The Becić Connection Read online

  Mira nodded. “It involved numerous professors and students. And videos. The university has been paranoid about any fraternisation between teachers and students or between teachers. Any contact had to be completely professional at all times. If the university were to find out that Goran and I were friends, we both would probably be fired.”

  “Only friends,” Bree added.

  “Yes.” Mira leaned forward. “Really only friends. I think Goran was asexual. And I’m still mourning the death of my husband even though he died six years ago. Neither Goran nor I were interested in anything romantic. We both just wanted company. And we enjoyed each other. He was immensely intelligent with an amazing sense of humour.”

  “What happened that night?” Manny’s tone had lost some of its patience.

  “Sorry. Yes. So that night, I entered through the closet door. The moment I opened the door, I heard very loud arguing in the front room. It’s not uncommon for students or parents to be furious about something or the other. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. But I didn’t want to complicate the argument by suddenly appearing, so I stayed behind the bookshelf.

  “That’s when I realised he was arguing with a brother I never knew he had. Rene. Goran sounded so sad while he was trying to calm Rene down, but his brother wouldn’t calm down. I think he was on drugs, maybe simply drunk. He was very loud.”

  Everyone had put down their cutlery. Me too. So far, I hadn’t noticed any nonverbal cues of deceit. Just intense sadness. And fear.

  “He accused Goran of painting numbers on some paintings. Goran sounded surprised that he knew about this, but Rene told him that their dad revealed this on his deathbed. It really sounded like he enjoyed telling Goran that their dad had died in his arms and not Goran’s.

  “I was shocked when Goran admitted to painting something onto other artists’ paintings. He said that he never should’ve defaced those masterpieces. Then he muttered something about a landscape by Becić. I couldn’t hear exactly what he said.” She paused. “I’ve seen Goran’s art. He’s quite good with watercolours, but he’s a much better teacher than a painter. I would never have thought he’d paint anything on a masterpiece.

  “But Goran said he’d done that when he was still a student and stupid. Rene then said that their dad told him that Goran was the only son good enough for his treasure. That was when Rene really started shouting. He demanded to know where this treasure map was. Where the treasure was. And what it was.

  “All Goran said was that he was sorry and he didn’t know. That made Rene even more angry. And aggressive. He said he didn’t want Goran’s sympathy. Only the treasure. He needed it. Goran said their dad had only asked him to paint the numbers and promised that he would explain later, but never did.

  “Rene shouted that he never explained because Goran never needed that treasure. He’d become this successful, respected professor.” She shuddered and a tear ran down her cheek. “I should’ve said something or done something, but I was so shocked.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Bree rubbed Mira’s back.

  Mira took a moment to regain her composure. “Goran asked why Rene needed this so-called treasure. He asked if Rene had gambling debt again. Rene started talking weird. He said that he owed someone. The Collector. And if he didn’t pay, this Collector would get him.” Another shudder rolled through her petite frame. “Then he said that the Collector knew everything about Rene. He knew that Goran was his brother. He knew Goran worked late. He knew Goran was friends with a small woman and that we had late-night drinks in his office.

  “Goran asked who this Collector was. Rene never gave a name. He just said that this Collector is powerful. He knew people everywhere and he would find Rene. I could hear how scared he was.”

  “That’s why you don’t want your name out there,” Colin said softly.

  She nodded and took a deep breath. “Rene sounded frantic. That was when I heard a struggle, some shuffling noises and then a loud thump. Rene swore a lot, then it was quiet. For a while, I considered just leaving, but I couldn’t do that to Goran. I made sure the front room was empty, then went in.

  “Goran was lying on the floor. There was a lot of blood under his head.” Tears were now freely streaming down her cheeks. “He must’ve hit his head on the desk during their struggle.” She wiped her tears with the backs of her hands. “His eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling. All that blood under him? That emptiness in his eyes? I knew he was gone.”

