Invisible Murder Read Online Free Page A

letters. It would seem that the family in Room 42 had asked for a doctor or a nurse to stop by.
    She checked her watch again. 4:07 P.M . She had promised to buy Anton new soccer shoes on the way home. But if she scrapped any idea of catchingup on her paperwork today, she could just fit in this one visit. She remembered Room 42 quite clearly. The family had arrived from Iran three months ago—the mother was a doctor herself, but at the Coal-House Camp that meant nothing. The past was erased, along with any pretense at skill, confidence, and independence. Nina had seen it happen many times before. Eventually, people could barely tie their own shoelaces.
    The door to Room 42 was already ajar when she got there. A loud game show was flickering from the farthest corner of the dark room. Two pre-teens were glued to the screen, but the mother was sitting on the edge of the family’s bed, stroking her husband’s forehead. She looked up with a worried frown when she saw Nina standing in the doorway.
    “Headache again,” she said, pointing at her husband who was lying down with his eyes closed, panting dramatically. “I think maybe meningitis.”
    Nina pulled a chair over next to the husband and placed a hand on his forehead. Still no fever. The man’s wife had also summoned her the week before. That time she thought it was a brain tumor, but Magnus had said it was more likely a migraine.
    Nina shook her head and cautiously took the woman’s hand. “It’s nothing serious. Please, don’t worry.”
    The woman shook her head skeptically.
    “Do you have the pills the doctor gave you? Did you take them?” Nina asked.
    “Yes,” the man mumbled despondently. “I take them.”
    Nina sat there for a bit. She could get a new job, she thought suddenly. A job that didn’t make her feel the way she felt right now. Mortal fear. That was what was wrong with him. Chronic anxiety that was turning into permanent state of panic. How could she be expected to treat that with a few platitudes and a couple of aspirins? It was wrong. No, it was more than wrong—it was reprehensible.
    Nina forced a reassuring smile. “See you tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry. Everything is just fine.”
    The woman didn’t respond, and Nina knew perfectly well why not. Her husband probably didn’t have meningitis, but apart from that, nothing was fine, or even remotely okay. While Nina went to buy soccer shoes for her son, night would soon be falling over the Coal-House Camp.
    Nina tilted her head in a nod and shut the door a little too firmly behind her as she left.

 
    HEN THEY ASKED to be driven to Tavaszmezö Street in Budapest’s Eighth District, the cab driver locked all the doors. Sándor could clearly hear the click, and he noticed the look the driver flashed him in the rearview mirror—questioning, sizing him up. Good thing Lujza was with him. In spite of her penchant for weird shawls and flea-market finds—Boho chic, she called it—there was a down-to-earth, Hungarian middle-class respectability in her mousy-haired genes and sit-up-straight manners. For his part, even though he tied a perfect knot in his tie, polished his shoes, and ironed his shirts immaculately, somehow there would always be a question mark hanging over him: the doubt that he saw in the cab driver’s eyes.
    “Good thing you’re here,” he said aloud. But on the other hand, if it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t be sitting here. He never took cabs.
    She looked at him in surprise—probably hadn’t even noticed the doors being locked and the driver’s suspicious looks.
    “Why?” she asked.
    He gave up without explaining. “It’s just nice,” he said.
    She smiled, taking that as another compliment. “You’re sweet,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.
    They had been to a baptism—Lujza’s elder sister’s little boy, her parents’ first grandchild.
    It was also the first time Sándor officially met the Szabó family. His nerves were still on edge, although it