‘Wasn’t that concert heavenly?’ Lauren said, snuggling much closer to Oscar than the size of the booth warranted. ‘At moments like this I can believe Dostoevsky’s assertion that beauty will save the world.’
‘You know, he didn’t really say that directly,’ Emily responded. ‘A character in The Idiot more or less accuses Prince Myshkin of having said it – giving it as evidence of his imbecility – but he denies uttering those precise words.’
‘Don’t you think Dostoevsky believed it, though? I bet he was just sneaking in his own pet theory in a form in which no one could challenge it.’
‘That’s possible. Maybe he didn’t want to take the trouble of defending the idea in the novel, so he didn’t give the characters a chance to debate it.’
‘I wish he had. I’d have been interested to hear what they’d say,’ said Oscar.
‘Me too. I’d be inclined to think Dostoevsky himself did believe it, if you look at it the right way.’
‘What way is that?’
‘Assuming he accepted Keats’s assertion, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty”, I think Dostoevsky would identify both beauty and truth with Christ. And in that sense, absolutely, beauty will save the world.’
Oscar and Lauren exchanged an uncomfortable glance, and Emily realized she was talking to people for whom Christ was a historical figure, a moral teacher, a philosophical construct, perhaps, but not the Son of God and Savior of the world.
‘But you can look at it on a more human level, too,’ Oscar said. ‘The beauty that people create goes a long way toward saving both those who create it and those who partake of it.’
‘I sure felt saved tonight,’ said Lauren. ‘I’ve always believed that if you could get people to genuinely perceive and appreciate beauty, they’d be healthier psychologically and far less prone to antisocial behavior.’
‘That sounds reasonable to me,’ Emily replied. ‘I’ve had a really tough time lately, and that concert just washed all the turmoil right out of me. I felt peaceful for the first time in weeks. Imagine if mental patients could live in a beautiful natural setting, in comfortable, orderly, well-designed buildings, surrounded by great art and music and literature. Surely that would go a long way toward facilitating their cure.’
‘I see you share my opinion, ma’am,’ Lauren quoted, reproducing Wickham’s intonation to Emily’s delight. ‘That’s been my vision ever since I started studying psychology. Maybe someday we can build a clinic together.’
‘That sounds like a marvelous plan.’
Oscar said, ‘Lauren will be the brains – the expertise, I mean, not to disparage your brain, Emily – and I guess Emily will be the moneybags. But I’m not sure where I could fit into this scheme.’
‘You could introduce the residents to literature,’ Lauren said. ‘And do readings. You’re great at reading aloud.’
‘I second that,’ Emily said, remembering Christmas Eve at Windy Corner. ‘You were terrific when we read A Christmas Carol. And I hear you’re an excellent teacher. I nominate you for official Literary Resident of our clinic. What shall we call it?’
‘“Saved by Beauty”,’ Lauren pronounced. ‘I can see it already.’ She giggled. ‘Of course, it’s really just a pipe dream, isn’t it? I mean, how likely is it to actually come about?’
‘As likely as we want it to be, I think,’ Emily replied. ‘When the current kerfuffle is over, let’s get together and talk about it seriously. I’m pretty tied up with this murder at the moment. I can’t give a lot of thought to anything else.’
‘Oh, the murder,’ groaned Oscar. ‘What do you have to do with that? Or do you naturally end up sleuthing every time a murder happens in your general vicinity?’
‘I was involved with a group of people who either were Taylor’s victims or were trying to save others from her. So I know the whole gaggle of suspects and what was going on with them, more or less. The young man who’s been arrested was a kind of protégé of mine.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Oscar said in a small voice. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘No reason you should.’
Lauren had been following the conversation avidly, growing increasingly excited. ‘You mean you actually solve murders, Emily? What fun! How did you get into that?’
Emily grimaced. ‘It wasn’t by choice. My great-aunt was murdered, but nobody knew it at the time. I ended up helping to figure that out. And since then murder seems to follow me around like a particularly nasty and unwelcome stray dog. I can’t get away from it, so I do my best to get it off my back as quickly as possible. It isn’t exactly what I’d call fun.’
