Читать книгу The fat man - Wolfgang Armin Strauch - Страница 7

1. Chapter

It hit him completely unprepared. Only a few meters away from him two women were sitting at a table. Had they already discovered him? Were they perhaps talking about him?

It is hardly possible for a two-man to hide. He turned away and lowered his head. But out of the corner of his eye he watched what was happening.

Jadwiga had aged noticeably. She should be around 50 by now. Eva, however, seemed to have retained her youthfulness. He saw her in profile and only with the help of the mirror that was mounted above the counter and distorted her image. Under other circumstances, he would have tried to contact the women. But these two people were now life-threatening for him.

He did not believe in fate. Divine providence was a term without value for him. Too often he had already decided on life and death. He used to seek absolution for his sins in the church. But when a priest put him under, he sent the chatterer to his Creator, still in the confessional.

Eva laughed out loud. Was she mocking him? The women looked at a photo. He was too far away from them to see details. Cold sweat made him shiver. He hadn't thought about his filigree situation for a long time: a breath of wind was enough to destroy his house of cards. Everything would be over. Had chance lured him into the trap?

His friends were waiting at the table. They belonged to a travel group from Warsaw. He had met them only yesterday at the Wawel. He had gladly accepted the offer for a drink because he had nothing planned and his accommodation was uncomfortable.

A few meters separated him from the two women. The man pushed his massive body through the crowded restaurant and sat down on the uncomfortable chair. In this place, it was inevitable that visitors to the toilet would see him. If they hadn't recognized him before, they would see him at the next toilet visit at the latest. He was too big and too fat to go unnoticed. The other chairs at his table were occupied.

While his friends were amused about an unequal couple who insulted each other drunk at the bar with swear words, he was looking for an escape route. Only the window was left to him. The performance alone made him shudder. If the police came, he would have to take that route. He was trapped. In his pocket he had a heavy pocketknife with which he could smash the windows. If the house was surrounded, he would run into the arms of the militia. Cold sweat ran down from his forehead.

The food came. He pushed the plate to the center of the table. Edward teased: "Well, still full of yesterday?" Instead of an answer, the man poured the rest of the vodka into himself and frantically looked for alternatives. The restaurant was like a hose. The toilet was too small to stay there for a long time. The way through the kitchen was blocked by the many guests at the counter.

In the end, all that remained was the exit to leave the women's field of vision. It was time for action. If he took the initiative now, he might have had a chance. Waiting was not his thing. So, he crumpled up the half-full pack of cigarettes, muttered something about "buy cigarettes" and got up from his chair. He took out a handkerchief and snorted in it. Only his eyes peered over the edge. He saw that the women were paying. He had to leave the restaurant before them.

With a few jostles at the crowded bar tables, he reached the door. Without turning around, he pushed it open, jumped down the stairs and mingled with the passers-by. A cardboard sign with a slogan for the National Day blocked the view of the restaurant.

Had anyone followed him? He wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to keep an eye on the exit. The women came out.

Jadwiga turned around. Had she seen him or was he just imagining it?

The hands trembled. The heart ached. His eyes turned black. His extreme overweight drove up his blood pressure. The lungs cried out for oxygen. Supported by a street bollard, he tried to calm down. He sucked in the air deeply, reached into his pocket and took out the pipette with the nitroglycerine. After a few drops his condition returned to normal. The thoughts became clearer again.

The fat man pondered: Should he flee into one of the ancient alleys? But that would only make sense if he had not been discovered, because his body weight prevented any rapid movement. Running away did not solve the problem, which piled up before him like a dark wall.

It was Saturday, July 22, 1967, Poland's national holiday. Everywhere on the street there were stalls with food, drink, and the usual tourist kitsch. From stages droned music that mingled with the murmuring of passers-by. So far nothing had happened. The two women walked slowly through Grodzka Street towards Wawel. The man assessed his chances. If they had not seen him, the fact remained that two dangerous witnesses were still alive.

While he followed the women at a proper distance, the fat man searched the surroundings for militiamen. Many people were on the street. To be on the safe side, he stopped at a jeweler's shop window and watched the people walking by in the mirrors of the displays. Apparently, he had no pursuers. He hurried so as not to lose sight of the women.

