The Affliction of Praha: A gripping murder mystery set in 1920s Czechoslovakia

not for the dead man laid beneath them, souring the scene.
‘Very well,’ Edgar agreed, rather reluctantly and stubbornly. He then nodded with a positive affirmation that Juraj may accompany him under one non-negotiable condition: ‘First, we shall pay a visit to your mother.’

2.
Upon arrival at Teralov Manor, the detective and Juraj were greeted sadly by the mourning Baroness.
‘Juraj!’ she cried out. ‘My boy—my sweet, sweet boy. I am so sorry.’ Weeping tears of utter pain and sorrow, she held her—now only—child close, as if he were all that was left in her world.
 ‘Mother,’ Juraj finally spoke. ‘The hotel. Peter—he was there. A few nights ago. You spoke to the police just this morning, why did you not mention this?’ Juraj asked with genuine interest. Edgar could detect the slightest sense of suspicion in Juraj’s deposition.
 ‘May we come inside?’ interrupted Edgar. ‘It will not take long. I do not wish to impose upon you in this time of great suffering, but alas, I must ask you a few questions before I am to depart. Your good son here has volunteered his services to me as a guide and protectorate.’ He spoke with sincerity and respect, but his mouth slightly curled into a faint smile towards the end.
The Baroness chuckled mildly in response as Edgar had captured the temperament of Juraj all too well. She could not help but appreciate the detective’s intuition to have understood Juraj’s character so well, after such a short time.
‘Yes, of course—do come in.’
Entering the large foyer, Edgar looked around and examined the wealth and influence that was clearly apparent within the Teralov family. A man of modest means, he was used to being around people of political power and status back home in Moscow. Their influence reached far and wide, but the monetary wealth the Teralov family clearly possessed was a different circumstance for Edgar. It was all he could do to contain his amazement of the sheer surprise that built behind his eyes upon observing the time-worn artefacts and status of history that littered the Manor’s halls.
‘Everything has a price, detective,’ the Baroness surmised, watching his eyes as he scanned the halls in silence. ‘The debt now owed to me will be paid in full. I understand you are the best Moscow has?’ Edgar shuffled awkwardly where he stood, his hands held together behind his back, scratching his fingers against one another out of her sight.
‘So they tell me, Baroness Teralova,’ he responded with a slight bow of his head. Edgar was not used to being asked questions so directly and forthright. This lady was clearly afraid of nothing and even in mourning at the immediate loss of her eldest boy, she was a terrifying figure, cut with sharp features and greying hair. It was obvious she had been very beautiful in her youth and had retained all her wit and zest—it made her all the more terrifying. Who on earth would be foolish enough to defy a person like this? Someone has signed their own death warrant, thought Edgar to himself.
With a click of her fingers, a maid was summoned forth by the Baroness.
‘Anita, tea for myself and our guests,’ she commanded.
‘Right away,’ the maid answered, smiling kindly whilst staring at Edgar. As she turned, she briefly faced Juraj, who had smiled at the maid but it was not returned, as her smile turned into one of disdain.
With all three sitting on the grandiose settees and sipping on the freshly brewed warm tea, the detective began his formal interrogation. He questioned where she was on the night of the murder, who she was with and, more so, why she had failed to mention Peter’s plans and intentions of residence outside the Teralov home, just some few days before the present.
‘Baroness Teralova,’ began Edgar, delicately. ‘Certain facts have come to my attention and it would be imprudent of me to not raise such matters with your good self. I must insist that this is a question of procedure more so than of suspicion,’ he cautioned, marking his words carefully.
The Baroness studied every conjecture of his face with acute angles of vision. Her eyebrows were ever so slightly raised, as if on the precipice of waiting for Edgar to say the wrong thing—almost daring him to make a mistake he might regret and bring great insult on the woman of power in such dire and distraught times.
Sensing the imminent danger, Edgar managed his next words conscientiously, aware of the tension in the room and the subtlety the situation warranted.
‘Please, Baroness, if you may—how did you come to learn of Peter’s location and whereabouts, prior to the calamity that has unfolded before your good name and family?’
Although it was a queer situation, for the most part, her story made sense and lined up to moderate satisfaction for the detective.
 She had been at home, and the maid, who stood silent in the far corner of the room, watching and waiting for any command of service, could attest to such. Also, she had simply failed to mention such detail to the police as it was commonly reported in the papers of Peter’s… bachelor ways. She had quite simply thought nothing more of it.
Edgar stood and beamed with a great smile, quietly releasing an unmistakable sigh of relief. At least Juraj thought he recognized it as such if he was not mistaken.
 ‘Well, I think I have heard enough. Baroness, I thank you for your time and I wish you well. Of course, my sincere condolences and I shall do my best to locate the accused. I can assure you, he will be brought to justice and tried in the Soviet state for crimes against our motherland itself.’
 The Baroness slightly bowed and thanked the detective for his assistance in the matter, implying she would have expected nothing less. Gathering his belongings, Edgar started making his