The Secrets of the Basement

Nothing is what it first seemed to be

NUPTIALS OF DEATH

If you haven't read the previous episode yet, click here

He was watching the video he made of one of the show hosts when somebody was knocking on the door. It was the mason, announcing that he would finish the job by the evening. With that he signed his sentence. He was working for weeks on the new basement area to be constructed under the garage. He was told he's making a bunker for the paranoid owner. The master came from Transylvania, and he was grateful for the huge sum he got for his work as well as the food and board in the house.

Throughout the first week he was watching the worker day and night, but he didn't see anything suspicious. He wasn't going out to the pub, he wasn't going out anywhere at all. He ate what he got and after work, whilst watching the TV he drank the two bottles of beer he got prepared in the fridge every day.

He tweaked with the mason's cell phone right on the first day, so he wouldn't be able to talk to anyone about the odd job. He promised the worker to get him a replacement, but every day he had a new excuse why he didn't do it that day.

The new rooms were accessible from a metallic, changing room-type locker from the garage. The ladder opened from the bottom of the locker by turning a secret latch. Down below he got two room made, separated by a sound-blocking steel door. Into one he even got a sink and a metallic toilet installed. As the mason knew, that would be the area where the owner would live during a nuclear fallout, whilst the other would be his control room. From there he can keep the outside cameras in sight and analyze the radiation. Behind the control panel he had a hole made, saying that he will have to store several months' worth of food and bottled water there. He didn't let the mason take the dirt out. He explained the worker how food stored under dirt is good longer. The mason was a little startled by this, but he didn't object. By hiw own idea he even lined the bottom and the sides of the hole with concrete, he must have thought that a little bit of cinder can't hurt the stocks dug in there.

All in all he did a nice job, he would've deserved his pay, but since the location was of key importance to the final game, no one could know about it. That was part of the Death Matrix too.

He tricked the mason to the edge of the hole, and thrust his knife straight into his heart. His final payment was that he could die fast, without much torment.
The corpse dropped in the hole soundlessly. He tossed the knife next to him, and with quick moves he started to shovel the dirt onto him. Metal and Earth, one more step.

As the hole filled up the paved its place with concrete. In a few days he will even put down the missing floor tiles, concealing the mason's grave forever.
He won't need any helpers for the installation of the electronics, so nobody will catch wind of the first, privately owned, remote-controlled execution room in the country.

*

They were guessing until the dawn, what could the blog group have in common with the death of the husband. Máté kept by his idea of Psychofairy being the key character, whilst Anna wanted to go after the commenter named Sangel, but as they re- and reread the blog, it got clearer and clearer that nothing is what it first seemed to be. Carefully revisiting the last two days' posts they noticed that more commenters appeared to have posted something that may bring up the possibility of them knowing of the husband's death earlier than Anita posted it. Around 3am they decided to ask for Dávid's help to take a closer look on the commenters.

Máté haven't yet talked to his girlfriend about Dávid's suspense, he didn't want to get her worked up for no reason. Even though they didn't find exact proof of the unknown hacker having anything to do with what happened a year before, all three of them knew that this person was dangerous. The police didn't really deal with why did Dávid's e-mail girlfriend die exactly the day after the hacker attack, and why from that day did Anna feel like as if she was being followed. Every clue lead into a dead end, and no matter how Máté and his people were expecting the new attack, the hacker disappeared as if he never even existed. But if now he turned up again, that can bring unforeseen consequences. Even though the first counter-moves have to be made by Dávid, Máté wanted to be next to him when he does so.

The next day their flight left at 1.30pm for home. When Máté woke up, his girlfriend has already finished packing, as she said, so they can say a worthy good-bye to Paris. For Anna it meant disappearing into the underground maze of shops of Forum des Halles, and Máté sat down at a cozy terrace on Rue Montmartre and ordered a petit déjeuner. At home he never had breakfast, but in Paris he got used to the freshly baked croissant, and to staring at the passers-by from the side of his poison-strength coffee.