  “The medical examiner concluded that he’d died on impact.” Zork’s tone was also quiet, compassion evident on his face. “You were right.”

  Mira dropped her face in her hands and cried silently for a few seconds. Bree shifted her chair closer and put her arm around Mira’s shoulders. She looked at us. “Mira had a sabbatical scheduled to start a week after Goran’s death. This was planned months prior. She stuck around for that week, but hasn’t been back to the university or her flat since then.”

  “Smart.” Luka nodded. He waited until Mira calmed down and looked up. “You’re safe with us.”

  “How did that Collector know about my friendship with Goran? About our drinks?”

  “Another mystery for them to solve.” Bree gave Mira a sideways hug and settled back in her chair.

  “How did you get involved?” Manny looked at Bree.

  “I read about Goran’s death the week it happened, but didn’t think much of it. I was finishing up another article at that moment. But then I got curious. Why was there so little in the news about a respected professor’s violent death in his office?” She narrowed her eyes. “That sex scandal was so big because the university knew about it for years, but never did anything about it. And when someone posted the videos online, the university put pressure on powerful people to make it go away.”

  “But they pressured the wrong people.” Luka nodded. “I remember this. Our police chief was never one to appreciate political pressure. For him, bribery and rich people getting whatever they want, whenever they want it are unforgivable sins.”

  “He went to the top brass with this,” Zork said. “In Zagreb. It was nuclear.”

  “An expression,” Colin said softly, only for me to hear. I nodded.

  “Yeah, so I went to interview a few of Goran’s colleagues.” Bree looked at Mira. “That’s how we met.”

  “Apparently, I’m a terrible liar.” Mira’s smile was weak, but genuine.

  Bree’s smile was wide, filled with affection. “A good problem to have.” She looked at us. “The moment she said she knew nothing, all my radars stood to attention.”

  “Your what did what?”

  Bree giggled and winked at me. “I realised Mira knew something. So I asked. And asked. And asked. And asked.”

  “Oh, hell.” Manny slumped in his chair.

  “Yeah, hell.” Bree nodded slowly. “And then I got my answers. But since those answers had to do with painting things on masterpieces, I knew you guys would be interested.” She waved her hands as if she were a choir conductor. “And here we all are.”

  Manny and Luka asked Mira a few more questions, but she didn’t have answers for any of them. She had shared everything she knew. I sat back in my chair watching the conversation around me and smiled at Bree’s exuberance when Vinnie served the white chocolate muffins.

  Soon after, Luka and Zork offered to escort the two women to their hotel. Luka promised to have uniformed officers posted outside their hotel rooms. They would also have a police escort to wherever they wanted to go during the day. I saw Luka’s genuine concern, but also a calculation that made me wonder if he wanted to know their whereabouts because he wanted to keep them safe or because he wanted to know more about them.

  Either way, I felt at peace knowing that Bree and Mira would have police protection. Bree blew kisses at us, then followed Mira and the two men out. Manny closed the door behind them and walked back to the table, his glare never leaving Colin’s face. “Speak. Now.”

  Colin
raised one eyebrow at Manny. “Back off, Millard. I don’t know much.”

  “Oh, so now you don’t know much. Earlier you didn’t know bloody anything. Which is it?” Manny walked to his chair and sat down hard. “Talk.”

  “Look, it’s only rumours.”

  “Dude.” Vinnie snorted and reached over to take the last muffin. “The last time you said that we dug up a buried treasure.”

  Colin inhaled deeply and took a few seconds before answering. “The first I heard about the Collector was about three years ago. It was just the mention of someone who liked to collect artefacts he deemed interesting. Some of these were invaluable masterpieces and some obscure sculptures and paintings by unknown artists.” He shrugged. “To get his hands on these, it seems like he always commissions the theft. And to do this, he would have to have bottomless pockets. Deep pockets wouldn’t be enough.”

  I understood the expression. But I wanted to understand Colin’s facial expression. “Why are you so worried?”

