The Gypsy Trail

Anna glanced at the screen of her ringing phone. The number appeared quite unfamiliar. Yet she tapped a button and quietly responded:

“Hel-lo.”

There was no reply. Anna repeated:

“Hello…”

And again:

“Hello!”

She could clearly hear the sound of breathing. Someone was at the other end, but would not answer. Anna shrugged, putting the phone down on the table; perhaps it was a wrong number, or else a bad line, and in that case they'd call again to tell her what they want. Things happen.

She waited a couple of minutes, but the phone did not bother her again. “Wrong number so,” she concluded aloud as she returned to her own thoughts. And she had quite enough serious material for those.

Anna was sitting in the kitchen. Just before the phone rang, she poured herself some coffee. Its smell tickled her nostrils pleasantly. Now she picked up the cup and had a sip, then another, concentrating. She had to decide where to start the great cleanup.

The house, of course, was quite clean as it was; Anna swept, wiped, vacuumed every day. Yet she did it quickly, in haste, so she could squeeze her other chores in as well. Now it was time to go over the apartment in a proper disposition.

She raised her eyes to the ceiling: some quick-witted spiders might have sneaked in with their webs. Glanced over the walls: children, caught up in their play, might have spilled something on them or smeared them with carelessly dirty hands. Lowered her gaze to the floor: her husband was sure to forget to wipe his feet at the entrance, bringing in an oil stain or a piece of chewing gum from the street on his shoes. Then she remembered the high shelves in the entrance hall; these needed urgent sorting. This September was amazingly warm and sunny, and yet the winter was closer every day. She had to get the warm clothes, the ice skates, the kids' hockey clubs, and to throw the summer fun in instead: the roller skates, the badminton, the fishing rods, football, volleyball…

It was a very fitting day for “clearing the rubble”. The husband has gone off to work. When he kissed Anna, he apologized:

“My dear, I'll be delayed today: we have to finish a report. Have a good time!”

She shrugged quietly; work is work. So she gave him a peck in response:

“No worries. Have a nice day, good luck!”

“And to you too… with your great cleanup,” he took some time pondering his answer.

Right after the husband, the son and daughter left for school:

“Bye, Mom!”

“Bye, Mom!”

“Don't forget to have your lunches!”

“Yup!… Won't!” a shouted response rang from the stairway.

Last evening it was agreed that after school the children would go to the actively retired granny living in the next block and stay for the night, not showing up at home before tomorrow. So Anna had a lot of time on her hands, with nobody distracting her from her extremely important task. There was, in fact, enough time to complete the great cleanup and cook supper before her husband was due back from work.

Anna had another sip of the coffee and decided, definitely, to start with the high shelves. She stood up briskly, but did not get to do anything, as there was a new ring, this time from the door. Anna was not really surprised; children would often return from halfway to school after forgetting something. The friendly neighbour lady could also drop in for salt or some other trinket. Just to be sure, she looked through the judas hole, only to see, not her husband, children or neighbour, but a completely unfamiliar face.

Sooty skin. Under wide dark eyebrows, a pair of black eyes, their piercing gaze centred on the judas hole. Large lips, appearing to be saying something. Anna turned her head to listen. Sadly, she could not hear anything through the strong wooden door. She looked through the hole again, at the moving lips, the black eyes… and, without knowing why, opened the door.

A gypsy woman was standing on the threshold. A long motley skirt, a flowery kerchief over shoulder-length black hair. A constant murmur was coming off the gypsy's lips.

Anna listened carefully again, to find out what this sudden guest needed. The guest just went on and on moving her lips incessantly. At first Anna thought the gypsy might be speaking in her own incomprehensible language or even spitting out random meaningless sounds. Yet, gradually she could recognize some words among the mumbo jumbo. Some very familiar words: “gold”… “silver”… “money”… These words were repeated again and again:

“Gold… silver…money…gold…silver…money…”

Now understanding what the woman wanted, Anna threw the door wide open, inviting her into the apartment. The guest quietly slipped through the entrance hall, entered the living room, stopped in its centre, looking around. Her gaze slid over wardrobes, a sideboard, a console mirror with drawers and jewellery boxes. Then the gypsy turned to Anna, who finally caught up with her. Off the lips of the guest, the same incomprehensible sounds still came, along with three clear words:

“Gold… silver…money…gold…silver…money…”

With a docile nod, Anna dashed to the console mirror. Out of a drawer, she fished a little box containing small gold ear-rings with real emeralds. These were a heirloom from her mother, who got them in turn from her own mother. Anna wanted to give them to her daughter when her time would come to marry. But now, without thinking, she was shaking expensive jewellery out onto the mirror table. Out of the boxes, she scratched a few gold and silver rings, chains, brooches, bracelets. She pulled out the necklace of real large pearls with yellow precious metal insets, her husband's gift for the ten year anniversary of their life together. Then, after pondering a little, she pulled the wedding ring off her finger. Ran to the children's room to bring the small silver ring that she presented to her daughter on her recent birthday.

