Read Online Lost and Found in Prague by Kelly Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kelly Jones
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this morning.”
Dal nodded, considering this new information. Someone who had been communicating with Zajic on a regular basis, passing away just before the senator himself, certainly warranted another look.
Dal opened a second file and withdrew a photo of a thin man, facedown, red seeping into the sparkling snow like a macabre version of a kid’s cherry ice treat. A man in shabby clothes lying dead at the foot of the statue of St. Wenceslas on Václavské námesti.
“You’re looking at the Filip Kula murder again?” Cerný grunted as he maneuvered himself back into his chair, straightening his back, planting his coffee mug on the table.
“You believe the two homicides are related?” Detective Sokol asked his superior. From the photo, comparing this man to the well-dressed, well-fed senator, it would seem unlikely the two men had anything in common or had met in social circles. Dal, who’d had no part in the Kula investigation, did not intend to officially reopen it, yet he doubted the person responsible for this earlier homicide had been put away. The fact that the lead detective had retired along with the prior chief, Tomáš Malý, concerned Dal. There had been a major shake-up in the department in the past few months.
The case of Filip Kula would not have made headlines—an addict out to score some drugs—had the victim not been a once-popular film star. His murder had dredged up history as well as headlines. Twenty years ago he’d been active as a dissenter during the Velvet Revolution, one of the popular voices of the movement. Within years, his health and fame declined, ravaged by an expensive drug habit. Many younger citizens of Prague, Kristof among them, had not initially recognized the name Filip Kula. Those who knew of the star would not have recognized the man. He’d once been the heartthrob of many a Czech girl, but he’d died a vagabond in frayed trousers and ripped overcoat. His identity had not been known for several days, as he carried no ID. No one was looking for him. His family had disowned him. The first reports assumed he was involved in either prostitution or drugs, since the area was frequented in the early morning by those seeking either. Days later, during a separate investigation, an ID had been found in the hotel room of a man well-known for being part of a petty theft ring, and it had been matched to the murder victim. Being Romany, the accused was considered expendable.
Dal had not seriously considered these two cases related except for the fact that they were far from the norm in Prague, if murder could in any way be considered normal. Prague was a relatively safe city. When a murder occurred it was generally domestic or gang related. And very few murders remained unsolved. Yet he continued to think of Josef Kovár’s taunting words concerning the Kula investigation as he and Detective Sokol had left the professor’s study in Kutná Hora.
Dal had gone personally to question Ludovit Holomek, the Romany man in jail accused of the Filip Kula murder. The man swore he had nothing to do with the actor’s death, that he didn’t even know who Filip Kula was, that he’d come across the body and simply taken advantage of the situation and removed his wallet. He’d admitted that much—the evidence was right there. He’d complained that, for all his trouble, he’d discovered but a few tattered bills. Dal’s inclination was to believe him on all counts. The Romany were known as petty thieves, preying mostly on tourists. Dal had investigated one murder during his entire career in homicide involving a Romany as the perpetrator—an angry wife who had stabbed and killed her husband for no reason other than his complaints about a meal she’d prepared for him.
Across the table, Detective Branislov Cerný seemed to ponder this, though
ponder
was generally not a word associated with the man. Once a virile, athletic man, Cerný had been worn down to a hard core of resentment, if not
Dal nodded, considering this new information. Someone who had been communicating with Zajic on a regular basis, passing away just before the senator himself, certainly warranted another look.
Dal opened a second file and withdrew a photo of a thin man, facedown, red seeping into the sparkling snow like a macabre version of a kid’s cherry ice treat. A man in shabby clothes lying dead at the foot of the statue of St. Wenceslas on Václavské námesti.
“You’re looking at the Filip Kula murder again?” Cerný grunted as he maneuvered himself back into his chair, straightening his back, planting his coffee mug on the table.
“You believe the two homicides are related?” Detective Sokol asked his superior. From the photo, comparing this man to the well-dressed, well-fed senator, it would seem unlikely the two men had anything in common or had met in social circles. Dal, who’d had no part in the Kula investigation, did not intend to officially reopen it, yet he doubted the person responsible for this earlier homicide had been put away. The fact that the lead detective had retired along with the prior chief, Tomáš Malý, concerned Dal. There had been a major shake-up in the department in the past few months.
The case of Filip Kula would not have made headlines—an addict out to score some drugs—had the victim not been a once-popular film star. His murder had dredged up history as well as headlines. Twenty years ago he’d been active as a dissenter during the Velvet Revolution, one of the popular voices of the movement. Within years, his health and fame declined, ravaged by an expensive drug habit. Many younger citizens of Prague, Kristof among them, had not initially recognized the name Filip Kula. Those who knew of the star would not have recognized the man. He’d once been the heartthrob of many a Czech girl, but he’d died a vagabond in frayed trousers and ripped overcoat. His identity had not been known for several days, as he carried no ID. No one was looking for him. His family had disowned him. The first reports assumed he was involved in either prostitution or drugs, since the area was frequented in the early morning by those seeking either. Days later, during a separate investigation, an ID had been found in the hotel room of a man well-known for being part of a petty theft ring, and it had been matched to the murder victim. Being Romany, the accused was considered expendable.
Dal had not seriously considered these two cases related except for the fact that they were far from the norm in Prague, if murder could in any way be considered normal. Prague was a relatively safe city. When a murder occurred it was generally domestic or gang related. And very few murders remained unsolved. Yet he continued to think of Josef Kovár’s taunting words concerning the Kula investigation as he and Detective Sokol had left the professor’s study in Kutná Hora.
Dal had gone personally to question Ludovit Holomek, the Romany man in jail accused of the Filip Kula murder. The man swore he had nothing to do with the actor’s death, that he didn’t even know who Filip Kula was, that he’d come across the body and simply taken advantage of the situation and removed his wallet. He’d admitted that much—the evidence was right there. He’d complained that, for all his trouble, he’d discovered but a few tattered bills. Dal’s inclination was to believe him on all counts. The Romany were known as petty thieves, preying mostly on tourists. Dal had investigated one murder during his entire career in homicide involving a Romany as the perpetrator—an angry wife who had stabbed and killed her husband for no reason other than his complaints about a meal she’d prepared for him.
Across the table, Detective Branislov Cerný seemed to ponder this, though
ponder
was generally not a word associated with the man. Once a virile, athletic man, Cerný had been worn down to a hard core of resentment, if not
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