SOMEBODY KNEW TOO MUCH


Senior Detective Onderka eyed the faded photograph found on the suspect who had been shot dead. A young man wearing a Eurovision Song Contest T-shirt and had a jacket tied around his hips was squatting next to a sign that had some text in Samralese script and under it "DANGER KEEP AWAY" in English. He was looking up into the camera with a bright smile. About two meters behind him, the ground ended. One could faintly make out some buildings far beyond and below the edge.

A sign of the times long past, Onderka reflected. Today you won't see much English in Samral. Nor Western tourists.

He tore his eyes loose from the picture and skimmed the report on his desk one more time. In the vicinity of the house belonging to the recently murdered Anton Szar... failed to obey the order to stop... died on the way to hospital... about twenty years old, not yet identified...

When the Senior Detective raised his eyes, Detective Krukovski said: "The man in the photo is almost certainly Anton Szar. Taseva was able to identify the script as Samralese."

Onderka nodded.

"Sir, it's strange the unidentified man had the picture in his possession. This might have some significance in the Szar murder case."

"Do you think he had been sent to steal the photo from the house?"

Krukovski looked confused. "I don't know, sir."

When Onderka didn't say anything further, Krukovski ran a hand through his short brown hair and went on. "Until now we didn't even know Szar had ever visited Samral. It's hard to imagine that it could have happened under the current regime, so it must have been at least thirty years ago."

"That's about how old he looks in the photo."

"Precisely, sir. I think we still have a chance to find out whom Szar was traveling with."

Onderka didn't reply. Why steal the picture from the album? Blackmail?

"I meant to say, sir, that I was thinking..."

Onderka nodded. "Yes, go on."

"Well, the only thing this photo reveals is the fact that Anton Szar has been to Samral. But why would that have any relevance to his murder? Maybe because he was traveling with somebody? Maybe that's the person who shot the picture. And it's possible that that person doesn't want it to be known that he was acquainted with Szar. Maybe that's why somebody thought the photo was important."

Onderka took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice neutral. "Yes, that makes sense."

Krukovski smiled. "Sir, I propose I go to Szar's house right away with the team to see if we can find any other clues we might have overlooked earlier."

Onderka looked at his watch. He had only twenty minutes. Damned meeting! The Police Commissioner himself was coming. Not attending was unthinkable.

Well, couldn't be helped. And it was Krukovski's case anyway. He put the pen down and handed the photo and the report back to his subordinate. "Go ahead. And keep me informed."

"Yes, sir!"

Barely ten minutes later, the Senior Detective was awoken from his musings by a resolute knock on the door. It was opened before he had a chance to say "Enter." Bewildered Onderka jumped to attention and saluted when he recognized Commissioner Stroligo. The important guest was followed by Detective Krukovski and Junior Detective Taseva. Onderka almost smiled, but then checked himself. Was it his imagination or was she looking at him with sadness? Or even pity?

Stroligo nodded to Krukovski who spoke, staring intensely at Onderka:

"Sir, you suggested the suspicious man who was accidentally shot dead earlier today might have been sent by someone to steal the old photograph from the late Anton Szar's house. But why did you assume right away the photo had been in that house? Maybe he was bringing the picture into the house, possibly to substitute it for another? Maybe he was accidentally in the area with the photograph in his possession? Or maybe the photo was meant to be found on his person as a subtle message to someone? There are so many possibilities."

Krukovski was smart. Very smart. Onderka, his immediate superior, knew it better than anybody else.

Onderka felt his heart pounding. Standing up as he was, might he still have a chance to reach the drawer with his gun quickly enough? When would be the right moment to make a grab for it?

His eyes must have moved, because while he was still hesitating, Taseva leaped to his side of the desk.

"No, sir," she said softly.



(C) Olavi Jaggo
First published: 2021-11-11
This version: 2024-08-04




back to the list of stories