Thinking some more, Anna shook her head:

“There is no more gold and silver in the home…” Looking at the gypsy, who continued to mutter with her lips, Anna flung her arms up. “Money!”

She and her husband were planning to purchase a new washing machine, so there was a decent sum in the wardrobe under the bedding. Anna grabbed all the notes, placing them carefully on the console mirror table next to the gold and silver. Then she opened her own purse, removing every coin:

“Nothing more.”

The gypsy nodded and tentatively stepped towards the mirror. Suddenly she stopped upon hearing a noise in the entrance hall: creaking of the door, speech, patter. In another moment, three tall men stormed into the living room. One of them, the eldest, was wearing a regular suit; the two younger ones were uniformed and sported machine guns on their shoulders.

“Hands up! Police!”

Anna raised her hands obediently. Her guest did not follow suit. Instead, the gypsy circled a contemptuous eye over the intruders and started mumbling again. Other words were coming off her lips this time. Anna did not understand them, but for the invaders, the meaning was apparently clear. First the cops froze in place, then exchanged glances and started to rummage their pockets. Onto the mirror table, next to Anna's valuables, they laid out their money, car keys, condoms and even police badges. Then the law enforcement officers turned out their pockets, showing that they have nothing more.

It seemed to Anna that the gypsy's lips formed something approaching a smile. The unwelcome guest, while keeping on mumbling something, started clapping her hands in a rhythm: one, two, three… one, two, three…

The cops exchanged glances again. The elder one undid the buttons on his civilian jacket, spit briefly on his hands, touched his scarce light hair and then suddenly broke into a squat dance. He was, as it quickly turned out, no good at dancing, but still he dutifully threw his left foot and then right foot forward, shaking his sizeable belly that tended to break out of the trouser belt. The other two, with their machine guns, cheered him on, slapping their hands along with the gypsy and singing some folk song out of key.

The policeman, being of a relatively advanced age as well a completely civilian look, was out of his breath in a short time. Finally he failed to throw a foot out again, clutched his shaking belly and stood up:

“I can't go on! Even if you were to kill me, I just can't…”

Catching his breath, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping sweat off his forehead. Meanwhile, the gypsy gazed at another policeman, a uniformed man with an officer's badge. As if following an order, he handed his machine gun to the man with a sergeant's badge, glimpsed at Anna with a green eye and, throwing his arms open, started a sailor's jig. He obviously had quite some experience at this. His was a fine smooth dance, and he even had enough breath to sing along:

“Sometimes we're bound for Liverpool,

Sometimes we're bound for Spain,

Heave away, me jollies, heave away!

But now you're never coming back,

We're bound for the county jail

Heave away me jolly boys, we're all bound away!”

The other policemen, standing by and not dancing, joined in the gloomy chorus:

“But now you're never coming back,

We're bound for the county jail

Heave away me jolly boys, we're all bound away!”

Finally the sergeant could not stand still. He handed the guns to his elderly comrade in civvies and started jumping and stomping his feet in a meek imitation of a tap dance.

The gypsy openly smiled as she watched the brave couple of dancers. The policeman in civvies, having regained his breath, smiled too. The gypsy noticed this, frowned and harshly clapped her hands once. The man in civvies immediately put the guns down in a corner of the room and stood at attention, his back perfectly straight. The other policeman, the moustached officer, put his hands down on the elderly man's shoulders, and then the sergeant with a youthful fluff on his face also placed his hands on the shoulders of the officer. They froze in perfect formation, as if awaiting the next command. And it shortly came. The gypsy started clapping a new rhythm, and the three obediently moved their legs to it, bending their knees, throwing their feet up and out to the sides. The policemen's new groovy dance looked like a bunny hop or lambada; they kept jumping, sometimes to the back or sides, but more to the front, in the general direction of the exit:

“Ta-da-da, la-la-la!”

The three guardians of the peace were smiling joyfully, their eyes full of satisfaction and merriment. As she looked upon the dancing guests, Anna felt an overwhelming desire to join them, putting her own hands on the third policeman's shoulders and, with them, fervently throwing her own legs up and out to the sides, jump, jump, jump:

“Ta-da-da, la-la-la!”