  He sighed. “I think there’s some truth in what Florian and Rene said about the Collector. I’ve also heard that he has very powerful friends. The type of friends who can make accusations, evidence, cases and even people disappear.”

  Manny rubbed his hands hard over his head. “Bloody hell, Frey.”

  We sat in silence for a few seconds. I looked at Francine. “What did you learn about Rene and Slavko?”

  She glanced at Pink. “We’re following a trail on the darknet. It looks like Rene is involved in all kinds of really bad darknet stuff.”

  “You’re being vague.” I hated it.

  “It’s because we don’t have anything substantial yet,” Pink said. “We both found thin threads that lead to trolling. But we don’t know the depth or level or importance or even relevance of this.”

  “When will you know?” Manny lifted his hand to his mouth to unsuccessfully hide a yawn.

  Francine’s expression softened. “Between Pink, Zork and myself, we have six different deep searches running. I hope we’ll have something within an hour or so.”

  Manny’s phone rang. He swiped the screen and listened for a few seconds. “Right. We’ll be there.” He tapped the screen and looked at me. “Florian is asking for you.”

  I blinked. “He asked for me by name?”

  “No. He asked for the woman who was nice to him.” Manny scratched his stubbled jaw. “The bloody idiot is refusing any medical help until he speaks to you.”

  “I’m going with you.” Colin took my hand. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

  I looked at his face, the bruise I’d given him and then at his scraped knuckles. I didn’t know if it was prudent for him to face Florian, not if we wanted the severely distressed man to answer questions. Yet I needed Colin’s presence to ground me. I nodded.

  “Then that’s it.” Manny got up. “Let’s go.”

  I spent the thirteen-minute drive to the hospital looking out the window, wondering where Rene was, how the Collector fitted into all of this and if Florian would tell us the exact nature of this attack.

  And if we could stop it.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  NUMEROUS FACTORS ABOUT hospitals deeply unsettled me. Even though they were places of healing, they were hotbeds for bacteria, viruses and far too many things that brought on panic and the obsessive need to disinfect my hands. And then there was the distress visible on most people visiting their loved ones.

  But Florian was awake and had requested to see us urgently. I wanted to hear what he could tell us to bring more understanding to this strange case. The nurse who’d phoned Luka had been most annoyed that Florian would put his own health at risk by refusing medical care until he’d spoken to me. I thought about this as we walked into the hospital’s modern entrance.

  Luka had arrived before us and was talking to a police officer standing to the right of the entrance. Colin glanced at Manny as the latter grumbled something under his breath. “What’s that, Millard? Are you complaining because this is a beautiful hospital?”

  “It looks like a bloody hotel,” Manny said and walked over to Luka.

  Manny was correct. The floor tiles alone set this hospital apart from the sterility seen in most other hospitals. The warm cream colour was light enough to look visibly clean, but a shade darker than I would expect. Combined with the soft peach-coloured walls, it made the entrance look welcoming. Large landscape prints in bulky frames and the beautifully upholstered chairs and sofas were the final details that fitted in with Manny’s description.

  Colin and I joined Luka and Manny. The officer acknowledged our arrival with a nod and continued speaking to Luka in Croatian. Less than a minute later, Luka turned to us. “No one knows Florian is here and only two doctors and three nurses entered his room.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Manny asked.

  Luka cleared his throat. “I think it would be best if only Genevieve and I talk to him.”

  “I agree.” I shook my head when Manny scowled. “I don’t know what state he’s in at the moment, but I don’t think he’s much better than a few hours ago. I doubt he would respond well to your anger.” I turned to Colin. “Or your antagonism.”

  “I’m not apologising for punching him or being angry.” Colin’s hand tightened around mine.

  “I didn’t ask for that.” And I wouldn’t. “Luka can ask questions and I will observe and interpret Florian’s nonverbal cues.”

