A Blind Eye: Book 1 in the Adam Kaminski Mystery Series Read online

  “We have a little time before we will meet our hosts here in Warsaw for dinner,” Sylvia announced as Chris made the final arrangements with the front desk and had their luggage sent up to their rooms. “You may use this time as you wish, and I will be back here at the hotel at eight o’clock to take you to the restaurant for dinner.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, we’re right next to Warsaw University here, aren’t we?” Jared asked no one in particular.

  Sylvia smiled and nodded.

  “That’s where I’m headed,” Jared continued, “check out the local college, see what campus life looks like in Poland.” With those words, he headed toward the front door.

  “Wait up, I’ll walk with you,” Chris called as he signed a final document then turned to follow Jared.

  “Not me. I just heard all about a sauna, pool and gym in the basement.” Ray stretched his neck from side to side and the rest of the group heard the cracking sound it made. Adam frowned at the sound and turned away. With a last shrug of his shoulders, Ray asked, “Anyone else for a couple hours poolside?”

  “How about you?” Angela asked, looking up at Adam, “Can I tempt you to join me in a sauna and poolside lounge chair for an hour or so?”

  “That does sound tempting.” Even as he spoke, he glanced at Sylvia’s retreating back.

  “Then why not, what else do you have to do?” Angela’s smile was warm. Comfortable.

  “I would like the chance to talk with you…” His eyes shifted almost against his will toward Sylvia. “But not right now, maybe another time.”

  He jogged across the hotel lobby to catch up with Sylvia, who turned as Adam called her. “Yes? Can I help you find something?”

  “I’m hoping you can point me in the direction of the nearest police station.”

  “Is something wrong?” Sylvia’s brow furrowed. “Has something happened?”

  “No… no.” Adam shook his head. No point in sharing his thoughts with Sylvia, his curiosity about a suspicious death. “No, nothing like that. I just thought I might have a chance to stop in and introduce myself, say hello. Get to know my Polish counterparts. That sort of thing.”

  “Ah.” Sylvia nodded. “Of course, I should have realized. I’m sorry.” She glanced at her watch. “I do have to stop by my office before we all meet for dinner. Between my work and my classes I’ve missed a lot over the past few days… but I think there’s time for me to take you to the police station on the way.”

  Adam followed Sylvia as she led him down Aleje Krakowskie Przedmiescie, the avenue that ran in front of their hotel, to a nearby tram stop. Pale stone and marble buildings lined the street. Elegant arched windows looked out from below decorative cornices, muted greens and grays showing as highlights against the light facades of the carefully renovated buildings.

  Casually dressed students pushed past women in fur coats and men in business suits on the crowded sidewalk. As they stepped to the side to avoid a group of students, Adam put his hand on her back. He felt a tingle run through his fingers as he touched her, but if she felt it, too, she gave no indication.

  “So what do you think about our time here?” He smiled.

  She looked up at him without a word, so he kept babbling. “I’m just asking for your take on things, what you think about our activities here. That’s all.”

  “I see.” She didn’t smile back. “I think your work here is very important, Mr. Kaminski. I believe we must strengthen our ties with the United States if Poland is to grow and thrive.”

  “Is that why you agreed to serve as our guide?”

  “It is.” Sylvia nodded. “Plus this is one more way for me to learn about America — your language, your culture.”

  “Your English is perfect already, I don’t know how much you can improve on that.”

  He hoped she’d appreciate the compliment, but her face remained grave. “I take every opportunity I can to strengthen my knowledge and skills, Mr. Kaminski. You know that I work for the Warsaw government, of course. But I am also a student, at the Szkoła Głowa Handlowa, the Warsaw School of Economics.”

  “Studying Polish economics?”

  “No.” The smile she gave him made Adam feel like a student himself, one who’d just asked an obvious question. “I am taking an international MBA program in English. This way, I learn international business and improve my English skills, and have a chance to meet other students from all over the world.”

  “That’s ambitious.”