The waiter just appeared as his cell phone rung. As he was waiting for his breakfast, he read through his messages, and then he forgot to turn it off.

Even though there was no number on the caller ID, he listened to his sixth sense and picked up.
– Are you okay? – Orsi asked desperately.
From the over-the-top excitement of the voice, Máté guessed she has already gotten drunk, or that she hasn't even sobered up from the previous night yet.
– What would be wrong with me? I'm sitting on a terrace on Rue Montmartre, the sun is shining, there are all well-dressed folks around me... But what is wrong with you? Don't tell me you...? I thought you would be on screen tonight.
– I've been clean for three days... because of you.
– Because of me? I couldn't reach it in a year being next to you almost every day, and now from a thousand miles away I suddenly can?
– You wrote me you were in trouble, and that you needed me.
– Thanks, I'm fine... Anna too... but...

– You called me to City Park for midnight!
– Me? I've been in France for a week now.
– You sent me an e-mail.
– I swear I turned my PDA on for the first time in a week just now.

That wasn't quite true, but he really didn't write any e-mails.
– It came with your name.
– Farkas Máté? (translator's note: in Hungary, people don't use the Western name order, but the last name comes first, then the first and middle names)
– Reverse, in Western order, as you always use it: mate.farkas.
– I never ever had such an address. And did you go to City Park?
– Do you swear on your life that it wasn't you writing that?
– Think, Orsi! I would never take you to an empty park at night. I know exactly of our phobias, and even if it was about somebody's life, I would still invite you to some crowded place. Actually it's easier to hide there. When did you get that e-mail?
– Friday. I immediately wrote back, something like don't fuck with me, and I keep calling you since then, but nothing...

Máté put down his croissant.
– I hope you didn't go there? – he asked worried.
– No. I wanted to, but I was so scared... I knocked myself out.
– Thank God! – he answered immediately, and after a little pause he added: – I didn't think I would ever be glad about you getting fucked up.
– But last night I did go out – she went on –, and I talked to a dog-lover there, who did see a man out there around that time. So far I didn't think it would be important, but now that I know it wasn't you, it may be important…
– What did he look like?
– Average 45-ish man, no special features.
– It must have been some journalist trying to get some info out of your fears!
– I don't think so. Or do you think they would do such a thing?
– I ain't get startled on anything anymore – said Máté darkly.
– Are you still there? – she broke the long silence.
– Yeah, I'm just thinking. I really don't like this whole thing...
– I'm terribly scared! – Orsi said with a frightening tone.
– Be really careful! Try not to remain alone for a minute. Ask somebody to take you home. And most importantly, don't drink!
– I don't drink anymore. When do you come home?
– We will be home tonight.
– Can you come over?

Máté almost promised to, but then he thought of Psychofairy and Anna, and decided otherwise:
– Maybe, I don't know about my programs yet. It would be better to ask a girlfriend of yours to sleep over…
– I have no girlfriends… – she said in a colorless tone.
– I give you Dávid's number – he changed topics, – talk to him, maybe he can find it out who sent the e-mail!

He could hear crying from the other end of the line.
– Don't worry, it will be all right, Márkus is dead, he can't hurt you any longer – he was comforting her.
– I know, but I'm so scared…

Silenced Secrets

The most popular show hostess of the country was spotted amongst drugged celebrities. It is suspected that she does cocaine regularly, too.

NUPTIALS OF DEATH

If you didn't read the previous episode yet, click here

In the meantime, night has fallen. There was not a single open spot left at the terrace of the café. Máté arrived back with a mischievous smile and two glasses of wine, but his jolly mood quickly vanished as he saw Anna.

– What happened? – he asked concerned.
– Nothing – Anna answered, faking neutrality.
– Nah... I left you here all happy, and now you're pale and grumpy.
– I got some bad news from home.
– Bad news? What?

Anna was feverishly thinking of some lightweight, white lie, but finally she decided against it. When she hooked up with Máté, she swore to herself that she will always be honest to him. Well, obviously not always in all the everyday little things or innocent flirts, just in the important cases.