Lauren looked abashed, but only momentarily. ‘Well, no, not fun per se. But isn’t it satisfying in some way? Digging for clues, chasing down the truth, bringing criminals to justice?’
Emily frowned. ‘I might feel that way if I weren’t always personally involved to some extent. In two cases I’ve been a target myself, and in another my housekeeper was a prime suspect.’ She glanced at Oscar, silently querying whether she might mention his involvement in the last murder she’d faced at Windy Corner. He nodded almost imperceptibly. So he and Lauren had shared their closet skeletons, and she was still around. This relationship was looking more hopeful by the minute.
‘And most recently, it was a murder that brought to light the fact that Oscar and I are siblings. This time around it isn’t quite so close to home.’ She paused, recalling the one aspect of the current situation that had hit extremely close to home. But her memories of past abuse were not intrinsically connected with the murder, and she didn’t want to go into them with Oscar and Lauren. ‘But I still care about the people involved. It isn’t like being a policeman and dealing with a bunch of strangers.’
‘No, I guess not. Well, these people are strangers to me, pretty much, and it sounds thrilling. Do let me know if I can do anything to help.’
Oscar stared at Lauren in something like horror. ‘You actually want to be involved with a murder investigation? Are you out of your mind?’
‘Why not? I won’t drag you into it if you don’t want me to. But I’m interested in forensic psychology. If we don’t build that clinic, that’s probably what I’ll go into. I don’t want to be an academic forever.’
He shuddered. ‘Better you than me.’ He appealed to Emily. ‘Just don’t let her get in over her head, OK?’
‘I won’t if I can help it,’ Emily said with a fond glance at Lauren. ‘But I have a feeling she’s likely to dive right into the deep end.’
On Saturday morning, while she was still at home, Emily was a little surprised to get a call from Colin. ‘Do you guys work twenty-four seven?’ she asked.
‘During a murder investigation we do,’ he said. ‘Not all of the twenty-four, usually, but definitely seven. Anyway, I heard back from the organized crime guys about your Russian mafia dude.’
‘Oh, really? So Wharton was right about him?’
‘Absolutely. Ivan Bordetsky. He’s not a hit-man or an enforcer, though. He’s head of a smuggling ring.’
‘Aha! I knew it! Did they look into that icon on Curzon’s wall?’
‘Yep. It’s shady, all right. Looks like you were on target about Curzon being involved with the ring in smuggling it out of Russia. Our guys have confiscated the icon and are looking into getting it returned to Russia eventually. In the meantime, it may help get Bordetsky and his gang put away for a while.’
A part of Emily was glad to hear that, but another part mourned that she would never be able to venerate that beautiful icon in the way its creator intended, in a place of worship. But someone would – many someones – and that was the point. It wouldn’t be hidden away in the office of one woman who saw it only as a valuable art object.
‘So do you think Bordetsky’s a viable suspect?’
‘OC says not. For one thing, he’s got a pretty good alibi – he was seen at a nightclub by more people than he could realistically have bribed to lie for him. And for another, the method is wrong for
that kind of hit. Mob guys use guns, occasionally knives, but not opportunistic weapons like that statue. And they kill dispassionately, not in a rage. I didn’t tell you this before, but Curzon had multiple head wounds – the killer struck half a dozen times. He was frenzied.’
Emily winced. ‘I didn’t know the number, but I always did figure rage was involved. I guess because Taylor was that kind of person.’
‘Yeah. Sorry to kill your pet theory.’
‘Oh well, I never gave it all that much credence. Any other developments?’
‘We got some DNA results back. Daniel’s DNA is on Curzon’s clothing. Apart from the blood.’
‘That’s easily explained. She tried to force herself on him that morning.’
‘The morning of the murder? Why did you never tell me that?’
‘I guess the classic answer – you never asked. I told you about the general situation between them.’
