Ritam zlocina Page #4

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while his children walk

around in torn shoes?

That's a complex question.

Is it a crime when one doesn't care

about his ill parents?

I guess it is, if you say so.

That's why one should record it all.

Otherwise, statistics is not complete.

That's ok, but...

I can't see why...

- Why is all this for, right?

Yes.

- I'm not surprised.

As a matter of fact, I haven't

explained you all about my work

and what is the result derived

from it even from afar.

You don't see a purpose. Right?

Explain me, then.

Roughly, at least.

Look, knowing about something

means a lot, right?

Right.

The closer we get to the complete knowledge

about what a crime is and how it occurs,

I guess the sooner we'll destroy it.

Yes, maybe.

- It's doubtless.

That's it.

You see,

my goal is to examine the crime

activities in the city of Zagreb.

In fact, to find out the way of

getting rid of it more easily.

I've told you I'm a sentimental man.

I'm doing all this 'cause I love this city.

I can't say I wasn't

impressed by Fabian's theory.

That night when he told me all about it,

I wasn't able to sleep

but I was rather listening against

my will to the paper rustling

that was coming out of his room.

There was something silly about it

like with every other hobby.

I find hobbyists strange as usual.

On the other hand, there was this Fabian's

noble desire for common good,

such denial and creative fervor

that left a strong impression on me.

During these days, however, I had

to think about other things as well.

Because Zdenka has shown up.

Ivica!

It's you? Hi.

- Hi!

When have you come? How are you?

- I'm fine, thank you.

The day before yesterday.

Mom had a heart attack.

She's feeling better now.

The doctor had come.

It was Zdenka. A woman I've never

recovered from to this day.

We were living in the same street and I was

in loved with her ever since my childhood.

At one point, we were even a

couple in the high school days.

We used to hold hands, walk around Paromlinska

street and everybody knew about us.

Her father was already working in Switzerland,

and one day he called her to come there

even before her graduation.

It was known that she opened

a beauty salon in Zurich.

We were sending letters for a while,

I remember I was writing pretty fearfully

and then I just stopped at all.

How are your kids?

- Ok.

The kids grow as usual.

What about your husband?

- Leave it.

Don't you have anything else to ask?

Is it serious about your mother?

- You know, she's old...

It strikes legs, arms and mouth, too.

My brother is working in Iraq.

So, the neighbors called me

and I've come immediately.

Are you taking care alone?

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