She took a deep breath and she got it out:
– I left you out on something. You won't like it.
Máté tried to cover up his worries.
– Whilst I was chatting with the waiter, you fell for some French guy?
– No, please don't joke around now, Máté! – Anna stopped him and put her hand on his arm, who, for this, gave a little wave of surrender.
– Tell me.
– I got an email in July that brought my attention to a female blogger and her postings.

The man sighed, relieved:
– So you started to write your own blog, opening yourself up irresponsibly, because you were behind the mask of anonimity, but now you got caught. Somebody found out that the blog is written by a TV star, and the whole Hungarian tabloid scene is munching on your story – he dished it all in one breath. Anna tried to object, but Máté didn't let her speak. – Know what? Let's just move here, and ask for a refugee status, because at home your colleagues are hunting you...
– Shut up! – she placed a finger over his lips, trying to pacify him, but he just shoved it away with a nervous move.
– As a matter of fact, I would like to read it too, even though I suspect that I wouldn't completely enjoy every single page of it...

– Please listen to me! – she got louder. – It's bullshit! – she added a lot less securely, as she was actually writing a blog on another portal and she was actually panicked by the possibility of being discovered. She never told anyone about it, not even Máté. She showed too much of herself.

He sipped his wine pouting.
– Psychofairy is also in the community – she added after some silence.
Máté slammed his glass angrily on the table. The noise was so loud that the people sitting nearby rose their heads and got curious about the scene.
– You're meeting up with that drugged-up shithead? – the editor hissed from behind his teeth.
– No, we're not meeting up, I haven't even seen him, he only wrote me an e-mail or two, that's all.
Anna put her hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

– And anyways, he's not a druggie! – Anna was defending Psychofairy poutingly.
– If I recall correctly, the cops picked him up with a load of weed…
– To be exact, it was an insignificant amount, they didn't even press charges.
– I bet only because he incriminated his buddies!
– Don't be prejudicial! After all, whilst we're at topic, your so-beloved Orsi doesn't quite say no to drugs either – Anna burst out in jealousy.

– And where did you get that one from? Which "gossip magazine"?
Now it was Máté grabbing her shoulder. Anna was silent, so he shook her.
– Let me go!
The Parisians were watching them again, but since the wrestling was over, and they couldn't figure a word out of the odd-language argument, they started to enthusiastically discuss what they've just seen.

– So, how do you think that Orsi does drugs? – Máté asked in a low voice.
– If you really want to know, from the exact same person as you do!
He stared at Anna in surprise who added with a determined look:
– You bet I did a little interrogation with Szilvi. I know everything about that certain day…

The twenty-something redhead clinged to Máté at a bar a year ago, she wanted to be an intern in his office for any price. On the day Anna mentioned, Szilvi created the distraction Máté needed to sneak into the office of the programming director. His suspense was fulfilled. Hidden in the writing desk he found the solid evidence about the crimes of Márkus.

The night before Anna followed him to the Balaton, but - as it turned out later - a few miles off of the place where he was hiding Orsi, she lost him. She spent the rest of the night with her parents, whilst Máté was plotting the secret entry with the red demon.

Anna wasn't quite convinced about his explanation that he set a trap for Márkus with Szilvi and not with her because he was afraid of the programming director's possible repercussions. She visited Szilvi at her usual spot, got her drunk and then she promised her to get her in to Criminal News as a reporter if she tells her the story of all their meetings with Máté in detail. That's how Anna learned about the VIP group doing drugs at the bar called Big Boat. There were a few show hosts of Channel Three too. From Szilvi's description, Anna immediately recognized Orsolya Manner.