‘Yeah, but – stuff like that can be important. There’s other DNA we can’t identify. Do you know of other people she may have touched?’
‘I do, as a matter of fact. She also had confrontations with her husband, Douglas, and with Richard McClintock. I only heard the conversations, I didn’t directly witness them, so I don’t know how much touching went on, but if I were you I’d swab those two. Then if you still have unidentified DNA left over, that will be really interesting.’
‘It certainly will. I’m on it.’
He hung up, and Emily was left wondering what to do with her day. Of course, the library was open and there was nothing to prevent her from continuing her research. But she felt divorced from it at this point.
She could always visit Daniel again, just to offer him moral support. He must be badly in need of that. She called Colin back.
‘Today? I guess so. I’ll fix it up and call you back.’
She puttered around the house and played with the cats, who had been pestering her nonstop, until he called back. ‘Can you be here by eleven?’
‘No problem. See you then.’
TWENTY-TWO
Emily had an hour before she needed to be at the police station, so she stopped by the library to pick up some books for Daniel. Svetlana sat at his table, trying to type in some handwritten notes on the laptop Emily had left with her. But she was visibly flustered by Sidney hovering over her. ‘Just let me help,’ he wheedled as Emily approached. ‘I can scan stuff while you type. Then we can finish faster and go for coffee.’
‘Professor Cavanaugh is paying me to do this work. I can’t let you do half of it. Besides, she pays me by the hour, not the job. If I finish artificially fast, I won’t earn enough money to—’
‘To what?’
‘Never mind.’ Emily assumed Svetlana did not want to disclose to Sidney her plan to circumvent her father’s designs on her immediate future. That was probably wise.
‘Good morning,’ she said, making both students jump. ‘Sidney, would you mind leaving us alone? I need to go over some things with Svetlana.’
He smiled his sycophantic smile. ‘Of course, Professor. Anything to oblige.’ He turned to Svetlana. ‘Will I see you at Commons later?’
‘I’m not sure. My father might want to go out somewhere.’
Sidney’s face fell, but he kept the smile pasted on. ‘Au revoir, then.’ He sidled out.
When he was out of sight and earshot, Svetlana gave a massive sigh. ‘Sidney is really starting to get on my nerves. I used to think it was just Daniel he cared about, but now he won’t leave me alone. And my father encourages him. I honestly thought Papa had more sense.’
‘I’m afraid your father may see him as a potential suitor,’ Emily said gently. ‘He is going to be a Jewish lawyer, after all.’
Svetlana made a scoffing sound. ‘Bullshit. He’s no more Jewish than the pope. And he never mentioned wanting to go to law school before, either. He just can’t seem to help trying to ingratiate himself with every person he meets who might be of use to him somehow. It’s sickening.’ She shuddered. ‘And he keeps sympathizing with me about Daniel, but it doesn’t feel genuine. One of these days I’m going to lose it and kick him into next week.’
Emily envisioned that kick: with Svetlana’s ballet training, it would be graceful, but also highly effective. The picture of a pas de deux between them ending with Sidney flailing through the air to land in an ungainly heap on the opposite side of the stage was a little too appealing.
Svetlana ran her hands over her flawless hair and corrected her posture, as Emily remembered being taught to do in ballet class – imagine a string attached to the top of your head, pulling you up. That must be her way of centering herself. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’re here,’ she said. ‘I wanted to ask – have you made any progress? Do you know who killed Curzon?’
‘I’m afraid not. We’ve pursued a lot of leads, but so far none of them looks too promising.’ Seeing the girl’s crestfallen face, Emily hastened to add, ‘But we still have other suspects who haven’t been ruled out. Don’t give up hope.’
Svetlana’s fragile composure deserted her. She put her fists to her temples. ‘If only there were something I could do! All this waiting and worrying is driving me out of my mind.’
‘I’m not sure what you can do in the investigation. But I’m just on my way to visit Daniel and take him some books. I could at least give him a message from you.’