She made a step towards the merry men, but heard the gypsy's voice, ordering:

“Take a clean shawl and put everything into it.”

With no hesitation Anna shuffled to the wardrobe, but before she could get anything out of it, the sound of loud laughter snapped her back to her senses. The three policemen were now roaring, hooting, cackling in one voice. As they stood in the exit, no longer holding each other but firmly blocking the door, they were wiping tears of laughter off their faces.

Finally, the elder man in civilian clothing caught his breath again and gave the gypsy a patronizing look.

“Hey, you – Rada, Magdalene, Cookie Monstress, Adeline of the Western Seas and what not… You really thought we were taken in with tricks? We've seen loads of your brothers and sisters in our long and hard service lives. Stretch out your hands!” Then he nodded to the sergeant, “Work away”.

The youngest of the three immediately took a pair of handcuffs off his belt and locked them onto the gypsy's wrists. The woman gave her hands submissively, though lighting and fireballs seemed to be emanating from her eyes while her lips now just produced an unintelligible, snake-like hissing. “She's cursing,” Anna realized, while gradually returning to normal.

As she saw all the family heirlooms and savings on the mirror table, she was horrified, shifting her gaze from one policeman to the next in embarrassment:

“I nearly gave her everything on my own. My own stuff, my husband's, my daughter's…”

The two uniformed men picked up their money, car keys, condoms and documents from the table. The one in civvies nodded:

“Yes, this happens. You are not the first, nor the second, nor even the ninth; there were seventeen robberies like this in this week alone. And we always failed to hit this Rada, Magdalene, Cookie Monstress, Adeline of the Western Seas and what not. Every single time, she managed to vanish before we could get to the scene. The victims and witnesses could not explain anything clearly, nor describe the swindler; they just said she used hypnosis, charming everyone into giving up their valuables and the addresses of friends who are well off. Well, charms don't work on us, and as you see you got lucky: we have finally traced the she-devil. We were shadowing her on the street, saw her make a phone call and then go into your apartment. So we have her now, all proper, clear-faced and red-handed. Now we'll invite an experienced hypnosis doctor and, under his supervision, have the crook confront all the people she managed to clean out. I have to say that she raked out a lot of money and jewellery from them. Let's hope she had no time to push it off, and will soon hand everything back into the jewellery boxes, wardrobes and safes of decent, law-abiding people…”

The gypsy threw an angry look at the speaker and mumbled with her lips again. The policeman made a disgusted face.

“Cut it out with the hissing and spitting or you'll end up with more jail time, as we'll consider it an assault on police on duty.” Then he turned to Anna again: “You will need to come with us, in our car, to the police station. We have to document the situation properly, so I hope you can spare half an hour for us. Are you free right now? Any plans for today?”

Anna shrugged pensively:

“Free… Plans? A great cleanup was on the plans. Especially now, after so many guests, there is much fresh dirt in the house…”

The policeman in civvies smiled:

“That's very good thinking; cleanliness is next to godliness and a godly society is a lawful society. So come on with us and you'll help clean up the city.” He looked at his comrades and sighed: “Though, truth be told, we just caught yet another small fish, swiped a peck of dirt, so to say, from the honest citizens' table. We should really do a great cleanup of the entire residential area. So many swindlers, pimps, drug dealer have sprung up…”

“Yeah,” the moustached policeman with an officer's badge agreed, “Would be nice to nail Cocaine, that monopolist octopus. And also Valve”.

The other uniformed policeman chimed in:

“And what about Borscht? He's got pretty brazen now. Our agents tell us that, under the cover of a restaurant, he has set up a powerful drug lab and even a first-class torture facility, to whisk competitors over to his side.”

“So arrest them?” Anna enquired confusedly.

The man in civilian clothing sighed:

“It's not so simple. Unfortunately, the criminal world has its own intelligence service. Someone in our very own law enforcement circles is working for the gangsters. We carry out one action after another, yet we can never catch the big fish – they get warned and slink away in good time. We strive for search warrants, arrest warrants, achieve them, but find nothing and nobody. All our hard labour, all our ambushes, sleepless nights, shadowing – down a very stinky drain!”

The moustached policeman shook his head:

“Wish we could get the bastard working for the criminal world!”

The young one added:

“Wish we could get him and just hang him by you-don't-care-what right on the pull-up bar in the station yard. Just so everyone sees how the good honest people treat criminals!”