– But Szilvi didn't know anything about Orsi... – Máté was astonished.
– She found it out later. She really does have some guts! So it's your little Orsi a druggie, not Psychofairy. And I really haven't met him not a single time, not even when you were breaking arms and legs and leaving In The Line Of Fire in the pit as you ran to be the editor-in-chief for Snapshots when that pitting whore snapped her fingers.
– Stop it now! You know it very well that I only took that position because of the express wish of the CEO, because of the interest of the channel, so I can keep an eye on the hostess who got into some serious mental downhill.
– The question is, do you keep an eye on her in her bed too?
– You're unjust! – he yelled.
– And you're a hypocrite. You preach about honesty, but when I tell you something you don't want to hear, you immediately lunge at me.

Máté tried to riposte, but she didn't let him speak.
– Now can I finally tell you what is it all about?
The man kept pouting in silence.
– A woman is in deep trouble. She wrote a blog about her marriage, and now it has turned out that her husband was…

Máté's silence was apparently the silence before the storm that just broke out:
– I don't give a fuck about some whiny cunt, if until now you wanted to chat about it with Psychofairy, not with me.

Instead of answering him, Anna stood up and with determined steps she left off towards Rue Montmartre. A lonely, dark-haired man winked at her with a mischievous smile. If Máté's eyes could've killed, he would've dropped down dead. With wide gestured, the dark-haired man motioned to him that he knows exactly who is with whom, and that he was just joking. From another table, two older ladies were motioning to Máté too, urging him to go after Anna.
– It’s too complicated – he mumbled in English, as at the moment no French words came to his mind.
– No, it isn’t – one of them tried to encourage him. – Just do it! – she urged him.

Rue St Denis was way too close to them for a young and attractive woman to be walking around alone at this late hour, so he just tossed a fifty-euro bill on the table and left after Anna. Some people signed a V for him, another guy was popping his muscles, hence telling him to be hard. All in all, the French had an amusing time with the fighting foreign couple.

At Rue Montmartre there were still way enough people so that Máté could follow Anna around unseen. By Rue Réaumur she could still catch the green, but he had to wait through the line of cars. He lost sight of his girlfriend. He got tired of this hide-and-go-seek, he turned his cell phone on. He was just entering Anna's number as he got a text message. He wanted to just leave it there, but when he saw it came from Orsi, he read the message.
Please tell me it's a joke! Call me, I beg you!

He looked at the screen confused, then he called Orsi. It rang, but she didn't answer. He glanced at his watch, it was ten past ten. He called her home number, still nothing.
He deleted the message so Anna won't accidentally run into it, and he speeded up his steps.

*

Manner was sitting in the bathtub, so she couldn't hear the phone ringing. She got so knocked out on Friday that the next day she decided to give up drinking. She locked herself in her apartment. She was dying for a sip of rum, but when she thought of herself, how she woke up in her armchair, half naked, soiling herself, she even lost the will to drink. She knew the physical symptoms well, but she didn't know what to do with the pricks of conscience. She didn't go to the meeting, even though Máté would've needed her help. She kept calling him, but he never turned her phone on. That night she went to bed early, and even though she had to withstand the torments of hell, she stayed strong and didn't even take any pills either.

The next day she was even worse, but she muscled through. On Sunday she won over herself and her fears, and in the evening she went out to City Park. She didn't even know what use it would be of, looking around two days later, she was hoping for some kind of a sign from Máté. Before she got out of her car, she put a scarf over her blond hair and put on a fashionable pair of insect eye-like, huge sunglasses that hid half her face. She could barely see in the dark, but nobody would recognize her. Her heart was beating around two hundred when she reached the spot. She hid behind a giant tree as she looked around. Only a few dog-walkers.

She just wanted to run away, her body was all sweaty. She forced herself to step out from the protection of the tree. As she got to the center of the clearing, suddenly peace flowed through her body. She stopped ad listened. Then she even closed her eyes and let her thoughts roam free.

She heard a crack behind her back.
She spun around on her heels.
No matter how she was looking, she couldn't see anything suspicious.
Something cracked behind her.
She turned her head that way.
Nothing.
She took her glasses off, but she still couldn't see a thing.

