Living Among Wasps, Page 3

when responsibility was brought up.

  Q: You keep referring to him as a drunkard? Was he a heavy drinker?

  N: Hahaha. He always reeked of cheap liquor. Surely, you all have seen his floating grey eyes, red round face, long thin beard and uncombed hair. What, did you think this is his style? [Giggles] No, he is simply not bothering himself with a razor and a shower. He just wouldn’t care… But it is not his looks that causes the rest of our family to frown. But the fact that he was obviously cheating on Amanda. What else would he be doing the nights he spent away from home? Just the thought of his slimy gait makes me want to vomit.

  Q: Was he drunk when you met him the night your sister was killed?

  N: He didn’t smell like he usually does when he drinks, so I suppose no. Though, we didn’t chat because I can’t stand him and he can’t stand me. I gave him the bag and left.

  Q: If the husband is such a man as you describe him, why did your sister stay?

  N: Because the naïve fool loved him, and hoped that someday he would finally change. For example, if they would accidentally get pregnant or something. She actually tried to trick him into that, but it never resulted in a success. I am glad about it though! Imagine that man as father to an actual child? He would probably run off and my sister would have to raise it by herself! It’s just absurd!

  Q: All right, tell us about your sister. Had she any more conflicts, disagreements, worries etc. lately?

  N: Not really. She didn’t communicate with her colleagues much and she didn’t have a lot of friends to hang out with. It was mostly just me, partially because she was so stressed out by her husband and his deeds. She liked music and hockey, yet nothing else could really spark her interest for more than a couple of hours - some evenings I took her out to games, but then she went home and the cycle started all over again. To be honest, this didn’t make a lot of sense to me and she couldn’t really explain it either. So, with time I just accepted it as the reality. Now, though, I doubt that I should’ve.

  Everyone has their good and bad days, just like everyone has people they don’t like very much. The fact that the husband described the marriage as picture-perfect and his wife as faultlessly happy usually indicates the lack of interest in what his significant other is going through. He claimed that they hadn’t had a fight in ages, but it probably had more to do with the wife being tired of fighting, not harmony. But at the same time, he did not leave an impression as the murderer of his wife because he kept referring to her in present tense, which usually means that he had not yet coped with the fact. Besides, according to the sister, he wasn’t drinking, so the killing could not have happened under the influence. Nor could the murder have happened days earlier, for then the sister would not have been able to talk to her that evening on the phone. After this encounter the police had once again interviewed the husband to ask him about his drinking habits and the affair. While he admitted that he often ended up drinking a few too many with his friends, he insisted he is not involved in an affair – he just chose to sleep over at one of his friend’s houses so that he would not have to face the anger of his deceased wife. The husband did not provide any further comments, but a friend of his confirmed this statement.

  The rest of the accounts, which were given by the neighbours, initially seemed merely as paper waste. A couple of them said that they knew the two, but not very well. An elderly woman, Sandra L., claimed that she did not like them because they caused a racket in the staircase. She also noted that once the husband had not held the door for her, when she had decided to go for a stroll. Another couple, Ralf and Alice, living in an apartment right next to the victim’s, claimed that they knew the woman well, had friendly chats and generally liked their neighbours. The man, a locksmith, with a round, bold head that closely resembled an egg, pointed out that he knew about some of the troubles the neighbours had since he and Amanda often went to their jobs at the same time, and liked to smoke on their way to their cars. Meanwhile Amanda would often rant about her marriage. Alice, as a travelling guide, was not home, often for extended periods of time, therefore she was not aware of the victim’s problems. Instead, the victim would just wave the topic off and ask about Alice’s travels instead. Once in a while Alice brought a little souvenir for the neighbours if they expressed a desire for something. Yet, it did seem that there were more people who did not like the victim than those who did. A twenty-four year old English teacher, Samantha S., who was living on the same floor, right across from the victim’s apartment, expressed her dislike for the victim and the husband. A month ago she had asked the victim to check on her cat when she had to leave home for a couple of days. Yet, when she returned, she found out that the litter box wasn’t cleaned at all and the food bowls were licked empty. The poor creature had not been fed since she had left. The cat is alive, but since then both parties haven’t spoken to one another. The alibis of the neighbours were practically identical. Either they were watching TV, or sitting at their computer. None of them had noticed anything extraordinary, and they realized something was up only when the ambulance and police arrived.

  None of the suspects had ‘killer’ written on their foreheads. I tossed the testimonies aside and looked through the dossiers of other residents. This case was a genuine puzzle, and I can proudly say that I enjoyed sniffing through it. The rest of the residents were just as ordinary: An aspiring entrepreneur with a housewife and two children; an IT expert who had just gone through a divorce; another pensioner with wealthy offspring… Lastly, there was a family with the wife working as an accountant in a bank, the husband working in construction, their kid studying law. In other words - absolutely nothing to grab on to. However, what did strike me as odd was the last empty apartment on the fourth floor. According to official papers, it has never been occupied. Yet, from the pictures Rebecca had taken, I could tell that the door was being regularly opened. Even though it was barely visible in the pictures, it was clear that paint had been chipped off of the door frame because the door had been repeatedly slammed shut, without pressing the door handle. I made a note to myself that Rebecca should thoroughly inspect the suspicious apartment. There was no other material on it, so that definitely was something the police had missed.

  It was late in the evening when I heard a rattle behind my steel door.

  “Finally!” I exclaimed.

  The guard insisted that he would stay in my cell until I’m done, which was amusing since all he ended up doing was leaning on the opposite side of the wall in absolute misery. For four and a half hours. I did not bother myself with offering him a seat, and stretched my legs across my bed. I bet he did have a thing or two to say to his colleagues and commanding officers after the experience.

  During these hours, I skimmed through the video footage of the day of the murder, and the days before and after it. I started with the ‘day before’ footage to see how many people walked in and out of the building, and marked my observations on a sheet of paper. The approach was flawed because often the camera did not catch the faces. So, I tried to distinguish them by their clothing, gait and posture. I’ll admit that these observations were not completely flawless either, for the people could easily change their clothes or have similar walking style. Besides, occasionally the residents would run to the door, covering their heads, or frantically waving their arms. The victim, the husband and the elderly were the only people I could clearly recognize. Therefore, my estimates about the precise identities remained rough. I managed, however, to count the precise number of human bodies that entered and exited the building in these three days. But even that, in the course of the time, tallied to minus one. Yet, the efforts were not completely in vain, for a number of other interesting aspects of the plot were filmed by the security camera. Firstly, the husband returned only an hour before the wife was killed (there was no sign of him on the day before), but the wife herself had entered and exited the building at least six times that day before her death. Just before I handed the laptop back to the guard, who look
ed extremely tired, I remembered to closely inspect the minutes of murder as seen on the camera. And I’m glad I did, because it turned out that the husband’s testimony was not utterly accurate. Yes, he goes out, wanders around a little, and comes back in with bags in his hands. But, as he was let inside the building, he did not react in any way to the supposed voice of his wife in the speaker. A voice that would probably have been full of desperate fear as the perpetrator must have already been inside the flat. No, there was silence on the microphone because the wife had already been stabbed.

  Rebecca had provided me with an excellent time-waster. She herself is a brilliant investigator. Despite her fragile, feminine appearance, dark hair, lovely green eyes and passion for clothing accessories, she also possesses the mind of a mathematician that is supported by the notorious female intuition – a deadly combination if driven by dire exigency. The only reason she needs to turn to someone like me is because she lacks the willpower to work on her talents. Instead she’d rather spend the evenings in town with her friends, enjoying her fading youth in wildness,