  She shrugged. “I take every opportunity I can to develop my career. To be successful.” Her pale blue eyes stared out at the street as she spoke, giving the impression she was speaking to herself rather than to Adam.

  He waited, but she added nothing more. He finally broke the silence. “I only just got added to this team at the last minute, you know. Three days ago I had no idea I’d be here.”

  “You are glad that you are here, no?”

  “No… I mean, yes. I’m sorry, I’m not saying things right.” Adam shrugged and smiled, raising his hand to his cheek. He gestured at the street around them. “I love history. Being in a place like this makes it all so real. It’s almost like seeing history firsthand, if you know what I mean.”

  Sylvia smiled at him. “I am glad to hear that you are a fan of history. For that is something we have quite a lot of here in Poland.”

  Adam laughed. “Someone who can make history jokes, I like that.” He glanced at Sylvia, then looked back down at his hands. “It is serious, though, isn’t it?”

  “History?” Sylvia asked, her brow furrowing.

  “Sure,” Adam shrugged. “You know what they say, those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it.”

  Sylvia’s smile faded and Adam noticed small lines forming around her eyes, as if she were about to squeeze her eyes shut but changed her mind.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Adam put his hand out toward her, then pulled it back, unsure.

  “No, no.” Sylvia waved away his concern and his hand. “I’m fine. It’s just here we have what you in America might call a love-hate relationship with history.” She shook her head but her smile didn’t return.

  Adam was about to ask her what she meant when the next tram came, already overflowing with people. Sylvia and Adam stepped into the back of the car, gripping overhead leather straps for balance as the tram lurched through the city streets.

  “There, Ulica Miodowa.” Sylvia pointed out a tree-lined street to Adam as they crossed over it. “That is where I live, just off the Old Town Square, a building called Wojska Polskiego, named for the church next door.”

  Adam nodded and ducked his head to watch as the yellow stone buildings that lined the cobblestoned street passed out of view. “It’s a beautiful area.”

  “It is. The apartment belonged to my grandmother, who left it to my mother, who passed it on to me. My neighbors all knew my mother when she was young, so it feels like I am always surrounded by family.”

  She smiled, and Adam’s attention was diverted from the beauty of the neighborhood to the beauty of her smile, the faint scent of lavender that surrounded her.

  The tram pushed forward, turning along Warsaw’s crooked streets.

  9

  Ten minutes later, Adam and Sylvia ascended a short flight of marble steps up to the yellow stone building on Ulica Wilcza that housed Warsaw’s central police station.

  “Nie! To nie prawda!” A man’s angry shout greeted them as they entered the cramped space. The man slammed his fist down on the gray countertop as he shouted at the uniformed officer standing behind it.

  Adam and Sylvia stopped short in the entranceway.

  “What’s going on?” he whispered in her ear.

  She put a hand up to touch his shoulder. “I don’t know, something happened to that tall man and they seem not to believe him.” She kept her attention on the scene as she spoke.

  “What are they saying?” Adam asked again.

  “It does not concern u
s.” Sylvia shook her head as she spoke.

  Adam watched the interaction without understanding a word.

  The man confronting the officers was tall and well dressed, though his elegant clothes were well worn. He rubbed his hand across his forehead as he talked and when he did, Adam could see that he favored his right side, as if he had been recently injured. After the outburst Adam and Sylvia had walked in on, he had not yelled again. But his voice held a tension and anger that did not need translation.

  The response of the two officers behind the desk made Adam question their training. In a similar situation at home, the uniformed officers would take steps to calm and reassure an angry member of the public, either to elicit accurate information or just to get him out of their hair. These officers smirked up at the tall man, rolling their eyes in response to his statements. One leaned heavily against the cracked countertop and rolled a rubber stamp around between his fingers as he spoke.

  A glint of metal from around the collar of the shorter officer caught Adam’s eye, and he jerked his head to the left as he recognized the pendant the officer pulled out from behind his shirt. As the officer fingered the small gold medal of Saint Casimir, the patron saint of Poland, Adam stiffened. His hand reached out for Sylvia’s shoulder, looking for something real. A human touch to keep his mind here, in the present.

