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1.
Nothing about the death seemed violent, so there was no reason for an
investigation. But the owner of the Papyrus Bookstore panicked. No one
had yet lost their life in her store. She called the police as well as
an ambulance.
I got there at the same time as the ambulance. While the doctor went
about his work, I stood to one side and looked around the bookstore. I
hadn’t been there before. You could tell by the details that the place
had character. The potted plants were well cared for, the decorations on
the mantelpiece above the small fireplace were nicely arranged and there
was no sign of the dust that inevitably goes along with books.
“There’s nothing for you here, Inspector Lukić,” said the doctor, taking
off his plastic gloves. “It was a natural death. Heart failure most
likely. We’ll know more after the autopsy. Whatever it was, it probably
happened in his sleep. All you can do is envy him.” He chuckled softly.
“He’ll never even know he died.”
“What was the time of death?”
“Sometime between five and six. The old man had been sitting here dead
for at least two hours and no one even noticed. It’s a heartless world
we live in.”
“So it seems,” I said and moved aside to let the orderlies pass with a
stretcher carrying the body under a green sheet.
The doctor nodded. “I’ll see you next time, Inspector, when the
circumstances are more exciting.”
Once we were alone in the bookstore, I approached the owner. She was a
willowy woman with long red hair and a freckled face. There was a
youthful air about her, but she was probably close to thirty-five. She
was dressed in a dark blue tweed suit with a matching blouse of a
lighter shade. Narrow reading glasses hung from a ribbon around her
neck. Standing in front of the cash register counter, she didn’t know
what to do with her hands, which is often the case with people who can’t
hide their anxiety.
I held out my hand to take her mind off the dilemma if only for a
moment.
“Inspector Dejan Lukić. Good evening.”
“I’ve had better evenings. Vera Gavrilović, owner of the Papyrus.” She
paused and then added almost reluctantly, “Miss.”
“Would you like to sit down?” I asked.
“No, thank you. I’m fine like this.”
“Have you ever seen a dead person before?”
She looked at me for a few moments in silence, then shook her head
briefly.
“It’s always a shock the first time. Particularly if the deceased is not
a stranger. Did you know him?”
“I don’t remember seeing him before. But lots of people come here. I
can’t remember them all.”
“If it’s any consolation, it doesn’t get any easier even when you’re
used to seeing the dead.”
“I don’t suppose I’ll have to get used to it.”
“I think that’s a safe bet. A bookstore is the last place one would
expect to find a dead body. This is the first case I’ve heard of.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Would you mind telling me what happened?”
Miss Gavrilović sighed deeply before she began.
“Just like I do every night, a little bit before eight I announced that
the store was about to close. Some people headed for the cash register
with the books they wanted to buy and the rest went out the door. It
wasn’t until the last customer left that I realized I wasn’t alone.”
She turned to the right towards an armchair upholstered in worn-out
dark-green plush. Three more like it were placed in the other corners of
the bookstore.
“The old man’s head was bowed over the book in his lap. He seemed to be
reading, but I had a notion he was asleep. There’s nothing unusual about
that. Some people come here in winter, mostly to get warm. They take a
book, settle into an armchair and stay there until closing time. Most of
them actually do read, but some, particularly the elderly, soon nod off.
I don’t mind as long as they don’t snore.”
She shrugged her shoulders as though exonerating herself.
“I went up to the armchair and told him that we were closing, but he
didn’t move. I said it again in a louder voice, then put my hand on his
shoulder to shake him a little. His body just tilted to the side...”
I nodded my head. “Disagreeable, I know. But the worst is over.”
“Is it?”
I looked at her questioningly. “What do you mean?”
“If the word gets out, our customers might start to give us a wide
berth. Death isn’t the best recommendation for a bookstore.”
“There’s no reason for this to get out. It was a natural death, not a
crime. It could have happened to the poor old man anywhere. It happens
almost every day. No one will take any notice.” I smiled, then repeated
the words I’d heard not long before. “It’s a heartless world we live
in.”
The bookstore owner sighed once again.
I took a look around.
“You have a nice bookstore. I would have preferred not to come on
business.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have many books that would interest a police
inspector. The books we sell are mostly serious literature.”
“Then you sell what interests this police inspector.”
“Really?”
“My degree is in literature.”
“And you went to work for the police?”
“I went to work where there was a job. Being well-versed in literature
wasn’t a handicap. On the contrary, it’s often helped me.”
“Detective novels? But they aren’t really serious literature.”
“Would you call Crime and Punishment or The Name of the Rose light
literature?”
“No, of course not. But I wouldn’t categorize them with detective
stories either.”
“Nevertheless, they can be read like one.”
“I suppose so. Let’s not go into the complex issues of literature right
now, it’s not the right time. I’ll be more than happy to exchange
thoughts with you on such topics if you come another time.
Unofficially.”
“With pleasure.” My eyes swept over the tall shelves filled with books
once again. “Good bye, Miss Gavrilović.”
“Good bye, Inspector.”
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