The Exiled (12 page)

THE FIRST BUS FROM SZABADKA
arrived in Kanizsa at 6.35 a.m. Anna had gone through the timetables and noted, to her astonishment, that a total of eighteen buses ran between the two towns each weekday and only a slightly smaller number at weekends. Incredible. Granted, Szabadka was a sizeable town – it was even slightly larger than her hometown in Finland – but how many rural villages or towns in Finland were served by eighteen buses a day from the nearest city, with the possible exception of Helsinki? None at all. In the north of Finland at least, two or three buses a day was a handsome number. Points to Serbia, thought Anna. Some things here are still running well.

Anna went to the central bus station in good time to wait for the bus. She also wanted to see the people the locals claimed were making such a mess in the area. The refugees. The melancholy hoots of pigeons rang out in the fresh, early-morning air. Anna passed the Cultural Centre and saw the park in front of which the buses stopped. On the ground there were human-shaped sleeping bags and bundles of blankets, beneath which she could see only black hair and dark faces. A group of men sat around a small bonfire. Litter was strewn around her in every direction. A shocking amount of rubbish. Anna understood the locals’ annoyance but she also appreciated that these people probably didn’t have the strength to think about something as banal as picking up litter. Anna counted twenty-seven people in total. Most of them were young men, but there were a few women and children too. From somewhere nearby came the sound of a baby crying.

The bus pulled into the stop. The driver waited for the passengers
to get off, then hopped out and lit a cigarette. Anna hadn’t even greeted him before he was talking to her. In Hungarian. Thank God, thought Anna.

‘Don’t know what the world’s coming to – I can’t even smoke in my own bus these days,’ said the driver and winced at Anna. She interpreted this as a smile.

‘Yes, it’s too bad,’ she agreed and lit a cigarette herself.

‘Every shift is full of that lot,’ he said, nodding towards the park. ‘Doesn’t bother me much, mind. As long as there are paying customers, I’ve still got a job to go to. I have to say, mind, I’ve taken a few of them for free. Some of them haven’t got two pennies to rub together, though folk round here seem to think otherwise.’

‘Have a look at this,’ said Anna and showed the driver the bus ticket.

‘What about it? It’s one of our tickets.’

‘Were you working last Friday by any chance? The day this ticket was stamped?’

‘Yes, I was.’

Do you remember whether this young man got on in Szabadka?’ Anna asked and showed him the photograph she’d printed off the previous night.

The driver looked at her, nervously puffing on his cigarette. ‘You with the police?’

‘No. Well, yes. But don’t worry. I’m only trying to find out who this man is and where he’s been.’

‘What’s happened? Been up to no good, has he?’

‘He stole my handbag. And my passport and Visa card. Do you remember him?’

The driver looked again at the photograph, this time more closely. ‘I don’t usually pay much attention to the passengers. There’s too many, you see. Folk come and go, that’s about it.’

‘He might have been travelling with a child – a girl, maybe ten, twelve years old, in a red skirt.’

‘Ah, yes, you get to know the regulars; you recognise them when
they get on. I might have seen the boy, I’m pretty sure about it. Not last Friday though, but before.’

Anna felt her heart rate increasing. ‘Really? When was that?’

‘Quite a few times. He gets on in Szabadka and comes to Kanizsa, and always travels back the same evening.’

‘Have you ever talked to him? Do you know his name?’

‘He never talks much, just sits on the back seat and stares at his phone. They all do that these days, even the old biddies.’

A phone, thought Anna. The police must surely have it now. How could she gain access to it?

‘But you say he wasn’t on the bus last Friday?’

‘Not on my shift, he wasn’t. There’s other drivers on this route too. I was on the graveyard shift that night.’

‘Who was working that morning?’

‘Can’t remember. There’s quite a gap between shifts, so you don’t always see the previous driver. Just pick up the keys and money bag from the station and off you go.’

‘Could you find out who it was for me?’

‘Sure, no problem.’

‘And what about this girl?’ Anna showed him another photograph. ‘I know it’s a bit blurry.’

‘I can’t make anything out here. But I remember the boy sometimes travelled with a little girl. Not always. Gypsies, both of them.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘About what? That they travel together?’

‘That they’re Romanies.’

‘Positive. You can tell just by looking at them. I’ve nothing against them, mind. They pay their way like everybody else.’