She turned around another three or so times when she thought she heard scary noises. She knew it would be wisest to go back to her car before she completely panics, but she was just unable to leave the clearing.

– Are you all right? – a male voice boomed at her.
Her whole body was shaking, she couldn't answer.
– Are you sick? – the voice asked.
– Please don't hurt me! – breathed Orsi.
– Nah, I just want to help!
The man was heading towards Orsi, and she was backing off desperately.
The sixty-ish man stopped.
– Calm down, it's all right! – he smiled.

As if she woke up from a dream, Orsi was knocked back into reality. The person who scared her so much was a well-dressed, grey haired man, seemingly an intellectual, with clear, blue eyes. Around his legs, a medium-sized, black mutt was dashing around.

– Excuse me, don't we know each other from somewhere? – he asked, scanning her face.
– No, I don't think so – the hostess answered. She got used to everyone thinking they know her just because they see her on TV.
– Oh, I know! – he slapped his thighs in joy. – You're some news anchor for one of the TV channels.
– Oh, I just resemble her – she lied, puting her sunglasses back on.

– Nah, I can point your eyes out from a thousand, don't even cover them up with those glasses.
Orsi, instead of going on in denial as usual, now took off her glasses and smiled at the man.
– Thanks for the compliment!

Somehow she felt safe with the older man.
– Could you sign an autograph for my granddaughter? She adores you. She wants to study to be a news anchor too.
– Oh God NO! – she mumbled.
– Pardon me?
– Ah, nothing. Could you help me a little?
– At your service!
– Have you been here Friday walking your dog too?
– Yeah, I take him out every night.
– Around this time?
– It depends on what's on TV. Like, on Friday I was here quite a bit later.
– Around midnight? – asked excitedly Orsi.
– Around so.

She started to home she can find out something about the mysterious message. He asked if he has seen a man like Máté around.
– No. There was only a young couple lovin' each other around. And a forty-five-ish man was walking around, he even scared the girl. He was whistling around for his dog, but I never saw the animal anywhere.
– What did he look like? – Orsi asked.
– Well, I don't know, it was dark. He had that characterless face. Average. Neither tall nor short.
– Nothing specific about him? His hair, his clothes...?

The man sunk in his thoughts.
– I'm sorry – he opened his arms.
Orsi nodded sadly.
– Thanks anyways.
– Thank you for chatting with me. Where did you park your car? This area at night is not for pretty, lonely young ladies.

Orsi was surprised, how did he think she's by car, but she didn't ask. She didn't want to hear the stereotype that news anchors are all rich. The dog-lover accompanied her to the Audi. He got his autograph, and as a farewell, he advised her to be careful with those who call her to such dangerous places at night.

The hostess gave his words a thought.
– How? – she asked troubled, but by that time the man was gone, as if the earth had swallowed him.

Caught In A Net Of Lies

A more and more radical community was gathering around the blog. Many of them have been encouraging her to openly face off with the despotic husband.

NUPTIALS OF DEATH

If you haven't read the previous episode yet, click here

Anita was wide awake by 6am, even though it was well past 2am when she finally got to sleep. She felt the bed next to herself. Empty. She ran across the house, but her husband was still not at home. She finally gave up her pride and called his cell phone, but it was only the voicemail. She turned the radio on and started to make breakfast and coffee.

Five minutes before seven, her son stumbled out of his room with sleepy eyes.
– Sanyi? – he asked instead of a good-morning.
– Not yet at home.
– Did he go out of town somewhere?
– No... or well, I don't know, um, maybe, I think so – Anita stuttered.
– Normally you always know – said Romi with some reproach in his voice, and he marched off to the bathroom.