Svetlana grasped Emily’s arm. ‘My father’s not coming to campus till lunchtime. Take me with you. Please? If I could at least see Daniel …’
‘Of course.’ Emily led Svetlana to her car – or tried to, but it was more like leading a cat to its food bowl. The girl kept rushing ahead of her, then turning back as if to hurry her on.
As they drove, Emily gave her an update on how the investigation was progressing, omitting the fact that she still somewhat suspected Svetlana’s father.
‘So who do you think did it?’ Svetlana asked, as urgently as if Daniel’s fate hung on Emily’s opinion.
‘I really couldn’t say at this point,’ Emily replied. ‘I can’t be sure of any one person having all three of the essential elements – motive, method, and opportunity. But we’ll get there, don’t worry. The truth will out.’
Svetlana sat silent for the rest of the ride, biting her nails and leaning forward as if that would get them there sooner. Emily could not remember a longer few miles of driving.
Colin met them at the front desk of the justice center. He started when he saw Emily’s companion. Emily hastened to explain that Svetlana was hoping to visit Daniel as well.
‘I’m sorry,’ Colin said to Svetlana. ‘He can only have one visitor a day, and I’ve already put down Emily’s name. It’s too late to change it.’ He gestured toward a cubicle furnished with several semi-comfortable chairs. ‘You can wait there. Maybe you’d like to write him a note? I could bring you some paper.’
Svetlana’s pent-up energy suddenly deserted her. She sagged against Emily, then with an effort righted herself. ‘Yes, all right. That would be better than nothing.’
‘And could you get her some sweet tea?’ Emily said to Colin in a low voice. ‘She looks like she needs it.’
Colin nodded and disappeared down the hall. Emily led Svetlana to a chair, determined to make her visit short; the girl seemed about to break. Colin returned with a steaming styrofoam cup and a packet of cheese crackers from a vending machine. Hardly Svetlana’s typical healthful fare, but any calories were better than none at this point.
Colin ushered Emily through the security process as before. It took a few extra minutes for the guards to clear the books she’d brought, but soon she was face-to-face with Daniel across a table.
He looked no worse than before – possibly a bit better, as he’d had time to recover from his seizure. But he was still a long way from healthy.
Emily pushed the books across the table to him, and he brightened considerably. ‘Thank you so much. You wouldn’t believe how bored I’ve been. I managed to get a pad and
pen to scribble some thoughts, but I couldn’t do any real work without my books.’ He looked over the stack. ‘You didn’t bring any of the library books, I see. Not sure I’ll ever get out to return them?’
‘It isn’t that. I just didn’t know what things were like in here – whether the books might get stolen or damaged.’
‘I doubt any of these guys would steal scholarly works on Dostoevsky. They wouldn’t even be able to pronounce his name. But I guess you’re right about the potential for damage.’ He sighed. ‘Still, these are a lot better than nothing. Thanks.’
He set the books down and fixed his gaze on her. ‘So, have you found any evidence that doesn’t point to me?’
‘Not evidence, exactly. We’ve broken a couple of alibis, but unfortunately all that proves is that the men in question didn’t want the police to know they’d been in Taylor’s office that night. Which is understandable.’
Daniel’s face fell. ‘I didn’t really expect you’d find anything. What could you find? I must have killed her.’
‘You still haven’t been able to remember anything?’
He shook his head. ‘Not a single thing. It’s a complete blank.’
Emily huffed. ‘If the police were willing to interview everyone on campus, they’d be bound to find someone who saw you somewhere else in that crucial hour. But they won’t commit the resources. A bird in the hand and all that.’
He smiled wryly. ‘A jailbird in the hand. Can you blame them?’
‘If only we could figure out who DR is.’
‘You mean besides me?’
‘Remember I told you those initials were in Curzon’s appointment book for ten-thirty? If it wasn’t you, there must be someone else with those initials. Or some other significance to the letters.’
Death With Dostoevsky Page 17