Anna gave the man her phone number, thanked him and asked him to get back to her as soon as possible. The driver promised he would.

Three irate-looking women had appeared in the park with rakes and plastic bin liners. Further off, Anna noticed a group of young men. Two of them had shaved their heads, they were wearing
camouflage trousers and combat boots. The men were looking at the refugees lying around the park and muttering to one another. Eventually they started walking towards the town hall. One of the skinheads turned and glanced behind him. He looked straight at Anna.

‘THE FINGERPRINTS YOU LIFTED
from your handbag belonged to you and two unknown people. There was no match in our records,’ said Péter. ‘Judging by the size of the prints, one set belonged to a child.’

The thief and the girl in the red skirt, thought Anna. She’d invited Péter for a coffee at the Avanti café on the main street through town, saying she couldn’t wait until the following evening. She knew this was a risk – people here didn’t expect women to be so proactive, so forward. But it was a risk she was willing to take. She didn’t have time to think about what was or wasn’t considered appropriate behaviour. Péter had agreed, and Anna thought she detected a note of excitement in his voice.

They were sitting on the covered patio outside the café on chairs upholstered with blue cushions. Despite the shade, the air was humid and clammy. Anna leaned as close as she possibly could towards Péter. She was smiling so much her cheek muscles began to ache. They talked about this and that for a while before Anna plucked up the courage to ask about the fingerprints. She suddenly sensed a mild agitation in Péter’s body language. Didn’t he want to be seen with her? The last time they’d met, he’d taken her all the way to Horgos. And today a couple of passers-by had stopped to say hello to him and shake his hand – an older gentleman in a stylish suit and a younger, scruffier man with stubble. Péter didn’t introduce Anna to them, though the older man in particular seemed to expect him to do so.

‘What about the security cameras?’ asked Anna. ‘Are there any in town?’

She realised she sounded too eager, too demanding. Péter remained silent for a moment. He lit a cigarette and ordered a small bottle of mineral water.

‘I think you should drop the matter,’ he said eventually.

‘So do I, but for the time being I’m not going to do that.’

‘You’re stubborn.’

‘Maybe. But I’m nice with it.’

With a teasing smile Anna placed her hand on Péter’s. He slowly lifted it away.

‘What is it you want from me exactly?’ he almost snapped.

‘Sorry,’ said Anna. She pulled her chair further away from him and sipped her coffee. What on earth had she been thinking? Did she really think she could pull the wool over the eyes of an experienced police officer by playing the ditzy bimbo? Sometimes she felt so stupid.

‘Very well,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘I’m going to be completely honest with you. I get the distinct impression your colleagues aren’t investigating the death of the bag thief the way they should, and I think there’s something untoward going on. I really hope you can help me out.’

‘And why would I do that?’

‘I don’t know. Out of a sheer, altruistic desire to help me?’

Péter laughed. ‘Are you still coming to my place tomorrow evening?’

‘Are there cameras around the town or not?’

‘A few.’

‘Where?’

‘In front of the town hall and by the school. It’s a nasty intersection and we get plenty of fender-benders there.’

‘Is there any way I could see those tapes?’

‘It won’t be easy. But I can try.’

‘So I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said, stroked the rough stubble on Péter’s cheek and stood up.

Who is using whom here? And why, she wondered.

THE
SZÁRMA
WAS DELICIOUS.
The cabbage leaves stuffed with minced meat and poached in a paprika broth really did improve after a few days. Nóra had come home for lunch. Tibor was at work, Gizella at nursery. Anna wondered whether or not to tell Nóra about the fabricated autopsy report but decided to keep it to herself. The fewer people knew she was digging around the case, the better. What’s more, she didn’t want to put her friends in any kind of danger. And she did suspect that things might get hairy. Why would the police try to hide the thief ’s real cause of death unless there was something about the case that had to be kept quiet? Anna thought of her mother’s words: mafia, politics, big money. What on earth had the young Roma man got himself mixed up with?

‘This is so delicious,’ Anna said.

Nóra smiled, chuffed at the compliment. ‘It’s Tibor’s favourite. And Gizella likes it too.’

‘By the way, do you know the woman that runs the Roma activity centre round here?’

‘You mean Judit? I know of her, but I don’t know her personally. Why do you ask?’