Throughout the morning Anita called her husband's cell phone several times, to no avail. She looked for him at the company too, but nobody answered the phone. If they had a bigger order coming in, Sándor would schedule people for Saturdays as well. She called the secretary too, but she didn't know anything about him either. They weren't working this weekend. Around eleven she finally reached the co-owner of the LLC, he was in Vienna, shopping with his family. He has last seen Sándor Friday morning, since then he tried to reach his cell phone several times, but to no avail still.
– Zsolt, do you think they will laugh at me at the police if I report he didn't come home? – asked Anita unsecurely.
– Why would they laugh at you? That's their job, to find him!
– They will just think he's at his mistress' place… – she bluffed.
– Why, does he have a mistress? – the business partner asked, maybe just a moment too slow.
– Don't tell me you don't know of it!
– Of what? – he asked back, now without a delay.
Anita was silent.
– Look, I know it hasn't been quite cool between the two of you lately, but all in all, Sanyi is not a bad guy. Best is if you just call the police.
– What did he tell you about us two?
– Not much. Something like that you just kind of cooled apart…
– Yeah, something like that, cooled apart – said Anita sarcastically.
– Now what the heck is wrong?
– Nothing, forget it. If he does contact you, make sure you call me immediately!
– But of course. You too, if you learn something!

Anita shared her plan with the bloggers too. Neither Psychofairy, nor saas have answered. She waited until the early afternoon hours, until then most have approved her idea about telling the police. A few minutes after two she dialed 112. (translator's note: 112 is the general emergency hotline in Hungary, similar to 911 in the US) The officer on duty tried to act empathetic, but in his voice Anita could almost hear a little male chauvinistic cynism.

The body was found by the security guard the next day, in the late afternoon. He was bored, so he decided to take a walk around the whole grounds. He noticed the collapsed fence. He went some closer and he could see the new, clean cut marks on the wire. He called his boss over the radio, and following the footsteps he headed to the rear warehouse building. He lost track on the concrete flooring. He looked through all the barrels, and in the first row all seemed untouched. He was always curious what those rusty old drums may hide, but his boss always said it's better for him not to ask around.

In the second row one lid was out of place. He went closer and noticed the knife too. Somebody stuck it through the rusty steel. A pungent odor was present. With an iron rod he knocked the lid off. As soon as he leaned over the barrel he started retching. A smoking, bloody mass of flesh was boiling at the bottom of the tank. The blade went through the wall of the barrel straight into his back, but there was a huge, gaping wound on his throat too.

One of the policemen arriving to the scene recalled a woman reporting the disappearance of her husband the previous day.
Early next morning the corpse was identified by his teeth.

*

Monday evening in Paris, around the beginning of Montorgueil street, Anna Somos, show host of Criminal News was drinking house bordeaux on the terrace of Bistrot de St Eustache when her cell phone notified her of a new text message.

The husband was murdered. Psychofairy

Máté Farkas went off to find the waiter about ten minutes before. Anna turned back and pressed her hand againt the window as she peeked in. Her lover was widely gesturing as he was explaining something to the waiter. He had an impossible talent for making long conversations with parisians on the fifty French words he spoke. And for the question what the heck can he be discussing with complete strangers, he usually gave a one-word answer accompanied by a mysterious little smile: Women. Or wine. Or cheese.

Anna keyed in the number from where the text came. Not available. Using that her mate was not around, she turned her PDA on. She got it from Máté for her birthday. He was fond of digital gadgets. At first she thought that one goes in the pile of useless gifts too, but when he taught her how can she connect to the internet from any point of the world, she slowly became an addict.

She immediately found a free wireless network, in Paris that wasn't a problem. After she ran through her e-mails, she went to the blog portal where a desperate wife was sharing her most intimate secrets and problems day by day, and with shocking honesty. Anna followed her blog regularly, and often, on a fake name, acting as a glorified warrior of women's rights, she commented on the entries.

The day before the blogger was horrified to tell that her aggressive husband suddenly disappeared without a trace. She was blaming herself for it, she thought her partner disappeared because of the blog. True, lately a more and more radical community has been gathering around the blog. Many of them were encouraging her to openly face off her despotic husband, to protect herself, even by violence, if so needed. Especially a person nicknamed Psychofairy was on the revolt side. It was exactly because of him that Anna never told Máté about her new passion.

