The Exiled (20 page)

‘I RUMMAGED THROUGH
some old newspaper articles, like I promised,’ Réka said. ‘Well, I didn’t really rummage at all. All I did was search the name Lakatos Sándor, and bingo – it came up straight away.’

Réka had come round as soon as Anna and her mother had returned to Kanizsa. They were sitting on Anna’s unmade bed, the door locked, whispering like schoolgirls.

‘Tell me,’ said Anna impatiently.

‘The guy that was convicted for your father’s murder was called Lakatos.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ Anna said in Finnish.

A whirl of thoughts spun in Anna’s mind, catching at the various threads that had hung loose ever since her arrival in Serbia and drawing them into a great ball of wool, so tangled, she couldn’t find a single end, let alone start unravelling it. What was this all about? Anna felt as though she no longer understood anything at all. Powerlessness, confusion and fatigue pressed down on her shoulders, blurring her vision.

‘Of course, it’s a fairly common surname, but still … Remember, I did wonder whether the theft had something to do with you,’ said Réka.

‘At the wedding there was an old man who said the wrong man was convicted of my father’s murder.’

‘What? Surely not! Wait a minute, you mean this Lakatos wasn’t the real killer?’

‘Right. And now another Lakatos has stolen my bag – and ended up dead. It’s quite a coincidence. But I can’t begin to fathom how the two cases can be linked. Besides, what I heard about my father’s death was surely nothing but hearsay. I tried to bring it up with my mother this morning, but she wouldn’t say anything. Surely she would have told me if there was anything suspicious about the original conviction, wouldn’t she?’

Réka thought about this.

‘I don’t know,’ she answered eventually. ‘I really don’t. I guess she would have said something. Has she ever talked about what happened to your father?’

‘No. Never.’

‘You’re going to have to ask her again.’

‘I know.’

‘And you should ask Kovács Gábor too. After all, he used to work with your father and he probably knows a lot about what went on.’

‘But I’ve got to find out who killed Sándor, too. I haven’t got much time left for that either.’

‘Maybe it’s the same person,’ said Réka.

‘If it is, Sándor’s killer must be pretty old by now.’

‘Didn’t the gypsy girl say that?’

Anna looked up at the primitive investigation notes she’d taped to the wall, at the grey-haired man she’d drawn in the middle without eyes or a mouth, and a terrifying scenario began to take shape in her mind.

Dzsenifer had indeed said the man was old, but it hadn’t occurred to Anna that he could be so elderly. Could he be her father’s age? Would she have to tape a photograph of her father to the wall too? The thought wrenched at her stomach. There wasn’t time for all this. She felt almost like giving up. The case was too messy, so twisted and knotted that she would never have enough resources to unravel it. The worst of it was that she could no longer see the case laid out in front of her. Instead she felt it inside her, heavy as a steel ball.

‘There’s something else too,’ said Réka.

Anna wondered whether she even wanted to hear it.

‘The fisherman, Nagy Béla, was somehow involved in the case of a boat-load of refugees drowning in the Tisza.’

‘No!’ Anna shouted.

‘The charges against him were eventually dropped. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I got the impression Béla was involved with the smuggling going on round here.’

‘It’s hard to imagine Béla having anything to do with it,’ said Anna, ‘but it’s true that most people smugglers have to know the local area like the back of their hand. They’re nearly always truck drivers, taxi drivers, fishermen.’

‘We know that Lakatos was involved in smuggling the refugees. Could Béla have something to do with it too?’

‘I suppose I’ll have to ask him directly,’ Anna sighed.

‘How can you ask him something like that? What if … what if he’s the killer?’

‘I am a police officer, remember. I know how to ask people questions. And I know how to take care of myself. Besides, I really don’t believe Béla is the killer. He wouldn’t have taken me out on the river if he was.’

‘Still, be careful. I’ll pull everything I can that was written about your father’s case,’ said Réka.

‘This is beginning to seem impossible. I’m tired,’ said Anna.

‘Can you ask that lover-boy of yours to dig out the old case files about your father’s death?’

‘He’s not my lover-boy.’

‘Well, what is he then?’ Réka scoffed.

‘Nothing. I’m going to have to give this a lot of thought,’ replied Anna, swiftly changing the subject.

