Innocence; or, Murder on Steep Street by Heda Margolius Kovály

Author:Heda Margolius Kovály [Kovály, Heda Margolius]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Soho Press
Published: 2015-03-29T21:30:11+00:00

The white lace hem of a nightgown peeked out from under the woman’s dark-blue robe. It was surprisingly unseductive. Mrs. Nedomová dabbed at her red eyes and nose with a large handkerchief as she paced back and forth across the room. Lieutenant Vendyš sat hunched on the edge of his chair, watching unhappily. This was the worst part of his profession. At this point, looking at dead bodies, no matter how mutilated they were, was just part of the job and he didn’t let his imagination get the better of him. He kept his emotions out of his investigations, too. But the first conversation with the victim’s closest relatives was always a challenge for him and he rarely handled it well. Usually it was all he could do to rattle off a few sentences, informing them of the basic facts in as condensed a form as possible, then remove himself to the corner and sit with his mouth shut, desperately awaiting a chance to get out with his honor intact.

Lieutenant Vendyš, along with the rest of his colleagues, had been required by the ministry to undergo a two-week training course in psychology. Yet for deep-seated psychological reasons he categorically rejected the idea that the subject was of any use in his profession. His line of work was human acts—more to the point, criminal acts—which was problematic enough as it was. Where would he end up if on top of all that he had to poke around in people’s heads?

The only situations where he admitted the training might come in handy were ones like this, where a little knowledge of the human soul, so to speak, could be useful. How do you break the news to someone that their loved one has met with a violent death—telling them in the least painful way possible, and even more important, causing the least amount of uproar? There probably was no way. Some things just had to run their course. Sometimes with surprising results. Like with Mrs. Nedomová here. The lieutenant hadn’t expected her to take it so hard. Nedoma had hardly been a model husband, and everybody knew it.

“I’m sure you know as well as anyone that Václav wasn’t exactly a model husband,” Mrs. Nedomová told the lieutenant. “I myself am surprised I’m so upset. I’ve wanted a divorce for ages now. But still, it’s not the same.”

She sniffled and raised the handkerchief to her eyes. It was damp, but not that damp.

Vendyš muttered something unintelligible. Of course it wasn’t the same, he thought. Just because you wanted to end a failed marriage didn’t mean you wanted the other person dead. Although—once things got to the point where a husband and wife couldn’t live together anymore, it must be a lot easier, and more respectable, to be widowed than divorced. Especially for a woman. Death had a way of erasing the abuse, balancing out the humiliation. It was easy to forgive a dead man: After all, it wasn’t his choice to leave me, poor guy.

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