43
I found the house with surprising ease. It was early morning, and the sky had begun to turn red and purple. Surrounded by tall tulips, the house looked much more eerie in the dim light of dawn. The dark sky created the illusion that all the flowers were dead.
I didn”t even have to knock on the door.
Drago Krivec was sitting on the porch, wrapped in a warm plaid blanket and ceremoniously smoking a pipe.
“Welcome,” he greeted me calmly, in perfect Spanish. “I knew you would come back sooner or later.”
“So you speak Spanish.”
I buttoned up in my jacket, which was too thin for such early hours.
“How is the search for your inheritance going? Did you find what you wanted?” asked the old man, opening the front door. “Come into the living room. You look cold.”
The room was still dim and cluttered, and the moment I entered, I felt short of breath.
“That”s precisely why I”m here. None of your clues were of any use at all. I get the feeling that you deliberately tried to steer me off the right path. And before I leave, I”d like to know why. Did I do something to you? Did I upset you in some way? Or do you know more than you wanted to tell me and were afraid I”d find out?”
“Oh, Vesna...” The old man leaned back in an armchair, picked up a book from the floor, and began to leaf through it as if I wasn”t there.
“Look at me, please,” I shouted, “Am I right or not? I just want to know the truth. Tomorrow, I”m leaving this country for good. But I’d like to know what you’re hiding from me so that I can close this chapter for good.”
“I don”t know what you”re talking about, child. I don”t know anyone else in your family. I can swear to that right now. On the Bible, if you want.”
His smile made it clear that he didn’t believe much in the Holy Scriptures.
“I don”t give a damn about your oaths. I just want you to tell me if you knew about the violin and kept it from me on purpose.”
The deepening wrinkles on his forehead betrayed everything he wasn’t saying.
“That was it!” I exclaimed triumphantly. “You knew, but you didn”t tell me. Why? Did you want it for yourself?”
“No, but I saw that you were only interested in one thing. Your motives were dishonest. I didn”t like your attitude.”
“Well, don”t worry. I just talked to my friend in Valencia, and the violin is gone forever. You no longer have to worry about me and my dishonest attitude. If you had told me earlier, this could have been avoided. But now it”s too late, and it”s all your fault.”
Drago was silent, measuring his words.
“My fault, you say?”
“Yes! You knew! You could have told me that day, but you didn”t! You can find lost things. The pendulum told you where it was. But you decided to give me a false clue. But why? Why, you self-centered old fool?”
“Manners, my dear,” he admonished me, rising from his chair. “You should respect your elders. It”s not my fault your Prince Charming suddenly became human.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do you really think I don’t know what’s going on? You show up at my house alone in the middle of the night, boiling with rage in a car that isn”t yours, and suddenly, I”m the one who”s been keeping things from you. What about him? Would you be here if he hadn”t let you down?”
I kept silent, dumbfounded. What was the old man trying to tell me?
“What do you know about Max?”
“What do you want to know about Max?”
“He’s married, isn’t he?”
“Possibly.”
“I’ve been so stupid.”
“It”s none of my business to make excuses for him; I just say what I see. And sometimes my gift forces me to see more than I’d like to.”
“What about my ancestors? Do you know anything about them or not?”
“I know just one thing, but I doubt you want to know what it is.”
“I”ve been wandering around this damn country for a week, trying to track them down. I”ve spent all my savings on finding that damn inheritance, which turned out to be in Spain, and now it”s lost forever. And you”re asking me if I really want to know? You have a very curious sense of humor, Sir.”
“I know something about your father. But it”s not pleasant to hear.”
“My father has been dead for two decades, which isn’t very pleasant either.”
“What would you say if I told you that your father is a murderer?”
“My father is a what?” I got up from the sofa, stumbling and knocking over a pile of magazines. That was the last thing I needed to hear. “My father died in a fight with his best friend when I was just a child. I don”t know what the hell all this nonsense about him being a murderer is, Mr. Krivec.”
“Why don’t you call me Martin, dear?”
“I thought your name was Drago.”
“Oh yes. That was before I became a fugitive.”
His tone of voice, at first calm, was becoming tense as he spoke.
“Stop making fun of me! Stop it! It’s not funny!”
“Funny? Funny?“ he shouted to make himself heard over me. “Your father is a monster, a murderer, a thief!”
He reached into his pocket and tossed me a small object hanging from a string. I caught it with one hand. It was the peg-shaped pendant, the one that had disappeared from my room at the hostel.
“You wanted to find your father,” bellowed the old man and opened his arms wide. “Well, here he is! Your father, a fugitive from the law, has been hiding under a false name for decades! Wasn”t it better when you had a dead father?”
“You”re crazy,” I screamed, covering my ears as I strode out of the room.
I pushed past the depressing piles of junk that cluttered the living room and ran to the car. I left that house, Ljubljana, and Slovenia behind, determined never to set foot in this country as long as I lived.