Belgrade Noir

They called her Gigi, nobody knew why. Nicknames don’t always have rational explanations. She was between fifteen and eighteen — it was hard to say. Somewhere along the way I’d lost my sense of youth. Didn’t matter, she was far too young to be shouting at the elderly.

All the girls she dragged along with her wore torn jeans and baseball hats. They all carried phones and beer cans in their hands even though it was only two p.m. (since they were probably underage, the time of day was, in fact, a moot point). One of them rolled a spray can between her fingers

Gigi stepped up onto our table, kicked over our chess pieces, and climbed down on the other side as if walking across a pedestrian bridge. “Mom and Dad think I’m in a gang, the school thinks I’m in a gang, the police think I’m in a gang.” She was virtually growling at Kozma. “All because of you.”

She swung her arm but only tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Kozma twitched and closed his eyes anyway.

I stood up. “Now that’s enough.”

“Shut up, Grandpa. You’ll get yours too. Being tall won’t save you.”

I remained standing and the moment passed. The aggression fizzled out of her. She seemed to realize it too.

“I’m watching you,” she said, backing away. “If I see you after dark, you’ll be sorry.”

We watched them go. The last one gave us the finger as they disappeared toward the river. I turned to Kozma, who squatted down to collect the pieces.

“Almost getting beat up by little girls doesn’t bother you?” I asked, while he stood up and started arranging the pieces. “Are you dragging me into one of your failed projects again?”

“So, you want to do it?” he asked quietly.

I sighed. “What have you come up with now?”

“It’s not like with the girls, Ranko, I swear. This one’s the real deal. I think he’s killing women. New ones come to him twice a week, but no one ever sees them leave. They come in, they don’t come out. I’m worried. Why are you looking at me like that? Here, you can be white this time.”

In his former life, Kozma was a policeman. During his career he sat in an office, a pencil pusher. Maybe that was the problem: too much paperwork, too few actual cases.

So his retirement hobby was quite different than mine. He wanted to solve a case for once in his life, to see how it felt. That desire was stronger than any realistic possibility of him actually succeeding, and it was certainly against the law. Officially he did not represent any authority in any capacity anymore.

And he had already made some blunders. Because he reported their daughter to the cops, Gigi’s parents were even more unpleasant to us than she was, if that’s possible. Kozma’s former colleagues had to warn him on several occasions, and they even threatened me. They asked what I was doing the whole day instead of keeping him on a short leash.

But Kozma was my best friend and my first neighbor. You don’t say no to either.

After our second chess game — Kozma won both — I reluctantly looked up when Kozma whispered, “Here he comes.”

He pointed to a balcony on the fourth floor where a pale young man wearing John Lennon glasses stood. He scowled at the yard below, his gaze not reaching our park, flicked a cigarette butt into the air, and went back inside.

“What do you say?” Kozma asked.

“He doesn’t look like trouble, if that’s what you mean. Or crazy. If you’re so sure, why don’t you report him?”

“He could be innocent.”

“Ah. You’re not so sure then.”

Kozma smiled. “But what if the police don’t find anything? He’ll become cautious, and then they’ll never catch him.”

“How do you even know women don’t leave his apartment? They might just sleep over and leave later.”

He made a circle around his eye with his thumb and index finger.

“You look through a spyhole? The whole night? You’re crazy, not him.” I shook my head. “What do you think he does with them if they don’t come out?”

He started sawing his forearm with the side of his palm.

“And stuffs their arms and legs into suitcases? C’mon! How come no one sees him removing the suitcases?”

“From now on we’ll be watching for that too. That’s why I need you.”

Glancing impatiently down at the board, I noticed Kozma’s rare oversight. I had an open passage to his queen, and after that his king was for the taking too.

“So, you have a plan?” I asked, mostly to divert his attention, and moved my knight. He seemed not to notice the threat since he responded with a pawn. His queen was mine.

“A new one is coming tonight, first time this week.” He looked at his wristwatch. “Speaking of which, we have to go. I’m taking the first shift.”

He stood up and started packing away the pieces, and with them the triumph within my reach. I sadly watched him close the wooden box and put it under his arm. He marched off not bothering to check if I followed.

I did follow. What else could I do?

We went around the building to the front entrance. We both lived on the ground floor, my apartment next to his.