The Lullaby of Polish Girls Read Free Page B

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Kurka
, rubbed his eyes every once in a while, stifling yawns.
    “Elwira’s boyfriend beat up on her. Not just a slap here and there, ’cause God knows, she deserved that from time to time. I’m talking a black eye, cigarette burns, that kind of thing. I never did anything to stop him. Neither did you guys. But my husband …” Justyna faltered. “My husband tried to stop him. He—”
    Kurka had stopped scribbling after “she deserved” and sat there stiffly with his lips pursed.
    “Mrs. Strawicz, we need information pertaining to last night. Just last night.” Justyna tapped a cigarette on the table. How could she explain to this dimwit that the last twenty-five years of her life pertained to Paweł’s death? That somewhere in the far-flung past, there was a kernel of an answer to what the fuck had happened a few hours ago.
    “At about midnight, Filip came home drunk, started picking on Elwira. Told her to cook him food, or something. So she goes, ‘Fuck off’ and he—”
    “Elwira Zator, your younger sister?”
    Justyna nods her head. They knew exactly who Elwira Zator was; at that very moment her sister was in another room down the hall, getting interrogated by another drab officer.
    “Anyway, he smacked her and her nose started bleeding. Paweł was, like, enough of this shit. So, you know, he punched him, punched Filip, just once but it was enough.” Justyna smiled recalling the force of her husband’s gallantry. “Then Filip went upstairs. Fell asleep, I guess.” Justyna was aware of her repeated use of the term
guess
. She sighed audibly; there was no point to the interrogation and she wished Officer Kurka would just let her go.
    Filip had lugged himself up the stairs, blood sprayed on his face, drunk as a skunk. He was roaring obscenities and Justyna was afraid the kids would wake up, but they were used to slumbering through fights. At one point Filip lost his footing and fell backward, on his ass, grabbing the railing at the last minute to keep from tumbling downstairs. Justyna wondered where they would all be now had Filip lost his grip completely, had he tumbled backward, perhaps twisted his neck.
    “We all went to bed. Around one-thirty A.M. I
guess
. Ah, goddamnit, you sure you wanna hear it? I mean, nothing I got here—nothing!—is, whattaya call it,
conclusive
.”
    Kurka nodded impatiently.
    “Okay, then, I
guess
Filip woke up and went down to the kitchen to get a knife. Elwira was sleeping on the couch. She heard him but thought he was just parched, sobering up, and she went back to sleep. Aren’t you guys getting all this from Elwira? I mean she was the one who saw—”
    “Just go on, Mrs. Strawicz. We need to hear every single witness account.”
    Witness
implied awareness, it implied action, but Justyna felt like a passerby at best. She exhaled loudly, her head spinning.
    “Elwira heard the scream. I can sleep through anything. Obviously.” Justyna sighed and smiled dryly. “By the time I found Paweł in the bathroom, he was facedown on the floor, there was blood everywhere and, um, I dunno, sir, just a lot of fucking blood. I just stood there. Like I … like I couldn’t fucking move.”
    “Shock, Mrs. Strawicz.”
    “No shit, sir.”
    Kurka pursed his mouth again. She could tell her constant cursing was irritating the fuck out of him.
    “Then Elwira ran up, her throat bloody, from where Filip, uh, grabbed her, I guess. She was crying and she managed to tell me that Filip had run out the back, but not before he found her on the couch and told her if she said anything she’d be fucking next. She didn’t know what he was talking about, naturally. Not then, anyway.”
    “Well, try to get some rest. Kielce is a relatively small city, Mrs. Strawicz, and we’ll do our best.”
    Two young cops drove her home. They were nice enough and the one with the mustache was kind of cute. They told a joke about a prostitute and a blind gypsy and Justyna laughed along.