Commissioner Beskidzki felt like lighting a cigarette. And to curse.
He didn't like corpses.
He disliked corpses very much.
That was why he had moved to this small, quiet town. In such small towns, the only people who died a sudden death were victims of traffic accidents. He, as a criminal, did not deal with what the traffic police dealt with.
But here, too, there was a dead body, and not just any dead body. In his small, quiet town someone had been murdered. What is more, it was someone famous.
Commissioner Beskidzki really needed a cigarette.