‘Do that. But I’m convinced that two dead men, both called Lakatos, can’t be a coincidence. I knew the handbag theft had something to do with you.’ Réka was almost triumphant.

Once Réka had gone, Anna remained in her room for a long time, deep in thought. She stared at the papers taped to the wall so hard that they began to look as hazy as her thoughts. Threads dangled here and there, but if she was ever going to make sense of this she needed to know which of them she should pull at, and in what order.

She stood up, quietly went downstairs and pulled the old photograph album from the lower shelf in the bookcase. Its thick plastic sleeves were filled with yellowed, out-of-focus photographs from a time when the Fekete family was still intact. One of the photographs
was of her father laughing – a close-up, taken from below. Anna had been told she had taken the photograph herself the first time she’d been allowed to use the camera. She carefully slipped the photograph from its sleeve and went back to her room. She attached the photograph to the wall, next to the faceless drawing of the grey-haired man.

It now looked as though her father was laughing at her makeshift investigation. Not belittling, not mocking, but supporting her, encouraging her. Anna could almost hear her father talking to her.

‘Point up here and look carefully. Good. What a clever girl.’

AS SHE PICKED UP HER PACE
and lengthened her stride, Anna felt a sharp twinge in her lungs and she knew it was because of all the smoking and drinking she’d been doing in recent days. Péter had called her and said he wouldn’t be able to join Anna for a run because his son, Sámuel, was spending the night at his house. Anna was disappointed. To her irritation she’d even felt something approaching jealousy.

Before setting out she’d tried to talk to her mother about what she’d heard and what Réka had found out, but all her mother had said was that people had said various things at the time but it had all happened a long time ago and she didn’t believe any of the rumours. Her father had been shot and died, and that was that. Nobody and nothing could change that fact any more.

But Anna had pushed the matter: What if the real killer is walking free, alive, right here among us? she had asked. That would be almost unbearable. It would be a stain on her father’s name. He was a man who always wanted to do the right thing, to be honest, to uphold the law, unlike so many of his colleagues. At that point her mother had stopped to think, and Anna thought she might finally have pulled the right thread, but then her mother had simply said it had all happened far too long ago. And that Anna must not under any circumstances start raking it up again.

Now, as she ran, Anna tried once again to remember the day her father had died, but all she could recall were vague half-images. Her mother wailing on the rug in the hallway. Áron trying but failing to lift her up and carry her to the sofa. Ákos … where had Ákos been? Anna couldn’t place him that day. Maybe her brother had been off somewhere with his friends, drinking. Did she dare ask her mother about it yet again? She was already beside herself from Anna’s questions. Perhaps she thought Anna didn’t realise how much talking about her father’s death opened up old wounds; wounds that might
never heal properly. But Anna had noticed the effect her questions had. Her mother had tried to remain calm, but the slight tensing of her shoulders, the way her face seemed to freeze, wax-like and expressionless, the few deep breaths, had all revealed how distressing she found the subject. Anna had even heard her mother go out to the patio for a cigarette once she had gone back to her room. Her mother – a woman who never smoked. No, there was no point in trying to bring this up again.

She’d been running for almost an hour, trying to make sense of her muddled thoughts. With each step she began plotting a plan of action. First, talk to Kovács Gábor and all her father’s other old friends – Nagy Béla, Remete Mihály and Molnár László – about her father’s death. Find out who had testified at the trial. She’d have to talk to Judit too. Why had the woman lied about her husband? And how was Judit’s husband linked to Lakatos Sándor?

What else could she do? As Réka had suggested, she could ask Péter to get hold of the old case files. It wouldn’t be easy because she didn’t want to get Péter into trouble. Then there was the people smuggling. Anna suddenly realised she was mixed up in a case more complicated than she could ever have imagined.

Once she reached Békavár she turned back towards the town. She was jogging slowly downhill, lost in thought, not paying particular attention to the car behind her. It had appeared in the yard outside Békavár and had driven along the breakwater to the intersection of the road and the pathway as soon as Anna had run past. The car had waited a while on the breakwater, as if surveying its surroundings. There was nobody else out and about.

Anna only noticed the car when its motor roared and it began accelerating. The noise startled her; she looked behind her, stumbled on a crack in the pavement and hit her knee so hard that she cried out in pain. She saw the car hurtling towards her and managed to roll out of the way just in time. The car continued on its way, its wheels screeching, and disappeared as it headed into the town.