  “Fine.” Manny’s tone and facial expression didn’t support his agreement.

  “Thank you.” Luka bumped fists with the officer and led us to an elevator. Fortunately, it was big enough for ten people. We were only four. He pressed the button for the third floor and turned to us. “Not all hospitals in Croatia look like this one. Most are... how shall I say this? Relics. This is only for rich people.”

  “Then why is Florian here?” I asked.

  “We have a few cases every year where the criminal needs medical attention, but he or she also needs complete anonymity. This hospital was designed with celebrities and the very rich in mind. It’s the perfect place for people who don’t want it known that they are in a hospital.”

  The elevator stopped and the doors opened. We stepped into an empty hallway that was as elegant as the entrance. We made our way towards the end of the hallway. Each room we passed was private, the bed within sight from the doorway, but the top half hidden by a strategically placed wall. Visitors wouldn’t see who was in the bed.

  A man came out of a room two doors down and stopped to look at us. He wasn’t wearing a white coat, but the stethoscope around his neck made me wonder if he was a nurse or a doctor. He waited until we reached him and first greeted Luka in Croatian. Then he turned to us. “Doctor Turato. I speak not English.”

  His smile was apologetic as he turned to Luka and continued in Croatian. As with the officer, we waited while they spoke. Luka asked a few questions and I carefully studied the doctor as he answered. There were no deception cues, only concern and irritation whenever he glanced back into the room.

  Luka impressed me. In many ways, he was similar to Daniel even though they had different personalities. He also put people at ease, building rapport and commanding respect within the first two minutes of an initial meeting. His confidence reassured, his tone and nonverbal cues creating an atmosphere where people could easily trust him.

  He nodded and said something before turning to us. “Doctor Turato is quite worried about Florian. He’s fragile. That’s the word the doctor used. Fragile. He had a minor cardiac episode in combination with his panic attack.” Luka glanced at the doctor. “The doctor really doesn’t want us to speak to Florian and is unhappy that Florian insists. His heart should rest. Also the doctor’s words. He’s worried that when we speak to Florian, his heart rate and blood pressure will rise and cause more damage to his heart.”

  Doctor Turato interrupted and spoke for a while. Then he waved at Luka to translate. Luka smiled. “He says that he understands that
if Florian doesn’t speak to us, he will be even more stressed. He also understands that we’re investigating something he cannot know about, but he’s asking that we take great care when we speak to Florian.

  “Next to Florian’s bed is the machine that shows his heart rate and blood pressure. We must keep an eye on that when we speak to him. The doctor will wait outside the room and check Florian’s vitals on the app on his phone. He’ll intervene if the numbers go too high.”

  Manny grunted and nodded at the doctor. Colin squeezed my hand. “I’ll wait here with the doctor and Millard.”

  I gave a jerky nod and followed Luka into the room. In the far corner was an upholstered chair next to a small round table. The walls in this room were a soft green, similar landscape prints in bulky frames adding to the homey feel. The bed was a standard hospital bed, but the linen was patterned and of obvious high quality.

  Florian was lying flat on the bed, only one pillow under his head. Next to him was the machine the doctor had mentioned, the numbers displayed clearly, the beeping soft and nonintrusive. His heart rate was one hundred and seven, his blood pressure at a hundred and thirty-three over ninety-eight. It was already too high in my opinion. No wonder the doctor was concerned.

  “You’re here.” Florian pushed himself up against the pillow. His pallor was alarming. I didn’t know how we were going to proceed without putting him at risk. All his nonverbal cues communicated intense anxiety.

  “I’m Luka Dalić and this is Doctor Genevieve Lenard.” Luka walked to the far side of his bed and stood by his knees—far enough to create a feeling of safety, but close enough to appear interested.

  Florian looked from him to me. “What kind of doctor are you?”

  “I specialise in nonverbal communication.” I had many more academic credentials and took a deep breath to prevent myself from naming them all. We were here to talk about him.