are a source of fear… of you. That is why anything less than you have now would not be understood. That’s politics and the battle for popularity. Morality and redemptions don’t count when it comes to power and politics. The only thing that matters is the approval of the oafish, bloodthirsty majority.”
Rebecca’s tone had shifted dramatically. She had straightened her back, but her face had become rock-solid and serious.
“So, you mean to say that I’m where I am because people would lynch the internal ministry if a prisoner such as I would be utilized, treated with understanding and provided a chance to change?”
“I’m saying you should not expect anything else from this world.”
“Even you?” I wondered.
“Concentrate on yourself, Albert! People won’t give a damn about you helping with this case, the next one or another one after. They will still want you behind bars. The question is: can you make a change within yourself? Can you yourself make peace with your past and accept the consequences it has brought to your present? That’s the only thing that should matter to you now!” Rebecca’s voice had become irritated, aggressive even.
“Call me stubborn, but the hope of getting both is what drives me forward. And boredom. Prisons are extremely boring.”
“You’re naïve and stupid,” she sighed.
“We’ll see,” I answered, smiling.
For the next four days I was left completely in the dark regarding the case. Not once did Rebecca contact me, or left a message about the developments. I could only assume she was on to something and was working hard on the crime. At one point I began to wonder whether she had solved it and not bothered to give me a heads-up. After all, there was enough evidence out there for her to solve the case. That I did not doubt for a second. My wonderings, though, were not accurate, for she did return with more information and a look that signalled irritation.
“We thought, we had got the killer,” she began. “But then she managed to prove her alibi.”
“Her?” I asked.
“Let me explain. We got inside the flat you told us to look into and we found stuff that would surely earn someone a lot of years in prison. It basically was a storage room for drugs. And not just weed. Most of the product was gone, but our team did manage to find traces of ecstasy and mushrooms. After that we went to the owners of the whole complex. They said they didn’t know anything about it and the flat had not been shown to people for quite a while because it had problems with electricity. They claim that the fuses kept popping out, but they did not have time to check the cause as there are many other free flats, and they are not that good with money. But guess who was the last person to see it? The teacher, who lives right next to it! She had mysteriously lost its keys for two days after she looked at it, while she, presumably, made a duplicate. We even found cat fur in it! So we arrested her on suspicion of distributing drugs, hoping to get a confession of murder out of her as well. All in vain because she was chatting with her parents on skype at the time of the murder. The parents confirmed that. We did not have enough evidence to hold her on the drug business. But it must be her! I sensed it because she showed no fright when we arrested her and allowed herself to be cynical during interrogation. She’s just too confident about our lack of proof. I know it! Now, how do we prove it?!”
“Hold on a second. Let me see the other testimonies I asked you for.”
“What for?!” She asked.
“So we can prove who is part of the drug scheme, who killed Amanda, and how both of these things intertwine, of course.”
TESTIMONY OF SAMANTHA S.
Q: You are Samantha S, a neighbour of the deceased, working as an English teacher, is that correct?
S: Yes
Q: Since the last time we spoke, the police has examined the evidence of the empty apartment next to yours and found that it was used as a storage unit by drug dealers. Were you aware of what the space was used for?
S: No
Q: Are you certain, miss? Helping a criminal investigation can mean a lot in court…
S: Yes, I know.
Q: All right, I will be completely straight with you. We found your cat’s fur in the apartment, we know you checked it out before buying the one next to it, and we know you mysteriously lost its keys.
S: Then what do you need me here for? It seems you have everything figured out. Yes, I had dropped the keys on the stairs and that Amanda woman, the victim, found them, but didn’t know to whom they belonged. So? Ah! But the evidence can’t prove it has anything to do with me, right? I’ve got an alibi, and there is nothing that would indicate that I have ever touched an illegal substance inside the flat. You know, why there’s nothing more that links the place to me? Because there fucking isn’t anything more that links that damned place to me! Have you considered that, morons?!
Q: I will have to ask you to tone down your language a bit, ma’am.
S: Why? You insult me with these accusations, claim that I am guilty despite evidence, and then tell me what to do?! Is there anything I can help out with? Anything that could help you to catch the actual killer? If not, I am ready to leave.
Q: There is one question you could answer, as odd, as it might sound… Does your cat often leave your apartment, to wander around the hallway?
S: Yes, he has somehow managed to slip out while I enter. A few times I have noticed his absence only a couple of hours later. Usually I find him sitting on the stairs. Not regularly, but Polo occasionally does get a little more adventurous. Usually, however, he likes to stay in familiar territories. How is this helping the investigation?
Q: I cannot reveal that. Thank you for your time. We will surely contact you again, so do not leave the city.
“See?” Rebecca had been observing me as I finished reading teacher’s testimony. “Just as I said – she knows we can’t prove her guilt, so she got cocky.”
“Hmm…”
“What?!”
“Show me the parts where I asked you to inquire about certain things from other floor inhabitants.”
“Sure. None of them were able to give anything concrete on the suspicious apartment, nobody’s seen or heard anything. The other interviews did not happen officially, or formally for that matter, because the police report, which asked about what they think of the cat and who, the victim or her husband, was the tidy one in the family, would look ridiculous.”
“Whatever. I do need the answers, though. Why would I care how you acquire them?” I grew impatient.
She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and took out a tiny notebook from her handbag. She was using a ‘Snickers’ wrapper as a bookmark.
“So…” she began, “All of them agree that the husband was extremely neat and loved order. Yet, he doesn’t like cats. Ralf claimed that he hadn’t seen it and generally don’t like pets, but Alice thought the cat was lovely.”
“What about the victim?” I asked.
“She was allergic to them, according to the husband. The sister confirmed that as well.”
“Fantastic! It turns out cats can be real pests with all their fur. Rebecca, you have done a remarkable job!”
“Have I?” She seemed puzzled.
“Yes, you provided me with a time-waster, a very good one in fact, and helped me to solve a crime. Count that as part of my redemption process if you like.” I could barely contain my smirk of satisfaction.
“What?! You mean to say you have solved it? How?!” She was so surprised that upon hearing my compliments she dropped her bag on the floor, with its contents rolling across the floor. I helped her fix the carnage.
“Everything I say can’t be proven since the murderer has been good with hiding evidence. Perhaps, if I had a chance to inspect the place myself, I would have something more substantial. Yet, I see no other way how all of this can make logical sense. It will be your job to put pressure on the suspects so that they break. I know you are up for this task. I will provide you with all the inform…”
“Just tell
me what you know already!” She interrupted me.
“Let me enjoy the moment while it lasts,” I teased her. “Remember how many VIP clients the victim had on her phone records? And how often she left the apartment daily? The number of times matched perfectly with the number of VIP clients, and so did the call times and the times she left. What if they were the people who distribute the drugs in the streets? Her business was going down, and she needed extra income to cover it. Surely, you remember the offshore investment she got to save her business from bankruptcy a year ago that was in her file? It must have come from her business associates. I believe the husband and the teacher were the only fourth floor residents not aware of the scheme. How the other three came up with it is still somewhat mysterious, but I believe the lost key to the empty apartment was the starting point. Locksmith Ralf made a duplicate and suddenly they have a free space for their own. I bet he was also the one who created the electricity issues in there so others would not be sent in to look at the apartment. Or perhaps they paid the complex owners off – these details are for you to find out, Rebecca. Alice, the wife, works in travel, so has plenty of excuses to travel around, and I doubt anyone really checks people like her for drug smuggling as she takes tourists around the world. The perfect cover. That would also explain the cat fur, without the involvement of the teacher. Alice liked that cat and probably liked to pet it as Polo wandered on the