‘Just wondered. I went to her place and had my fortune told yesterday.’

Nóra burst into laughter. ‘Really? I’ve heard she’s not all that accurate. Did she predict anything for you?’

‘Not really, nothing you couldn’t have predicted without supernatural powers.’

‘I feel a bit sorry for her, having to make a living like that.’

‘I don’t think she has many options.’

‘Hmm, if only they’d get themselves a proper education, things might be different. I’m not racist or anything, but sometimes I do think they’re quite lazy.’

Anna didn’t comment; she didn’t want to get into an argument with Nóra.

‘Are there any skinheads in town? I think I saw a few this morning,’ she said, trying to change the subject.

‘I’m not sure they’re real skinheads. They’re just kids. I imagine those refugees have made a few people shave their hair in the last few weeks. Some people are furious about it. You should see the things Újvári Erzsébet writes on Facebook. You wouldn’t think such a nice lady could come out with horrible things like that.’

‘The far right is raising its head all over the place.’

‘I know. It’s worrying. Even Tibor has started to change. He’s … he’s a bit too interested in Hungarian nationalism for my liking. He just sits at the Taverna with his mates every evening talking the same old shit.’

‘What shit?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Well, they complain about the Jews, the gypsies – and now the refugees, of course. They blame them for everything that’s wrong. They’re proud of their nationalist opinions. But it’s all just talk. In a way I can understand it, though I don’t like it one bit. We Hungarians are a minority here, so talk like that gives them a sense of power. Still, it’s just bitterness. Powerlessness, bitterness, small-mindedness. Do you want some coffee for dessert?’

‘No thanks. You probably have to get back to work.’

‘I do, actually. Are you coming to the wine tasting on Saturday?’

‘Yes, I think I will. I can ask Tibor more about his interesting opinions.’

‘Please don’t,’ Nóra exclaimed. ‘I can’t bear listening to it.’

‘One more question. Do you know Vajda Péter?’

‘No. Who’s he?’

‘A policeman. I thought I’d ask him to join me on Saturday.’

‘You know Béci’s going to be there?’

‘Exactly,’ said Anna.

AS AGREED WITH THE MYSTERY CALLER,
Anna sat down on a specific bench at the edge of the park. Children’s screams carried across from the nearby playground, but otherwise the park was quiet. Anna was surprised that there were so few people around, though the leafy boughs of the trees formed a green canopy, protecting people from the merciless sun. Despite the shade, Anna felt uncomfortable. She was nervous. The bench was situated between two overgrown bushes, and you couldn’t really see into the rest of the park. The perfect spot for a clandestine meeting. Or a crime. Anna looked around but there was nobody in sight. She heard the fluty song of a blackbird in the bushes.

She was just about to send Réka a message, telling her where she was and saying if she hadn’t rung in the next thirty minutes to call the police, when she heard someone cough right next to her. The man had appeared out of nowhere and sat down next to her on the bench. Dark skin, short, dark hair, about twenty-five years old, a golden stud in his right earlobe. A Romani. Anna committed the man’s appearance to memory as best she could.

‘Put the phone away,’ said the man, and Anna recognised the voice as the man who had called her in the night. She slipped the phone into her bag.

‘Did you bring the cash?’ he asked and lit a cigarette.

Anna nodded.

‘So what are you waiting for? Let’s get this over with.’

She handed over the banknotes, and the man quickly stuffed them in his pocket. Their eyes met for a moment, and Anna noticed the man was every bit as nervous as she was. This had an instant calming effect on her.

‘Go to the Kanizsa cemetery tonight. To the chapel,’ said the man and stood up, all the while glancing agitatedly around him.

‘Why?’ asked Anna.

The man took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘There’s a body you’re supposed to see.’

‘How did you get this information?’

‘I don’t know nothing about nothing, I’m just the messenger. Go there at three in the morning. The door will be open.’

‘Who told you this? Judit?’

But Anna didn’t get an answer. The man was gone as quickly as he had appeared. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. The sounds of the playground had stopped and the blackbird had fallen silent. Anna stood up and ran past the bushes and along the pathway cutting through the park. She scanned the park to find the messenger, to follow him, but he was gone without a trace. Only a solitary old lady, supported by her walking frame, was shuffling through the park towards the spa behind the trees.