A Blind Eye: Book 1 in the Adam Kaminski Mystery Series (2 page)

T
he train
from Warsaw approached Toruń from the south, offering its passengers a view of the brown brick walls of the historic city lit up by the orange October sun, the river a golden glow around the base of the old fortifications.

Adam turned his eyes away from the window as the train slowed. It was beautiful, sure, but he had no idea how he could turn this boondoggle into something good for the department.

He stowed his book in his shoulder bag and reached for his suitcase in the overhead rack, but shifted his weight to grab for the bag next to his when he felt the silk of Angela Tarallo’s suit against his hand. She had stepped close to him, her brown eyes scanning the rack.

“Thanks.” She smiled as he pulled her suitcase down.

“No problem, let me get that for you.”

One eyebrow arched above the black frame of her glasses as Angela assessed Adam. “Thanks again. And here I thought chivalry was dead.”

“Not with legs like those, pretty lady.” The comment came from Ray Pagano, standing in the narrow hallway outside their train compartment. “Now hurry up, you two, Chris said the train’s not stopping here for long.”

Angela wiped the smile from her face. She turned to Adam and he thought he might have heard the word “jackass” floating on her breath, but couldn’t be sure. Ray swaggered away and Adam followed him off the train, pushing Angela’s bag ahead of him and dragging his own behind him.

Chris Burns, member of the Philadelphia International Council and head of their delegation, walked ahead, leading the rest of the team toward the main station. Passengers crowded the platform, weaving past one another toward the trains that waited or the station ahead. Adam watched Angela as she kept pace with Chris, walking with confidence even as she scanned the station, absorbing the sights and sounds. Her long dark hair swayed against her shoulders as she walked and he had to admit, Ray was right about her legs. This trip might have even more to offer than he’d expected. Then his attention shifted as a different woman on the platform caught his eye.

She stood alone, oblivious to the crowds moving around her. And to the men whose eyes lingered on her as they passed. Her gaze moved from the clock high on the wall to the train schedule below it and she shifted her weight as she waited, her long woolen coat failing to conceal the generous curves that added a seductive promise to the classic beauty of her features. When she turned toward the group approaching her, a smile lit up her face. Adam tripped over the suitcase he was pushing.

She stepped forward and extended her free hand in greeting as Chris neared. Angela stopped, looking over her shoulder at Adam then turning back to the woman in front of them.

“Chris Burns, yes?” the woman asked.

“Yes, that’s me. I’m the head of the delegation from Philadelphia.” Chris nodded as he spoke and shook her hand.

“Good. Good afternoon. I am Sylvia Stanko, your liaison here in Poland. Welcome to Toruń.”

She smiled at each of the team in turn, her eye lingering on Adam, who had come up to join the rest of the group as she introduced herself. Adam couldn’t help but smile in return, then brushed his hand across his face to hide his dimples, which he thought were inappropriate for a man of his age.

“And I think I know who each of you are. I have been reviewing your details. Angela Tarallo, with the Philadelphia Commerce Department?” Sylvia asked.

Angela nodded and shook Sylvia’s hand.

“And you must be Ray Pagano.” She smiled at Ray, who winked back as he shook her hand. “I’m glad that Philadelphia was able to include a local business owner on this trip.”

“It’s always a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman.” Ray held her hand longer than necessary.

Sylvia simply smiled, then turned to Adam. “I believe you will be Jared White, no?” She smiled engagingly at Adam, but Jared jumped in.

“Nope, that would be me.” He thrust his hand out and greeted Sylvia with enthusiasm. “Jared White, at your service.”

“I am sorry.” Sylvia seemed unsure of herself for the first time since Adam had noticed her. “You look very much alike.”

Adam wasn’t surprised. If Sylvia had only a physical description to go by, instead of a photograph, their similar size, hazel eyes and chestnut hair would make him and Jared hard to distinguish. Though he was pretty sure his ears didn’t stick out like that.

