The Quiet Mother

7

During the call, Konrád had watched a young woman walk towards the block of flats and disappear into the lobby. Soon afterwards, a light came on in the flat on the first floor whose door he had knocked on without result. He got out of his car and rang that flat’s bell. After a moment, the door phone crackled and a woman’s voice said hello. Konrád introduced himself and asked if the woman had time to speak to him about the incident there in the building; he’d known the dead woman. There was silence on the door phone, and Konrád was about to ask again when another crackle was heard and the front door opened.

When he reached the landing, he saw that the woman had opened her door slightly and was watching him nervously.

‘I don’t know what I can do for you,’ she said, and Konrád sensed the same mistrust from her as from the mother with the baby. It was understandable. A terrible thing had happened there in that building, filling the general population with both disgust and fear. Not only was the act horrific and merciless, but the perpetrator was still at large and it wasn’t known who he was or what he might be up to.

Konrád tried to calm the woman and say all the right words. He had considerable experience in doing so, having worked as a police officer for decades, and it wasn’t long before she invited him in and they sat down in the kitchen. The woman said she’d lived in the building for only a year or so, and she liked it very much. She lived alone, worked at a shop nearby and had been rather distracted the night Valborg was attacked. Her sister had been in a car accident and she’d been with her at the hospital for twenty-four hours, but then come home and paced her flat while waiting for news of her. She’d tried to take a nap to make up for her lack of sleep, but had done nothing apart from stare at the ceiling, and just when the hospital called, she heard some noise from the flat above but paid little notice until afterwards.

‘I told the police officers who came here and questioned the neighbours that I hadn’t noticed anything because I was on the phone.’

‘I hope you didn’t get bad news,’ said Konrád.

‘It’s not... not really possible to answer that yet,’ the woman said. ‘She was buying me a birthday present. My sister. It’s my birthday tomorrow and a car hit hers from the side...’

She stopped.

‘Was it a coincidence that Valborg was attacked?’ she then asked, and it was clear from her appearance that she’d been under great strain over the last few days. She spoke wearily and had rings under her eyes. Konrád thought it best not to trouble her any more than he thought necessary, and half regretted being a nuisance.

‘Most likely,’ he said, ‘but it’s impossible to confirm anything under the present circumstances. The police are a bit perplexed by it. Did Valborg ever say anything to you about her friends or relatives? Did you ever notice anyone visiting her?’

‘No, I don’t think she ever had any visitors.’

‘And you haven’t noticed any unusual people here around this building? Anyone in the back garden? Anyone on the street who stood out?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ said the woman. ‘How did you say you knew Valborg again?’

‘She came to me with a particular problem,’ answered Konrád, unsure if he should tell the whole truth. ‘I could have done more for her.’

‘What was it?’

‘It was personal,’ said Konrád. ‘I don’t know if she would have wanted me to talk about a private matter.’

‘No, I understand,’ said the woman. ‘She was always so friendly, ever since I moved into the building, and I never heard of her having any difficulties or struggling with any problems. We’re always so silent about what’s wrong in our lives, instead of talking about it. We hope no one finds out about it and that it just goes away one day.’

‘So she didn’t tell you about her illness, then?’ Konrád asked.

‘No — was she ill?’

‘She didn’t have long to live, apparently. You weren’t told about it?’

‘No, not at all. I didn’t know that. Poor woman. And then this.’

‘Yes. She had cancer. Endured it quite well but knew that her time was limited and wanted to settle certain issues.’

‘Is that why she contacted you?’

‘Yes.’

‘If only I’d known. I might have been able to help lighten her burden.’

‘I’m sure she would have come to you if she’d needed any help.’

Shortly afterwards, Konrád thanked her and got up to leave. He said he hoped he hadn’t bothered her too much and walked towards the door, looking at the same time into her living room, at the sofa and flat-screen TV and the few pictures on the walls. He noticed a handsome pair of binoculars on a table by the living-room window and she saw that his curiosity was piqued.

‘I’m not spying on anything,’ she said, going and picking up the binoculars. ‘I’m trying to see if anyone is watching me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Maybe I’m being overly sensitive, but two or three times, I’ve seen a gleam from one of the buildings over there, as if from a mirror or binoculars or something like that, but I haven’t been able to see exactly where it’s coming from.’

‘From a building over there?’ Konrád pointed to where three five-storey blocks of flats were lined up side by side.

‘I feel like it could be the one in the middle,’ said the woman, ‘but it’s like they’re kind of on top of each other, so I’m not entirely sure.’

Marta answered breathlessly after several rings.

‘Did you notice the curtains in Valborg’s living room?’ Konrád asked as he sat back down in his car.

‘What about them?’ Marta panted into the phone.

‘Am I disturbing you? What are you doing? Is there someone with you?’

‘Ehh... jogging.’

‘When did you start jogging?’

‘What’s with the questions? What do you want?’

‘Were the curtains open?’ Konrád asked.

‘Open? Yes, the curtains of all the windows were open.’

‘I think someone witnessed the murder from the outside,’ said Konrád, ‘and called immediately. And I think I know why he doesn’t want to talk to the police.’

‘Who?’

‘A man with binoculars.’

‘A man with binoculars? And why doesn’t he want to talk to us?’

‘It’s very simple. He’s a peeping Tom.’