The Exiled (8 page)

ANNA STEPPED OUT
of the gates and into the street before six, only to note – once again – that the residents of Kanizsa still lived according to age-old agrarian timetables. The town was already awake. Almost awake. People were cycling to work, and the smell of fresh bread wafted from the bakery at the corner of the town square. The most direct route from the house to the Tisza didn’t take her through the square, but Anna wanted to look as though she was out for a walk. She didn’t want to stroll past the police station, and she certainly didn’t want to walk along the highway heading towards Törökkanizsa, where drivers would have paid undue attention to any pedestrians. Neither did she want to take the
töltés
, a pathway constructed along the top of the town’s flood defences, winding towards the riverbank like an asphalted corridor. While that would have been the quickest option, taking it would have shown without doubt that she was headed for the banks of the Tisza.

To the south, the town of Kanizsa was bordered by verdant parkland featuring a
fürdő
complete with a hotel and spa complex. It wasn’t a place for splashing around but a full-scale health spa, its various pools pumped full of the local healing spring water, rich in sulphur. It provided an incredible variety of physiotherapy, massage and rehabilitation services. The spa’s early-morning customers were already out and about in the park with their sticks and walking frames.

Anna decided not to walk directly through the park but wandered instead along its labyrinth of shaded pathways. Flowerbeds and rose bushes were dotted here and there, but the overall impression of the place was shabby. The lawns were overgrown in places and there could have been far more flowerbeds. The park’s general state of degradation saddened Anna; years ago the place had been carefully tended and kept beautiful. Situated in the middle of the park, the art nouveau Vigadó building had once served as a hub of activity for
the locals, but now its walls were daubed in graffiti and the windows were boarded up. The building’s former glory could still be seen in the arches and curves of the architecture. If only a millionaire would decide to renovate the property, invest their money in local culture rather than luxury cars and mansions, thought Anna as she walked past the house.

Attached to the tree trunks throughout the park were posters advertising the forthcoming
Tiszavirág
festival, which would be held when the river came into bloom about a week before the end of June. Anna was thrilled that she’d be able to see the flowering this year. She had vague childhood memories of the festival, when the whole family had rowed up the river, clouds of mayflies buzzing around them. It had frightened her. Anna’s father had laughed at her fearfulness, captured one of the yellowish insects in his hand and showed it to her.

‘See how gentle it looks,’ he’d said, but Anna had been revolted at its translucent wings, its large, beady, black eyes and the two long protrusions that formed its abdomen and that looked like spikes, though they were in fact soft and harmless. She couldn’t remember ever picking up one of these Tisza ‘flowers’ in her hand.

This year she would catch one, for the first time in her life.

The route to the place where the body had been found was extremely difficult going. And wet. Anna found herself wading up to her ankles in pools of muddy water that had collected in the uneven ground after the floods. It took a long time until she found the right place. There were no clearly defined paths through the thicket. After wandering round the area, beating several paths to the riverbank, only to realise each time that she still wasn’t in the right place, she finally saw some marks in the mud. They weren’t clear. The muddy terrain meant that it was impossible to make out well-defined footprints, but the twisted and snapped branches seemed to indicate a corridor through the undergrowth, leading towards the river. Anna followed this corridor, and before long she was at the spot where the fisherman had brought her in his boat.

Now that Anna had the chance to examine the location in peace, she was all the more convinced that there had been a struggle. The ground was churned up. In some spots, dead leaves were pressed so deep into the mud that only a rough tussle could have planted them there.

She spent several hours examining the scene, trying to be as thorough as she could, despite having no forensic equipment. The results: a few receipts in the bushes about four metres from the water’s edge. They were all from her bag: an extortionately expensive coffee and croissant at Helsinki airport; a bar of chocolate at a service station near Kecskemét. She took measurements and photographs of three distinct sets of footprints – two large and one small. The smaller prints were near the receipts and close to where the body had lain. There were two different textile fibres and hairs, too: a few long and black, a few short and dark; many grey hairs. And there was a bus ticket. Of course, all this could have been completely irrelevant, but Anna doubted it. Nobody visited a place like this for fun. This wasn’t a spot for a picnic; it was a jungle, almost impenetrable and buzzing with mosquitoes. The only people to visit this place were the man who had stolen her handbag and, later on, the police. And, of course, the person with whom the thief had struggled. And the little girl. The smaller footprints did not belong to an adult. Anna was convinced that the girl in the red skirt had been here by the riverbank and that the long hairs she’d found belonged to her. Had the red-skirted girl witnessed the murder, or, worse still, had she been involved in it? Had she taken the contents of Anna’s wallet? Where was she now?

