Joseph Kanon - The Prodigal Spy

“I don’t know. There’s some kind of mistake. The man we met last night, at the concert-I found him this morning, dead. They didn’t tell you?”

“Dead?” she said, stunned, not taking in the rest of it. Her face softened. “Oh, Nick.”

“Mr Warren was with you this morning?” Zimmerman said.

Molly nodded.

“What time did he leave?”

Molly looked to Nick for help. “I don’t know. I was asleep.”

“The maid said very early,” Zimmerman said. “You don’t know exactly when?”

“I didn’t want to wake her,” Nick interrupted. Then, to Molly, “I went to get the tickets. For the train this afternoon. You know. I didn’t want to wait till the last minute.”

“Evidently,” Zimmerman said dryly, still watching Molly, who simply stared, following a game. “And yet you waited there,” he said to Nick. So they’d already checked.

“I had a coffee. It was too early to go to his place.”

“So much coffee,” Zimmerman said. “You have business in Vienna?” he said to Molly. But she seemed not to have heard him.

“Dead?” she said to Nick. “He was dead? How?”

“That is what we’re trying to determine, Miss Chisholm. A fall from the balcony. An accident, perhaps,” Zimmerman said blandly. “But Mr Warren’s presence there naturally raises some questions for us. You understand. You have business in Vienna?” he said again.

Molly looked at him, unsure, then gave a nod, faint enough to be retrieved. He took up her passport, thumbing through it.

“You’ve been to Prague before. May I ask what brings you back?”

“I wanted to show Nick.”

“Not on business then, this time? You did not apply for a journalist’s visa, I see.”

“No. It was a personal trip.”

“To see Prague,” Zimmerman said. “Again.” He put down the passports. “So you cannot tell me when Mr Warren left this morning.”

“Sometime after six. He was still in bed then. I saw the clock.” Had she?

“He left around six?”

“Later. I don’t know when exactly. I fell back to sleep. Why?”

“It’s useful to know these things. Chief Novotny will want it for his report.” Novotny looked up at his name. “Or perhaps not. Perhaps he has his own idea. Don’t be alarmed, Miss Chisholm. If you were under suspicion, we would have questioned you separately, before you could talk to Mr Warren here. That’s the usual procedure. Of course, Chief Novotny may not know that. He is new.” Zimmerman sighed. “But it’s useful, these details. For instance, you have not yet packed for your trip?” The disheveled room, noticed.

“Molly leaves everything to the last minute,” Nick said.

Zimmerman looked at him. “Now she will have more time.”

“But she has to leave today,” Nick said evenly, facing her.

“I think Chief Novotny would prefer her to stay,” Zimmerman said easily, “until we finish. Don’t worry, the tickets will still be good. Unless, of course, your car is fixed in time.”

Molly raised her eyebrows, finally thrown, but before Nick could say anything there was a knock and another policeman handed Novotny a folder. He pulled out a report sheet and grunted as he read, only handing it to Zimmerman when he had finished. Zimmerman went through it quickly, nodding and speaking to Novotny as he read. A small explosion of Czech back, then more talk, not quite an argument, Novotny bristling, clearly irritated by an inconvenience. Nick watched them, then looked over at Molly and saw that she was frightened. When he placed his hand on hers, it was cool to the touch.

“There was no blood in the flat,” Zimmerman said, not a question. “Tell me again about the blood.” He nodded to Nick’s pants.

“When I was checking. To see if he was alive.”

“Is that why you went back to the flat? To wash it off?”

Nick looked at him. “I didn’t go back. I’d never been there. I found him and then I went in to call you.”

“But not right away. First you went through his desk.” He glanced down again at the report. “Pani Havlicek-that’s the neighbor-said she saw you holding his head.” Molly took her hand away as if the blood were there, drawing her in. But her eyes were soft, upset now, the death real, not a story. “Is that usually the way you check a pulse?”

Someone watching, even then. “I don’t know. I didn’t know what I was doing. You know, I didn’t expect-”

“What, Mr Warren?”

“To see a body there.”

“Pani Havlicek didn’t expect to see you there either. She said you stayed for some time. Holding him.” He glanced over at Novotny, who, bored, was now stretching his tight collar and looking out the window. “Of course, it might have seemed long to her. It’s often the case. She also said she heard noises in the apartment. Just before dawn. Another light sleeper.” He glanced at Molly. “A little commotion. Of course, it may have seemed louder to her than it was. It’s possible, at that hour.” He was walking around the table, talking to himself. “A noise when you don’t expect it. Pan Kotlar himself, perhaps. There was alcohol in his blood. If he was unsteady- It’s difficult to be precise about these things.”

Nick looked up at him. “What time is dawn?”

Zimmerman paused, a sliding look toward Novorny. “Before six,” he said to Nick. “There were pills,” he continued, walking again. “For illness. No marks on the balcony. Of course, these may have been missed, if no one was looking for them.”

“They were there.”

“So you said. What caused them, do you think?”

“I don’t know. A belt buckle, buttons-something metal.”

“And what could that mean?” Zimmerman said, almost playing.

“That someone scraped against it when he pushed him over,” Nick said flatly.

For a minute no one said anything. Zimmerman looked down at the folder as if he were thinking it over, not just playing for effect. It was when Nick saw him glance at the window that he realized Zimmerman was just waiting to see if Novotny had understood.

“I see,” he said finally. “That is your idea?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, God,” Molly said quietly.

“I don’t know if Chief Novotny would agree with you. As I said, he has his own idea. And you know, sometimes the obvious solution is the right one. I’ve seen this many times.”

“He didn’t kill himself.”

“You’re sure? If I may say so, Mr Warren, the obvious solution would be more convenient for you.” Directly to Nick, almost an instruction. “An older man, sick, it’s a common thing. Even the method. It’s a disease with us Czechs, you know. I’m not sure why. All through our history. Defenestration. So many have chosen it.”

A courtyard in the Czernin Palace. What had Masaryk said?

“The housemaid’s way out,” Nick said.

Zimmerman’s eyes widened in appreciation. “I see you know our history.”

“He wouldn’t have taken it either.”

“You know that, after so little acquaintance?”

Nick lowered his head, quiet.

“No, Mr Warren, it would all be very simple. A sick man, a little drink. Our chief would sign the papers. Everybody goes home. Except, of course, for you. A foreigner. At the death scene. Now it’s not so simple.” He took one of the chairs and sat down, facing Nick. “What are you doing here, Mr Warren? Why did you come to Prague?”

Nick looked away. “To see it.”

“A tourist. Who drives in and takes the train out. Who meets a stranger, and the next morning he’s dead. Mr Warren, this is a charade. I’m not like our good chief. I like to know the truth. It’s a habit. So.”

Why not? Hadn’t he been telling Nick all along that he knew it was someone else? The wrong time. The blood. Then why press at all? Simple curiosity? Or a final trick question before he’d have to let him go? There was no one to trust here. Nick said nothing.