Anna lay on the ground gasping for breath. Her heart was
pounding so hard that it felt as though it might burst out of her chest. A thick trail of blood was trickling from her knee, but the rush of adrenaline from the fright smothered the pain. She hadn’t had time to see what kind of car it was. She couldn’t even say what colour it was, because as it approached her it had looked like nothing but two enormous floodlights, a monster’s glaring eyes. A few more centimetres, millimetres, even, and the monster would have crushed her.

All night Anna’s thoughts kept returning to the car, so that she couldn’t get to sleep. Was it a black car? What size was it? But all she could see were the dazzling lights heading straight towards her, and again she felt the fear and her heart racing. Had someone tried to kill her? Or was the purpose simply to frighten her? A sudden encounter with a speeding car didn’t seem like an accident. Nobody would drive that recklessly unless it was intentional.

Maybe it was just kids playing around, she tried to tell herself. A group of drunken boys would be sitting somewhere, laughing at the terrified look on her face. After a few drinks this silly, dangerous game probably seemed like a hilarious prank. That must be it, thought Anna though she had barely convinced herself. Still, she decided not to tell anyone about what had happened; she didn’t want to worry her mother or her friends.

Just as Anna was finally about to fall asleep, her phone rang.

It was Rambo.

Dzsenifer had disappeared into thin air, and nobody knew where she was.

‘
WHY DID YOU LIE
to me?’

Anna and Judit were walking through the sweltering town towards the old cemetery. The heat was already radiating from the asphalt and the whitewashed walls of the houses, making the air humid and uncomfortable. Judit didn’t feign surprise or pretend she didn’t understand.

‘I was ashamed,’ she said. ‘Because you’re with the police, and everything else.’

‘Everything else?’

‘You live abroad, you’re sophisticated, smart, rich – all kinds of things I can barely dream about. The fact that you came to the house and talked to me, treated me like a human being. It was somehow so … I just didn’t want to spoil it.’

Anna didn’t know what to say. She smiled cautiously at Judit.

‘I understand the bit about the police,’ she said eventually. ‘It can’t be easy to tell a police officer that your husband is a convicted criminal.’

‘Yes, though I must admit those other things felt even more overwhelming. You know, I rarely ever get to feel anything other than worthless. There aren’t many people in this town who are openly racist, but sometimes it feels as though silent contempt hurts far more than the shouting and name-calling. Sometimes I wonder whether I exist at all, whether I’m nothing more than an unpleasant smell in the air.’

‘It must be difficult,’ said Anna, though she knew it sounded trite. She wanted to change the subject.

‘Your husband knew Lakatos Sándor. Did you know him too? Are you somehow involved in everything that’s been going on here?’

Judit didn’t answer straight away. They crossed the railway tracks and sat down for a moment in the shade of the cemetery walls. Judit had a bottle of water in her bag and offered Anna a sip.

‘It’s all so complicated. I was frightened. I still am.’

‘Of what?’ asked Anna.

‘I’ve tried to ask the cards, but they won’t tell me anything.’

Anna felt like telling the woman to forget her stupid cards and start talking. Forget the
tiszavirág
and the worlds we can’t see, she wanted to say, and tell me in your own words what you know about the reality right here before our eyes. But she didn’t want to pressure her. Judit wasn’t the kind of person who would open up if Anna grilled her.

The stone wall felt cool against Anna’s back. She pressed her head against its rough surface and closed her eyes. I have all the time in the world she told herself. I mustn’t rush anything just because I’ll soon have to leave. Everything will resolve itself. All of a sudden everything will work out; the mists will clear, the sky will turn bright and the truth will be revealed, and I will be free of this burden. I have to forget about time, to stop running against it. An inexplicable calm descended around her and for the first time in weeks she breathed freely. It only lasted for a moment.

‘Something happened the night you turned up at my window,’ said Judit. ‘Dzsenifer was at our house.’

‘I guessed as much,’ said Anna.

‘The girl was petrified. I hid her in the kitchen cupboard and told her to be quiet. Then you appeared in the street shouting. Once you’d left I tried to ask the girl what she’d done, but she wouldn’t tell me. Then she dashed out of the house, and I haven’t seen her since.’