Anna found the bus ticket slightly further away, in the bushes. It was a ticket printed in Serbian, issued by the Subotica Trans company, bought for a ‘Subotica–Kanjiza’ journey and stamped on June the third. There was no specific time on the stamp. If the thief hadn’t lived in Kanizsa, he may have travelled here from Szabadka. Anna carefully picked up the ticket with a pair of pincers and placed it in a small, see-through plastic bag, just as she had done with the
hairs and fibres. I’ll need to find a microscope or a magnifying glass, she thought. But then she thought, what the hell am I doing collecting pieces of evidence? I wasn’t supposed to investigate this case at all.

Anna wiped sweat from her brow, tied her hair in a knot above her head and lay down on the ground in the position the fisherman had described. The dazzling sun filtered through the trees and Anna closed her eyes. The wind rustled through the leaves, the sound of an engine carried across the river then disappeared. A branch suddenly cracked somewhere nearby. Anna looked up but couldn’t see anything. She sunk back into her thoughts.

What had happened here? What if the man had drowned after all and someone had pulled him out of the water? The girl? Would she have had the strength?

The riverbank formed a slope, so the blood ran to her head. The mosquitoes whined in her ears, biting every patch of exposed skin. Anna’s crown was almost in the water. She felt an irresistible desire to stay there, to let the insects bite her and suck her blood. But when a particularly brazen mosquito decided to bite her on the eyelid, the desire disappeared. She sat up and began flicking through the photographs she’d taken. At the third photo she remembered the selfies Nóra had taken at the wine fair. Perhaps she should look through them too. With luck they might provide a glimpse of the thief while he was still alive. And the girl.

On her way back through the thicket, Anna had the nagging feeling that someone was following her, watching her through the branches, someone who knew she had been rummaging around the crime scene. She glanced over her shoulder but couldn’t see anyone.

WET FROM THE MUD,
the legs of Anna’s jeans had dried, hard and brown, on the way home, leaving lumps of clay on the front step as she bounded straight upstairs and into her room. She stored the plastic bags in the top drawer in her old desk, which she could lock with a little key, then uploaded the photos she’d taken by the riverbank to her iPad and sent Sari an email.

Anna was just about to have a shower when her mother knocked at the door.

‘Why is your door locked?’ Her mother’s voice sounded like she was in a mood. ‘Come down for coffee. Kovács Gábor is here. He wants to talk to you.’

‘I have to take a shower before I can see anyone.’

‘Nonsense. Where have you been? And what did Béla want?’

‘Mum, keep your voice down. I don’t want Gábor to hear.’

‘He’s an old family friend – and police too, for that matter.’

‘All the same, Mum, please don’t tell anyone about what I’ve been doing.’

‘Very well. But get down here and be quick about it.’

Anna opened the drawer in her desk, put her camera, phone and iPad inside, and locked it again.

This case is making me paranoid, she thought, stuffed the key to the desk beneath her mattress and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, as the morning had warmed quickly. The forecast predicted temperatures over 30°C.

Downstairs, Kovács Gábor was sitting drinking a cup of coffee. Her mother had laid the table with freshly baked
pogácsa
scones.

‘I’ve just got back from my morning run and haven’t had a shower, said Anna. ‘Apologies if I smell.’

Anna could feel her mother’s judgement settling on her face. Apparently the smell of sweat wasn’t a suitable topic of conversation. I need a list of forbidden subjects, she thought, so that I know when to keep my mouth shut.

‘Do you work out often?’ asked Gábor.

‘Yes!’ Anna’s mother answered on her behalf, but there was no sense of pride in her voice. ‘When she was younger she was always running and training; never did anything else. It seems nothing has changed. Always out running. Always some special diet on the go for a marathon or competition.’

‘I haven’t run a marathon for years,’ Anna replied calmly. ‘And I’m not on a special diet any longer.’

‘Still. Do you ever have time to see your friends? You’re always at work or running about somewhere.’

‘Nowadays I only run for fun. I must have been eighteen the last time I did it competitively,’ Anna explained to Gábor, ignoring her mother’s comments.