  He could see the other Saint Casimir medal as if that Philly cop were standing in front of him. Smell the scent of the lilies. That cop had thought the kids deserved it. Adam could tell by the way he swaggered toward the grave. The way he glanced at the parents out of the corner of his eye. Black kids, center city Philadelphia, of course they deserved it.

  But Adam knew better. And he knew that cop, and others like him, were the reason too many kids were being hurt in the city. With no one to defend them. No one to look out for them.

  Adam felt himself falling. Knew he was at risk of losing himself in the memory. The shame. The anger.

  Finally, a third uniformed officer approached from a back room and said a few sharp words to the two behind the counter. He turned to the tall man. “Nie możemy pomóc, Panie Kamiński.”

  The words were enough to pull Adam back to the present. Back to the station where the tall man had stopped speaking and was now nodding. Adam tore his eyes away from the medal, trying to forget the past and focus on the present. “What did that officer just say?”

  Sylvia shook her head and frowned but didn’t answer.

  The newly arrived policeman reached under the counter. Producing a sheaf of papers, he pulled off the top sheet and handed it to the officers at the counter. These two shared a look. Adam wasn’t sure of its meaning. Was it derision? Concern? The officer who had been leaning on the counter slammed the rubber stamp down on the paper, leaving a blurry red mark. He then handed this stamped sheet to the tall man. The man glared at him as he took it, along with a clipboard and pen, and turned toward a chair against the far wall.

  As he turned, his shoulder brushed roughly against Adam’s. The man looked toward Adam and nodded, only slightly. His green eyes seemed to glow in his face, though it was probably the contrast with their redness that gave this impression. Adam nodded in return, and the man continued toward the chair, where he sat and started filling in the form.

  Sylvia turned to Adam. “I think that is over now. I shall introduce you.”

  She moved forward as she spoke and Adam followed her up to the counter. The third officer, who seemed to be in charge, still stood there and Sylvia addressed her words to him.

  Adam focused his attention on this officer as well, avoiding eye contact with the shorter officer who reminded him far too much of his Philly counterpart. His interaction with his Polish colleagues, however, was limited by the language barrier. None of the officers present spoke much English, just a few words between them, so Sylvia served as an interpreter for the brief conversation.

  Adam was greeted warmly by these officers, but the awkwardness of their responses to his basic questions made it clear to him, even without understanding their words, they were at a loss for how they could work with him in any meaningful way.

  After five minutes of this, the lead officer suggested that perhaps Adam could come back another day.

  “He says there may be someone on duty another time who can speak in English,” Sylvia translated for him, “to show you around the station and explain the processes they use here.”

  Adam nodded, almost grateful this meeting was coming to a close. As they shook hands to take their leave, the tall man returned to the counter with his form completed. He glanced toward Adam and Sylvia, then spoke harshly to the men behind the counter.

  They simply accepted his paper without speaking, tucking it into a folder on the countertop already overflowing with similar forms.

  “Bah.” The man waved his hand disdainfully toward the officers as he turned back to the door.

  “What was that all about?” Adam asked the officers, hoping Sylvia would translate. When she stayed silent, Adam looked toward the officers, raising his eyebrows and his shoulders in what he hoped was the universal sign for a question, pointing toward the departing man.

  The lead officer responded, his disbelief painted plainly on his face. “He says he was attacked,” Sylvia translated the response. “But he does not remember where or by whom. The officer says they do not believe he was attacked, they think maybe he got drunk and got in a fight but has forgotten.”

  She turned to look up at Adam. “It has nothing to do with us, we should not be involved.”

  “Okay, I understand.” Adam shrugged and expressed his thanks once again to the officers, promising to return another day to try his luck.