Jadwiga was fashionably dressed, but her age was noticed by the somewhat sluggish gait. Eva was in a festive costume. It was too modern for his taste. Did she want to keep up with the students who were animating the streets? He got some doubts. Was that really her? Perhaps he was wrong. But the stature and her gait made his insecurity waver.

He was sure about Jadwiga. He could just walk away. In Krakow nobody knew him. A search would be hopeless. But out of vanity he had made a mistake that could not be rectified. While visiting the Wawel, someone had photographed him, and he was careless enough to mention his name. When the man handed him his card, he understood the faux pas. The photographer was from the "Trybuna Ludu“. Perhaps his picture would be printed in the newspaper nationwide. But he had initially put aside the risk that someone might recognize him. Now it was different. Because of his size and stature, he was unmistakable.

Krakow was full of tourists. But he towered above most people. So, it was easy for him to follow the two women from some distance. If they looked around, there were enough opportunities to slip into an entrance of a house. Besides, it was dawning. He did not yet have a plan but was sure that he would act.

The ascent of the Wawel came in sight. The women stopped. He joined a group of passers-by who were listening to an accordion player. To avoid attracting attention, he reached into his pocket and tossed a coin into the hat of the musician who looked up and thanked him. The fat man would have liked to listen, but he had to be careful that the two women did not disappear from his field of vision. He could barely see Eva saying goodbye. She went in the direction of the Wawel, but then turned around once more and waved to the companion.

The ascent to the Wawel offered no camouflage and was also too steep. At first it looked as if Jadwiga would return to the market, but she took the path into the park that surrounded the old town. A few steps behind a restaurant she turned off, crossed a wide street and finally swung into a passage between two houses. It was narrow and barely enough for one person. Climbing plants sprouted on the walls and seemed to swallow the woman.

The fat man feared that he had lost her, but at the level of the entrance he recognized her stature in the backlight of a streetlamp that was about to go off. Still flickering, she hesitated to throw her rays onto the street. The twilight made everything appear dim. In the sparse residual light of the day, he saw the outline of the woman. He hurried. Before she could step into the light, he whispered: "Jadwiga!”.

The woman turned around. The delay was enough. His strong hands snaked around her neck. She tried to loosen the grip, flailing around with her arms, scratching him, and kicking with her legs. But she had no chance. Horror was reflected in her eyes.

His fat body pressed her against the wall. The leaves of the climbing plant rushed. His thumbs shattered the sensitive structures of the hyoid bone. Once again, he increased the pressure. All his hatred broke out of him at that moment. The woman was already dead.

The attacker loosened his hands. A residual air escaped from her lungs with a rattle. The mouth had opened slightly. The cry for help remained silent. The brain had stopped working. The decay of the body had already begun.

It was done. Only now did the man notice the deep wrinkles in her face. Some make-up and lipstick tried to hide the age. He noticed the scent of the German perfume "Kölnisch Wasser 4711", which his wife also used. Jadwiga fell to the floor like a sack. Bizarrely, her legs twisted. The fat man pushed his feet against the face, whose open eyes stared at him. He tore the chain with a large amber from her neck and picked up her bag. He shoved the booty under his jacket. It was like a rush.

Only now did he think of possible witnesses and an escape route. He looked around. Behind him on the street, passers-by scurried by now and then. That they saw him was unlikely. He stood in the dark. When a truck drove by, he stepped on the sidewalk. He looked back only briefly. The alley hid the crime scene. Nothing revealed that he had just killed somebody.

After about two hundred meters he sat down on a bench. As if in passing he checked the surroundings. Then he searched the bag. He took out her purse, an identity card and the key to the apartment. He threw the rest into the trash. He put the chain in his jacket pocket. It was his trophy. It would remind him of the victory over the past.

Ten minutes later he was sitting in the restaurant again. His glass was filled. He stood up and toasted with his friends. He ordered several rounds of vodka on his bill. Then he paid and left. The accommodation was not far away. Despite the alcohol he felt fit. On his arms were some scratches from Jadwiga's fingernails. Half asleep he thought of Eva.