‘You have to run in our job,’ said Gábor. ‘And sometimes you have
to run fast. Best to keep in shape. It’s a good thing I don’t have to do it any longer – I don’t think I’d be up to it.’ He patted his swollen belly. ‘Excellent
pogácsa
. Did you bake them yourself?’

‘Yes,’ came her mother’s satisfied reply. Anna looked at Gábor as if to thank him for diverting her mother’s attention away from chiding her.

‘You’ll have to give my wife the recipe. These are delicious.’

Her mother blushed with pride, and Anna felt the urge to say something nasty but decided against it. She wouldn’t lower herself to her mother’s level and put her down in front of guests. She would talk to her mother about it when they were alone.

‘Anyhow, there is a reason for my visit,’ said Gábor, putting down his scone. ‘I have some news. The fact is the investigation into the theft of your handbag has now been officially concluded.’

‘Why?’ asked Anna.

‘Good,’ her mother interrupted. ‘Then Anna can let the matter go too, isn’t that right, dear?’

Anna raised her eyebrows in disdain.

‘The coroner examined the body and concluded that the young man drowned. The body showed no signs of a struggle and there was nothing to suggest this was anything more than a tragic accident.’

‘But has he been officially identified and his family notified?’ asked Anna.

‘Everything is in order. You can forget all about it now and enjoy the rest of your holiday in peace. You have already been in contact with the embassy in Belgrade, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she lied, and swore to herself she would see to it immediately.

‘Good. Then there’s nothing else to say on the matter.’

‘Hang on a minute, there are still plenty of unanswered questions. For instance, why the young man was by the riverbank in the first place. And how the little girl is involved in all this.’

‘There are some details we will never be able to establish, but I doubt they are particularly salient. What’s most important is that
the coroner has done his job and we can breathe a sigh of relief. Of course, the loss of your passport is unfortunate, but replacing it won’t be all that much trouble.’

‘I want to see the coroner’s report.’

‘In that case you’ll have to speak to the chief of police. I don’t have that kind of authority at the station any longer. I just loiter around there making a nuisance of myself.’

‘I’ll make sure I speak to him. Mark my words.’

‘Anna!’ her mother shouted. ‘Stop it. Stop it this minute! Why do you have to be so stubborn? Can’t you simply let the matter drop? Good God, I don’t understand you in the slightest. You’re like a terrier that bites and bites at people’s ankles and refuses to be told. I … I’m ashamed of you, Anna!’

Anna’s mother turned and stormed out of the kitchen. The front door slammed behind her. Gábor stared awkwardly at his coffee cup. Anna didn’t know what to say. It was possible that she was more ashamed of her mother than her mother was of her.

‘Is there any coffee left?’ Gábor broke the silence.

Anna jumped up, fetched the
dzsezva
and poured the man another cup of black, bitter coffee.

‘I understand you both,’ Gábor began. ‘I know exactly what it feels like for you – I’m a policeman too, after all. And your mother has experienced a lot – she’s lost so much. You have to appreciate that she’s only worried, that she loves you and doesn’t want anything to happen to you.’

‘I know,’ said Anna quietly.

‘I was the one to break the news of your father’s death to her. I’ll never forget that moment,’ said Gábor, and Anna saw that his eyes were teary. ‘It was terrible, absolutely horrific. Your mother simply fell to pieces. And just when it seemed that she’d finally got back on her feet again the war broke out and Áron…’

‘I know,’ Anna repeated. ‘I do understand.’

‘But I agree, it would be a good idea for you to read the coroner’s report. I can put a word in with the chief of police and suggest he
gives you permission to see it. Perhaps it will give you some kind of closure. Shall we do that?’

‘Yes, please. Thank you.’

‘No trouble at all. Talk to your mother. She only wants the best for you.’

‘I know,’ Anna said for a third time, feeling like a little girl.

Once Gábor had left, Anna sat by herself in the kitchen for a long time. She listened to the faint sounds of the house, the distant ticking of a clock, the hum of the fridge. Maybe it was best to draw a line under this once and for all, she thought. Once I’ve read the coroner’s report, I’ll call it a day. I’m only spoiling my holiday and wasting any chance I have to spend time with my mother, or Ákos, or Réka and my other friends. Here I’m not Detective Inspector Anna. Here I’m just Anna. And that Anna really needs a holiday.