Polychrome by Joanna Jodelka

want to but unfortunately I have to suspect
something. It’s the windows again.’
He didn’t say anything but his face must have taken on a
peculiar expression.
‘Washing the windows this time,’ she added. ‘I didn’t
immediately remember about Mrs Krystyna,’ she continued.
‘Mrs Krystyna used to clean my office for a couple of years,
and a few other local offices too, as far as I know. I had mixed
feelings about her. Not her, perhaps, but the situation, to be
exact. She was a good worker. You hardly saw her but could
immediately see when she hadn’t been. My best employee, all
in all, except that she often asked to be paid in advance. She later
admitted, she needed the money to pay lawyers for her sons
who were always where they shouldn’t be, not from any fault of
their own, of course – they were good lads, it wasn’t their fault
and so on. I felt sorry for her. They are her children, after all,
but, on the other hand, the computers were mine. Not that she
was going to steal them, you understand, it’s not that, but she
might have moaned about the cleaning, how hard it was with
all those cables, all that equipment, or something like that. The
problem resolved itself a year ago. The place was undergoing
lengthy refurbishment and Mrs Krystyna wasn’t needed. I was
to phone her when it was finished but didn’t – nor did she
phone me. I hire through a cleaning agency now and don’t ask
about children anymore.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I’m telling
you all this so you don’t jump in with accusations. She’s a good
woman and I’ve never suspected her of anything. But I do know
that Mrs Krystyna washed Mr Mikulski’s windows and that she
has the sons she has.’
‘Did she wash the windows when Mrs Mikulska was still
alive?’
‘Yes. Probably for about a year before she died. I remember
her telling me that poor Mrs Mikulska had broken her leg
washing those windows and it wasn’t healing. It turned out
that it wasn’t ever going to heal because she had some sort of
cancer. She grumbled something about the same thing being in
store for her because she’d almost fallen off a ladder, but better
that she fell than the old man because who would look after
him – that’s the way it is when you don’t have children.’ She
broke off for a moment. ‘We even talked about the Mikulskis a
little. I won’t say I didn’t think about those antiques and those
children which it’s good to have, the same as I’d thought about
my computers, but I didn’t say anything at the time.’ Again she
paused briefly. ‘Tell me, please, was it a burglary?’
‘We really can’t say or exclude anything at the moment,
although there aren’t any traces of a typical murder involving
burglary or assault.’
‘Thank God,’ she sighed with relief.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I saw one of Mrs Krystyna’s sons once, standing with his
mother. I only glimpsed him from the car window, but it was
enough for me to assess him as being capable – in the worst
scenario – of something typical and maybe also some sort of
primitive rape.’
‘We have to check it out anyway. Do you remember her
surname?’
‘Yes, Bończak. She lived in Rybaki. Please don’t say you
learned this from me. It’s unfair on Mrs Krystyna. She was a
hard worker and I’ve no reason to suspect her. I’m contradicting
myself but…’
He didn’t allow her to finish.
‘I don’t think there’ll be any such need. Would you like to
add anything?’ He very much wanted her to add something;
he was in no hurry to take the next step which awaited him.
‘No, I can’t recall anything else at the moment.’
‘Did you know Mr and Mrs Mikulski’s son?’
‘I saw him a couple of times.’ Bartol had the impression the
question embarrassed her. He decided to continue along this path.
‘And when was the last time?’
‘About ten years ago.’
‘Was he at his mother’s funeral?’
‘I don’t think