"I realized what this must look like to someone who didn't know Robert and had no idea of the customs of our marriage," I explained, once I'd managed to control my mirth.
"So, is there anything you know about your husband?" they asked helplessly.
"One thing. He was the embodiment of law and order and the epitome of civic virtue."
This information was completely at odds with their expectations. But what could I do? They left me dissatisfied. In their shoes, I would certainly have felt the same way.
My marriage was very specific. I knew only what Robert told me. I wasn't to ask questions, not to require his presence at home, not to call during working hours, not to mention visiting him at work. How did I bear it?
I hoped the funeral would be the final unpleasant note of my ending vacation. I even bought an elegant wardrobe for the occasion. My mother-in-law prepared the wake, so I didn't have to worry about anything. I didn't even have to be there, because I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
The cemetery was packed with people. I didn't know half of them. I was most intrigued by four men standing off to the side. They all wore black suits and dark glasses that obscured half their faces.
At first, I thought they were someone from the company. Some CEO with security, or something like that. I tried to figure out Robert's position, but nothing more important came to mind. Slowly, it dawned on me that he was practically a stranger to me.
After everyone had offered their condolences and expressed their sympathy and left the cemetery, I sat on a bench by the adjacent grave and buried my face in my hands. That day definitively marked the end of another chapter in my life.
I looked up in surprise when the man in the black suit announced his presence.
"Your husband was a wonderful man, this is a huge loss for all of us," he said in a tone that was far from sincere.
"What's the matter?" I asked dryly.
"Please don't be upset. I think we can talk in a more pleasant setting, right?"
I couldn't refuse him. I was sure the three men keeping a safe distance had weapons hidden under their suits. It slowly dawned on me who they were. But what could they possibly want from Robert, who was the embodiment of law and order?
Half an hour later, I was sitting with Mr. Kraus, as he'd introduced himself, in an elegant restaurant, sipping iced coffee. Two of his bodyguards occupied the next table, while the third remained in his car. I felt strangely trapped.
"I regret that we are meeting under such unpleasant circumstances, but my business requires it. Your husband owed money. It is a sum I cannot ignore. I am counting on your cooperation.
" "I don't understand anything. Robert would never do business with someone like you." My outrage was as genuine as his laughter.
"Not only did he do it, but he also started running it himself. In other words, he started stealing from me. You should, for your own good, make it easier for me to get that money back. Judging by your reaction, you have no idea it exists. I advise you to start with the will. Your esteemed husband certainly left such a document," he said in a tone I didn't like. He knew much more than he was saying, and it was clearly amusing him. "We'll see each other again. Goodbye."
He paid the bill, bowed to me, and left. I ate my Wuzetka, finished my coffee, and took a detour back to my place. My car hadn't exploded, and the door to my apartment hadn't been forced open, so I felt safe. While I didn't know what danger I might face, I was certain it existed.
I stripped off my mourning clothes, removed my makeup, and sat down in the armchair. I was exhausted. I tried to accept that Robert was collaborating with the mafia. Running shady deals didn't fit the image I was familiar with.
I fell asleep thinking I'd been deceived for four years of marriage. In the morning, superhuman strength took hold of me. I drank coffee, discarded my sentimental feelings, and, ready for anything, set out to search for a hypothetical will.
Since I was unfamiliar with all legal and bureaucratic customs, I did a lot of idiotic things, wasting a lot of time and energy. In my case, simple and logical solutions were out of the question. By the most circuitous of paths, I finally reached the presence of Attorney Wieluń.
As a widow, I gained access to a document that actually existed. However, I quickly regretted it. My husband's entire estate, which consisted of a car, fields and an orchard, stocks and bonds, and several bank accounts I had no idea existed, was destined for Jarosław Rekliński, his only son.
The attorney wasn't authorized to provide me with further information, so I had to leave his office and, in a state of prolonged shock, head for an unknown destination.
Fortunately, I didn't manage to get hit by a car or end my miserable existence in any other spectacular way. Somehow, I made it to an ice cream shop, where I ordered an iced coffee and a huge scoop of ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate sauce.