A year ago, three TV show hostesses were brutally murdered, and one was kidnapped. Anna got into the investigation as a reporter for the show In the Line of Fire. A slightly over-aged college student from Pécs was giving psychic-mental advices to one of the victims under the name Psychofairy, that's how he got in the scope of suspense. Anna, together with Máté, who then was the editor-in-chief of In the Line of Fire, have found out his identity, and they even made an interview him, covering the purpose as a sociological study. Anna was really diggin' the guy. She loved her long black hair, tawny skin, harsh Balcanic profile, and she made no secret out of it. Máté was seriously jealous about the college "kid". The situation was further scrambled by the fact that this was the very trip to Pécs where Anna first slept with Máté. Psychofairy finally cleared himself of any charges, but the editor did not believe in his innocence at all.

Anna hasn't met the man a single time since the investigation was over. She almost forgot about him when he wrote her an e-mail a few months ago, mentioning the blog of this woman. They have exchanged a few mails, but it was always about the woman and her sufferings, never a word about themselves or them together. Even though nothing has happened between them, Máté would've felt horrible if he found out she has been e-mailing the man whom he's the most jealous of behind his back. So Anna just remained silent of the blog, Psychofairy and the humiliated woman.

She peeked in the window again. Máté was still conversing with the waiter. At the moment they were just patting each other's back.

Quickly she read through the newest entry of the blog. The husband never went home. His mutilated corpse was found at a lonely factory grounds. The poor woman was blaming herself for the death. She was desperately asking for some help from the blog community.

Anna, driven by a sudden idea, sent her a short message saying that it was her writing under the name saas, left her e-mail address and asked for the wife's phone number. She sent the message private, to keep her incognito throughout the rest of the community.

Just a minute later her e-mail arrived with the phone number.

*

The news of Sándor's death just knocked her out. It's different to imagine something than having to face it happened. The officers didn't tell her over the phone. They just asked her to go to the station as they have news about her husband's disappearance. She felt the trouble, she couldn't even hold back on the street, she arrived to the police station weeping. They sat her down and offered her some water.

– He's... dead, isn't he?
One of the officers was nodding sadly, but the other immediately asked back:
– Why do you think so, madam?
– This whole thing... the way you called me here... and the way you're looking at me... – Anita stuttered.
– My sincerest condolences, madam, your husband was murdered.

She has no recollection of the rest. They said something about the dentist IDing him, but she paid no attention to how they got to the doctor. She just kept repeating she wants to see the body, even thought the officers tried to dissuade her. They couldn't convince her, so they agreed that first she just takes a peek from afar, and she only goes closer to the autopsy table if she thinks she will be strong enough. She wasn't. As the pathologist took the sheet off the body, she fainted. On the table laid a shapeless, bloody mass of flesh, it didn't even resemble a human. What stroke her the hardest was recognizing the checked shirt she got him for Christmas the year before.

At home she tried to write the pain out, but this time not even the blog could bring her peace. She was anxious to get any advice in the comments, how to deal with such a huge pain. A few people dropped a line, but all of them were the usual, generic clichés.

She forced herself to get up from the computer and go to the bathroom so she can correct her makeup. Rómeó was just about to arrive. She didn't want him to be scared not just by the death announcement but also by the pitiful look of her mother. He was already psyched out by his father not returning all weekend. And that's when her phone rung.

– Maybe it's Sándor – it flashed through her brain, just like every single time her phone rung throughout the past two days. The pain just struck her with an unbearable force, she started crying again.

The caller ID gave her no number. A pleasant female voice was on the other end of the line. She was listening to the condolences numb, and she only rose her head when the voice told her she has been writing to her under the name saas. She was absolutely moved and started crying again when she introduced herself. Somehow everything suddenly seemed a lot easier this way. After all, it's the star of Criminal News who has been giving her advice. Her tongue set loose and all the questions that she never dared to even think up about the disappearance of her husband burst out of her.

to be continued next Thursday