“That’s okay.” Jared’s broad smile showed all of his teeth. “Not a problem at all. It’s a pleasure to be here. I’m really looking forward to this visit and to learning more about your fascinating country. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot I can take back to my students in Philly.”

“Adam Kaminski.” Adam spoke at last. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Sylvia shook his hand with a smile. “Then we are all here. Wonderful. I will take you to your hotel. We will take a scenic route, I think. A chance for you to see this beautiful town for the first time.”

She started walking as she spoke, and the rest of the team followed. Passing quickly through the station, Adam and his colleagues were soon seated in the small van that had been arranged for them, Sylvia sitting up front next to the driver.

The luggage barely fit into the storage area in the rear of the van. Every time they hit a bump in the road, Adam felt the back of his chair pushed forward by the shifting bulk of it.

Captivated by the history around them, Adam hardly noticed the discomfort. Narrow winding streets carried them through the medieval town. Many of the buildings were of brown brick, topped with distinctive orange roofs. Closer in toward the historic market square in the old town, the architecture became even more vibrant and joyful, with building fronts painted in yellow, orange and green.

As they drove through the centuries-old city, Sylvia narrated their journey, pointing out twelfth- and thirteenth-century buildings, the home of Copernicus, a castle built by Teutonic Knights. Jared and Angela listened attentively, their eyes seeking out the details Sylvia described. Ray seemed less captivated, his head drooping, eyes closing. Whenever the van hit a bump, his head would jerk up, his eyes fly open.

Adam watched the cobblestoned streets around them, pedestrians and motorists going about a typical twenty-first-century day in a thirteenth-century town. He couldn’t help but wonder what his life would be like if his grandfather hadn’t left Poland. If he had been raised in this country. Maybe this trip wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He could try to look up his cousins, find out what had become of the Polish side of his family. It could be nice to take his mind off crime for a while.

Angela turned from the seat in front of him, adjusting her glasses as she shifted. “Beautiful, huh?”

“It is.” He nodded. “Makes me think about my family. They came from Poland.”

“Oh, yeah? Not me, this trip is purely professional for me, a way to learn a few things and build up my resume.” She gave Adam a flirtatious look. “But I could be inspired by this place, I think.”

Adam laughed. “I thought you were keeping this trip purely professional? Focusing on your career?”

“Hey, nothing wrong with networking.” Angela grinned and winked at Adam, then sat back in her seat.

Adam smiled, forgetting his dimples as he turned his attention back to Sylvia’s melodic voice and her commentary about Toruń.

The van pulled up in front of a large stone mansion. “Ah, we are here, your hotel,” Sylvia said as she opened her door.

The others stepped out of the cramped van, stretching their legs.

“We have booked rooms in the Hotel Bulwar for your stay here. It is an excellent hotel,” Sylvia explained.

“Of course, what a perfect idea,” Chris smiled. “Does this street look familiar to anybody?”

Ray, Angela, Jared and Adam all looked around, but nothing struck them as familiar, and they said so.

“This is Philadelphia Boulevard,” Chris announced triumphantly. “Named so after we first became sister cities in 1976.”

The others made unintelligible sounds that could have been amazement, sarcasm, or complete disinterest. Adam followed the group into the hotel, his mind dancing around the idea of seeking out his lost cousins.

Ł
ukasz Kaminski
sat
behind his simple wooden desk, his hands resting, fingers splayed, on the scuffed surface. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes and shutting out the familiar sounds of the newsroom outside his door.

It
was
all familiar, and the thought comforted him. He heard the distinctive tread of young Marcin, dragging his feet as always. With each ring of the phone, he knew another lead was coming in, another story being followed up by one of his eager colleagues. Even Michał, who walked so silently, left his own trail. Łukasz caught the odor of
Mocne
, the familiar brand of tobacco that lingered in Michał’s coat and sweater as he passed by his open door.

With a crack that resounded into the hallway, Łukasz slapped his hands onto the surface of his desk, venting his frustration as he opened his eyes. He could remember so much. Why could he not remember everything?

