajda Péter. Tudok valamiben segíteni?’

‘I don’t know if you remember, but I came here on Saturday regarding my lost passport.’

‘Yes, I remember you.’

‘I thought I’d come and ask whether there’s any news on the matter.’

‘Not to my knowledge. I assume you heard that the thief was found dead.’

‘I know. How awful. Have you been able to identify him yet?’

‘No.’

‘Has anyone found my belongings?’

‘We can check on the computer. Galina! Can you see if this lady’s belongings have turned up?’

The curvaceous policewoman began tapping at her computer without asking for Anna’s name or social security number. So they knew who she was. A moment later Galina shook her head.

‘It seems not, I’m afraid. There’s nothing else I can do at the moment,’ said Péter. ‘Have you been in touch with your embassy?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Anna lied. She would have to do it immediately. ‘I was wondering whether…’ Anna paused and took a breath, ‘… you’d like to have coffee with me. Only if you have time, that is.’

A cautious, complacent smile spread across the man’s lips. Had he been expecting this to happen? Anna wondered. Good. That will make things all the easier.

‘Right away?’

‘Yes, I’m free now. But I understand if you’re busy…’

‘I’m sure it can be arranged. I just need to pop into my office. I’ll be back in a moment. Why don’t we drive to Horgos? It’s nice and quiet there.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ said Anna.

THEY TOOK PÉTER’S CAR
to Horgos, a small village right on the border with Hungary. Horgos was the site of the largest and most important border crossing between Hungary and Serbia, and was the very place where Anna had passed between the two countries only days earlier.

Péter talked over the car radio, telling Anna all about himself. He was originally from Novi Sad, or Újvidék as the Hungarians called it, where he had entered the police academy. He had moved to Kanizsa six years before and liked both the town and his work very much. He often spent his days off and holidays in Újvidék. He didn’t mention a wife or children, but Anna wouldn’t have expected him to in a situation like this. He wasn’t wearing a ring, though Anna thought she could make out a lightened stretch of skin across the base of his left ring finger. Did you go to your office to take off your ring? Anna wondered.

Péter wasn’t surprised when Anna told him she was a police officer, too, and she guessed there had been talk about her at the station. Péter seemed genuinely interested as he asked about Anna’s work, and police training and career possibilities in Finland. The short journey passed breezily, and Anna felt light and relaxed. This is going well, she thought.

A single street ran through the village of Horgos. Along that street were a few shops and a bakery, which also served as a café. Péter pulled up outside the bakery, stepped out of the car and opened the door for Anna. The place was surprisingly busy. A long queue of customers were waiting to buy fresh wheat bread, and there was only one free table in the café. Anna ordered a cappuccino and a large slice of sumptuous
rétes
, while Péter took a hearty-looking
burek
and a tub of yoghurt. Lunch, he explained, and said he would have a coffee for dessert. They took everything outside and sat down on the small terrace facing the street. This too was almost entirely full. Péter lit
a cigarette and offered one to Anna. She couldn’t resist the temptation and took a cigarette from the packet. The first wave of nicotine rushed to her head, making her dizzy.

‘Were you born in Finland?’ asked Péter.

‘No. I’m originally from Kanizsa. I was born at the hospital in Senta, but I’ve spent most of my life in Finland.’

‘What’s it like there?’

‘It’s difficult to sum it up. It’s a big country and quite diverse, I suppose.’

‘I heard your brother lives there too.’

‘Yes. But he’s here at the moment as well. What other gossip has there been about me at the station?’

‘Not all that much. They said your father was a policeman too.’

‘It’s like a broken record. You’re your father’s daughter, blah blah blah.’

Péter laughed. ‘My father was a history teacher. He died when I was a teenager.’

‘Really? My father is dead too. I was just a child. I can’t really remember him properly.’

Péter gave Anna a look of warmth and understanding. To her surprise Anna felt a sudden sense of solidarity with the man. She felt a twinge of her conscience as she remembered why she’d invited him for coffee.

Péter changed the subject. ‘I don’t think I could take living so far north. It must be dark and cold all the time.’

‘Except in the summer. Then it’s just cold, but it only lasts three months.’

‘
Úr Isten
, and nine months of winter!’

‘You could say that.’

‘I’d go crazy.’

‘Many people do.’ Anna pulled a face and squinted her eyes.

Péter laughed out loud.

‘Do you visit home often?’ he asked.

‘You mean Kanizsa?’

‘Isn’t that your home?’

‘I’m not sure. I’ve been thinking about this a lot these last few months,’ said Anna and surprised herself at how natural it sounded.

‘Surely a person can have many homes?’

‘Physical homes, yes. You feel at home in Kanizsa and Újvidék, don’t you? But which are you: a Kanizsa man or an Újvidék man?’

‘It doesn’t really matter. I don’t want to feel anchored in any one place.’

‘It doesn’t matter to you because Kanizsa and Újvidék are basically the same thing. There’s only about a hundred kilometres between them. I guess you’ve never had to wonder who you really are or where you belong.’

‘You’re probably right. I’ve always thought of home as where my nearest and dearest live. Or rather, the place where I can feel comfortable and … at home.’

‘In that case I probably don’t have a home at all,’ Anna said quietly.

‘Don’t you feel comfortable anywhere?’

‘Let’s not talk about this. Let’s just say I’m on a journey with these things.’

‘I get it, though I’ve never lived abroad. For me it’s enough to think of myself as a Hungarian in Serbia. That’s plenty to figure out, don’t you think?’

‘Oh yes, I know. It’s funny how there’s nowhere we can really call home.’

‘I’m at home in myself. This is my home,’ said Péter, pointing first at his chest then at his head. ‘Remember that every time your negative thoughts get the better of you.’

Anna smiled. ‘The last time I was at home was Christmas – my Kanizsa home, that is. There was a time I didn’t visit for years, but now I feel as though I want to spend all my holidays here.’

‘Are you single?’

Anna was taken aback, almost shocked at Péter’s direct question; but she managed to keep a straight face. This is my chance, she thought. To hell with the shyness, the uncertainty, the pangs of guilt.

‘Yes. If I’d been taken I wouldn’t have invited you for coffee,’ she said and smiled, tucked behind her ear a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek and gazed intensely into Péter’s eyes.

Péter gulped. The crack in his confidence only lasted a fraction of a second, but Anna noticed it, and at that moment she knew she had succeeded.

‘Aren’t you going to ask if I’m single?’ he asked.

‘No. Does it matter?’

There was a note of relief in Péter’s laugh.

They ate their pastries, drank their coffee and continued chatting about police work in Finland and Serbia. They compared working conditions, procedures, criminality and every aspect of their jobs. They talked at length about what it was like to represent a minority within a public office dominated by the majority. Péter was jovial, making Anna genuinely laugh many times, and Anna used all the powers of attraction she could muster.

When they returned to Kanizsa, Anna built up her courage and asked Péter the first favour she had in mind. Could he possibly check a few fingerprints that she’d found on her handbag? Of course, Anna would wholly understand if this was impossible or if Péter didn’t want to do it, but it would be a great help, as there were a few little things that had been bugging her, and she just wanted to reassure herself there was nothing to worry about.

Anna was sure he was going to decline politely and would never want to see her again, but Péter agreed to do what he could. He asked for her phone number, gave Anna his own and told her he was free on Thursday evening if she wanted to get together. They agreed to meet at Péter’s place.

He dropped her off at her mother’s house. After he drove away, Anna remained standing on the steps, bewildered and happy. Péter’s empathy, his interest in her and his desire to help seemed almost too good to be true.