‘How do you know each other? What’s the connection between your husband, Sándor and Dzsenifer?’

‘It was Sándor that beat up that man. My husband took the blame for it, and now he’s doing time.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Sándor had a lot of good business deals coming up. He said he’d give us half the money if my husband did the time so he
could continue working. My husband was unemployed. He was planning to go to the West to beg – to Germany or Belgium. So we all thought this might be the best solution. Sándor could continue with whatever it was he was up to; my husband would take the rap for the assault – the sentence was only just over a year long; we’d get the money and we’d be able to visit him in prison. If he’d gone abroad, we wouldn’t have seen him for at least six months. Who knows, he might even have stayed there.’

The gate to the cemetery clanged open and shut, and Anna watched an old woman move slowly across the railway tracks, her visit to a loved one’s grave now over. Anna wiped her brow.

‘Do you know anything about what happened to my father?’

‘No. Why would I know about him?’

Anna told Judit everything she’d heard. The woman listened intently, occasionally nodding her head. Again Anna had the distinct, unnerving sensation that Judit was reading her thoughts.

‘That’s right, now I remember,’ said Judit when Anna had finished the story. ‘Sándor once mentioned that one of his relatives had been executed for a murder he didn’t commit.’

‘Did he ever talk about who the real killer might have been?’

‘No, at least not to me.’

‘Is there any way you could find out the names of the witnesses who testified that the accused couldn’t have killed my father?’

‘I don’t see why not. I’m happy to ask around for you,’ said Judit.

‘And now Sándor is dead too. After stealing my handbag.’

‘Nothing happens by chance,’ said Judit, staring into the distance.

‘I’m terribly worried about Dzsenifer.’ Anna paused. ‘She’s disappeared again.’

‘I swear to you she’s not at my place this time. I lied before because I thought I was protecting her. It was a stupid thing to do.’

‘I don’t have time to do everything. Could you ask around about Dzsenifer too? Try to find out where she’s hiding? I’m sure that girl saw her brother being killed. I’m worried she might be in danger.’

‘What should I do if I find her?’

‘Send her as far away as possible, somewhere she’ll be safe. And don’t tell anyone where she’s gone, not even me. But do let me know she’s safe and sound.’

‘Poor child. She has nobody now. When we find her, and I want to believe we will find her, I’m going to take her in and she can live with us.’

Judit’s words moved Anna. She cursed herself for letting her stay with Rambo; for not taking the girl with her. It was an incredibly stupid mistake. If something happened to her, Anna would never forgive herself.

‘That would be wonderful. Could you really do that?’

‘I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem.’

‘We will find her. I want to believe it too.’

‘There’s something else I saw, too,’ said Judit.

‘In the cards?’

‘No, in our street, the night when you turned up. It was after you’d gone.’

‘What was it?’

‘A man walked past our house shortly after you had left. I went out to the yard for a cigarette and tried to calm the dog down. That’s when I heard the footsteps. I could swear he stopped just outside our gate and stood there for a moment before continuing on his way. It was terrifying. I was frightened to death.’

‘Did you get a look at him?’

‘Only from behind, and only a glimpse. I didn’t dare move until the footsteps were further away. He was a big man, tall. Later I thought it might just have been a passer-by, but what if it was the …? Good God!’

‘Dzsenifer told me the man who strangled Sándor was tall. Would you recognise the man if you saw him again?’

‘I don’t know. There was nothing remarkable about him. He was just a normal, everyday man.’

‘What about the dog? Didn’t it run up to the gate and start barking?’

‘No. That’s the funny thing. But it heard the footsteps too. Its
ears pricked and it looked towards the gate but didn’t make a sound. Perhaps it’s because I was stroking it at the time. Or maybe…’

‘Or maybe what?’

‘It might not have been a living person.’

‘Nonsense, Judit!’

‘I’ve seen dead people before. There wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary about it at all.’

‘Listen, you either saw the murderer, who was looking for Sándor, or you saw a neighbour on his way home. I don’t want to hear any more about dead people or cards or anything else like that. My head is already spinning from everything that’s been going on without all this supernatural hocus-pocus. Agreed?’

‘Very well,’ said Judit.

‘Let’s lay these flowers, shall we? And when you hear anything, let me know immediately. If anyone can testify that Lakatos didn’t kill my father, I must find out who they are.’