Dissociative amnesia, the doctor had said. It would clear with time. Had he suffered an injury, the doctor had asked. Or perhaps suffered an emotionally traumatic experience? Yes, and yes, Łukasz now knew. He should have been at home, healing. But the fastest way for him to heal was to figure out what happened.

He turned his attention back to the box of files on the floor to his right. Half the folders that had been resting comfortably in the file box were now strewn about the floor around his desk. He didn’t care. These were the files he’d already reviewed and discarded as useless. They gave him no clue as to what lead he had been following when he was attacked. What dangerous secret he’d unearthed.

“Ahem…”

Łukasz sat up from the file box at the sound of the gentle cough from his doorway. “Michał.”

The other man smiled at Łukasz. The sad kind of smile reserved for the sick or the bereft.

Łukasz consciously avoided looking at the framed picture on his desk. It didn’t help. He knew every shadow and line in the photograph anyway. He blinked.

“Łukasz, I’m so sorry. We all are.” Michał gestured vaguely at the newsroom behind him. “She was a beautiful girl. Please, if there is anything I can do. Anything at all…” Michał let the words hang in the air, where they blended with his smoky aura.

“I know, Michał, thank you.” Łukasz’s response was gruff, but he meant it. He knew how much his colleagues wanted to help. He looked at last at the picture of Basia, smiling up at him from a bench in the shade on the Warsaw University campus. Perhaps he wasn’t alone, after all.

Looking up, Łukasz opened his mouth to utter the words that would call on his friends for help when another familiar figure loomed in the doorway, blocking out the rest of the newsroom.

“Łukasz, Łukasz.” His editor spoke loudly, as if wanting everyone to hear. He rested a well-manicured hand against the door, the other deep in the pocket of his silk trousers. “You poor, poor man. You should not be here today. What can we do to help you? What can any of us do?”

The words were kind, but the eyes behind them cold, calculating. Or so Łukasz told himself.

He turned back to the box of files on the floor. “Nothing, sir. Thank you. I’m just getting back to work. Trying to forget. There’s nothing anyone can do to help now.”

With a nod, Łukasz’s editor left the doorway. Michał lingered a few seconds longer. When Łukasz failed to look up, he, too, walked away.

Alone again, Łukasz picked up the next file in the box. Another half-written story about corruption in the government. A government official taking bribes in return for helping a private company navigate Poland’s complicated tax system to its advantage. Łukasz placed this file on one of the two piles on his desk.

A few minutes later, three more files added to the mess growing on the floor around him, Łukasz paused with a folder in his hand. Another file about the previous regime. Why had he been researching the Soviet era? What could he hope to find from such dated information? With a shrug, he added it to the second, smaller pile on his desk. Then turned back to the box.

It didn’t take long to work through all the folders in the box. These were all that remained of his notes. A box left behind accidentally, now his only tie to the leads he had been following before he was attacked. Everything he had taken home with him — the most important notes he wanted to spend more time on — had been stolen from his apartment while he lay recovering in the hospital.

If only he could remember more. Who had he been talking to? Who had attacked him? Why had he been left for dead in that alley?

The attack had left him without any memories of most of a day. But it hadn’t blunted his memory of the thing that mattered most. The death of his daughter, Basia. The determination by the police that it had been a suicide. Łukasz’s own determination to prove it wasn’t.

The police refused to take the attack on him seriously, insisting he had just been in a drunken fight. What nonsense. A drunken fight that left him without memory and his apartment ransacked? Only days after his daughter died?

It didn’t matter what they said. He wasn’t letting them off the hook that easy. They were the only people he could trust at this point. Assuming he could even trust them. He would continue to haunt the station closest to where Basia was killed, reminding them every day that he wouldn’t let the case drop. And at least now he had a lead — if he found the person who attacked him, it would bring him that much closer to finding the truth about what happened to Basia.

Muttering under his breath, he kicked at a piece of paper lying on the floor near him and it took off, floating three or four feet before settling again on top of another piece just like it.

Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes again. His memory would come back. He just needed to be patient. To wait. And to keep searching.