  As he held the door for Sylvia, Adam saw the tall man outside, standing on the sidewalk with his hand to his face as if deep in thought. Adam felt the eyes of the Polish police officers burning a hole through his back as the door lumbered closed behind him, but he couldn’t help himself. Descending the steps, Adam walked toward the man.

  “Good afternoon. Do you speak English?”

  The man looked at him without responding for so long Adam was sure he hadn’t understood. Just as Adam was about to wave Sylvia over to help with translating, the man spoke. “I do, of course. How can I help you?”

  He spoke with a strong accent, but his voice was low and melodic and he clearly knew English well. Adam reconsidered what he was going to say. “I couldn’t help overhear you in the police station just now. I understand you have some problems.”

  “You speak Polish?” the man asked, sounding surprised.

  “Only a little, not much. I understand all the same. I’m sorry the police aren’t able to help you.”

  “There is much going on in Warsaw for them to be concerned with. An attack I cannot even remember… I can understand their disbelief.” The man shrugged and looked up and down the street, heavy with cars, buses and trams. “I will manage.”

  He looked back at Adam and smiled. “Thank you, all the same, for your concern. Łukasz Kaminski.” He held out his hand as he introduced himself and Adam caught a whiff of simple soap and sandalwood.

  “Kaminski?” Adam asked, then added under his breath, “Like Basia.”

  “What was that?” The man’s face darkened, his shoulders stiff. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, sorry,” Adam shook his head, smiled. “My name is Kaminski, Adam Kaminski.”

  “Kaminski? From the United States, I gather from your accent?”

  “Yes, that’s correct. Philadelphia.”

  “Aha.” Łukasz’s eyes lit up. “I think we might be related.”

  “I’m sure it’s a common enough name, at least here in Poland. It probably means nothing.” Adam forced thoughts of the bloated corpse away.

  “No, no, I think it might.” Łukasz nodded as he spoke. “Are you the son — or more likely the grandson — of Witold Kaminski, whose family moved to Philadelphia from Poznan in 1940?”

  “I am.” Now Adam
was smiling. “How did you know?”

  “My grandfather was Jan Kaminski, cousin to Witold.” Łukasz laughed and slapped Adam on the shoulder. “So you are my… what would that be?”

  “Second cousin, maybe?” Adam ventured.

  “Yes, when I was younger I heard stories about this cousin who moved to America, but I think not so much recently. The family that got out.” Łukasz’s brow furrowed as he looked at Adam. “The ones who didn’t have to endure the war. What a pleasant surprise this is.”

  A movement at his side reminded Adam he was not alone. “I’m sorry, I’m being so rude. Łukasz Kaminski, may I introduce Sylvia Stanko, my Polish colleague.”

  “Pani Stanko, bardzo mi miło,” Łukasz took her hand in his and held it as if to kiss it rather than shake it. Sylvia smiled at him and retrieved her hand.

  “Sylvia, we’ve just discovered we have distant relations in common,” Adam explained. “What an amazing chance to run into each other like this. Though in unfortunate circumstances, I think, at least for you.” He looked questioningly at Łukasz.

  Before Łukasz could respond, Sylvia jumped in. “I am very pleased to meet you as well, Pan Kaminski, a great pleasure.” She turned her attention to Adam. “I am sorry, but I must make it to my office before we all meet for dinner this evening. Adam, I’m sorry to tear you away. Can I show you the way back to your hotel?”

  “That’s not necessary Sylvia, I’m sure I can find it on my own.”

  Sylvia glanced briefly at Łukasz before turning back to Adam. “If you are sure. I am sorry to leave you. I hope you do not find yourself in any trouble.”

  “Absolutely not, no problem at all.” Adam paused and took her hand. “And Sylvia, thank you for your help.”

  She smiled and gave a small wave as she walked back down the street toward the tram stop.

  “Beautiful lady, no?” Łukasz asked Adam, a glint in his eye.

  Adam dragged his eyes away from Sylvia’s retreating form and turned his attention back to Łukasz. “Yes, she is. But I’d like to hear more about you… if you’re interested, that is. I don’t want to impose.”