My mind was in a muddle, so no logical conclusions were accessible to me. Taking the unusually circuitous route home, I realized that the man I considered the epitome of law and order, a man without a stain on his honor, had turned out to be a complete scoundrel, a cheater, and a criminal to boot.
For four years, I treated him like a god on a pedestal, daring not say a word that might wound his pride. I was at his beck and call, telling everyone that my husband was the most wonderful man in the world. Was I blind and stupid!?
He cheated on me and had a son with another woman. He didn't hesitate to leave him his entire fortune. He did business with the mafia and was clever enough to stuff the mafia's money into several accounts. After his death, I didn't receive any, even worse, and I had to pay off his debts. I was the idiot of the year. Furious, too.
I burst into the apartment, furious as a hornet, and didn't even notice the door was open. Only the sight of a strange man sitting in the living room brought me back to reality.
"What are you doing here?! How dare you?! I'll call the police!
" "Don't get upset. Sit down and calm down. I see the reading of the will didn't do you much good. She should have something stronger to calm her nerves. Do you have any alcohol here?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he began to rummage through the cabinets.
I drank a glass of cognac without hesitation. Meanwhile, my guest was having a wonderful time. I had no doubt he was one of Mr. Kraus's men. He wasn't wearing a black suit, but dark glasses were on the table. It was also impossible to miss the gun.
He spoke with a foreign accent, probably German. He had shoulder-length black hair and the look of a ruthless killer. His ironic smile infuriated me.
"I've come with a proposition. You'll file a motion to overturn the will. Our lawyers will handle everything, and you'll surely win. Then we'll take your money and you can forget about us.
" "How did you know about the will, and what am I supposed to get out of it?
" "We have our sources. Besides, now that you know what a genius your husband was, you're not going to let that money go to his illegitimate child, are you? You're not losing anything, and you could be gaining. We're offering you five percent of the total sum for your moral damages.
" "Are you kidding me?" I didn't know how to address him; I was furious and fed up with the mafia.
I downed another glass of cognac. The stranger looked at me with interest.
"You're quite pretty." It would be a shame to lose that face. Think again. You agree, you get the money. You refuse, we'll get what we want anyway, and you could lose your health," he said in a completely dispassionate voice. I was starting to get scared.
"Are you threatening me?" I laughed nervously. "I won't work with the mafia. Get out. Get out!" I repeated, screaming hysterically.
"You'll be asking me to stay again," he said brazenly. "You have two days to think about it."
When he left, I locked the door. I considered putting something on it, but in the end I decided against it. I drank another glass of cognac and went to bed.
At work, I couldn't concentrate on anything. I kept thinking about what I'd heard yesterday. These people don't mince their words. What if I agreed to their terms? I was certain they wouldn't leave me alone. Once I fell into the mafia's clutches, there was no turning back. Let them get the money without my cooperation.
I considered going to the police, but what could they do? I bet they'd tell me not to cooperate and leave the rest to them. But the rest would be so bad that the mafia would eventually kill me, leaving the police with nothing. I settled for changing the locks on the doors.
All I could do was wait and hope that the whole situation would somehow work out.
When I returned from work the next day, the doors were locked and the apartment was empty. I breathed a sigh of relief. I changed my clothes, drank some coffee, and sat in front of the TV. Every time I heard footsteps on the staircase, my heart started pounding.
Only when I heard the knock did it occur to me that I should leave, not wait like a victim for the executioner. But it was too late for such far-fetched ideas. I didn't go to open the door; it proved unnecessary anyway. The clatter of a key in the lock proved that there were no insurmountable obstacles for them.
"That wasn't a very pleasant welcome," the same stranger from two days ago said mockingly. "I have some papers to sign. I hope you won't refuse.
" "I will," I replied calmly and decisively. "I don't agree to these terms, or any terms at all."
His eyes flashed with fury.
"You'll regret this," he said in a grave voice.
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