by R. N. Morris
‘I have never heard of anything so ridiculous in my life. You take him away without a word to his family. He is a gentleman. We have friends, you know. Friends who could crush you like a beetle. ’ The woman pulled on Porfiry’s shoulder and hissed into his ear: ‘Yaroslav Nikolayevich Liputin.’ When she pulled back, Porfiry saw that she had a gleeful smile on her face. ‘There! That’s scared him. That’s right. Yaroslav Nikolayevich Liputin. So, what are you waiting for? Release Vakhramev.’
‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Porfiry. ‘You are friends with the prokuror?’
The woman nodded. ‘And he is not happy about Vakhramev’s arrest, let me tell you. He is on his way here now. So, if you want to avoid trouble, little man, you would do well to release Ruslan Vladimirovich immediately.’
‘As I have explained, that will not be possible. As a matter of course, Yaroslav Nikolayevich would be informed of the details of the case. He frequently visits the department.’
‘He is furious. When Vakhramev failed to come home, I naturally went straight to my good friend Yaroslav Nikolayevich. Good friend that he is, he made enquiries on our behalf. That is how we discovered that you had brought Vakhramev here. I would not like to be in your shoes when Yaroslav Nikolayevich arrives.’
‘It is always a pleasure to receive a visit from Yaroslav Nikolayevich. I’m sure today will be no exception,’ said Porfiry with a tense smile.
‘Whom did he murder?’ The question came, unexpectedly, from the drifting girl, who angled her head in the direction of the ceiling, while regarding Porfiry out of the corner of her eye.
‘The victim, I believe, is known to you, if I am correct in assuming that you are Tatyana Ruslanovna. It is Colonel Alexei Setochkin.’
‘Alyosha!’ There was a moment in which her disconnected gaze latched on to Porfiry hungrily. She even turned her head to face him. But then she rolled her eyes upwards in a gesture of dismissal. ‘He had no need to do that. I had finished with Alyosha.’
‘Tatyana,’ said Nastasya Petrovna darkly. ‘What is the meaning of this? Who is this Alyosha?’
‘A nobody. I’m glad he’s dead. I will congratulate Daddy.’ For the first time, the girl seemed to notice Virginsky. She looked at him with a glance that invited complicity.
‘Good grief! What has got into you?’ To Porfiry, Nastasya Petrovna added: ‘See what you have done? Yaroslav Nikolayevich will sort this out. We will do nothing until Yaroslav Nikolayevich arrives.’
‘I am afraid that will not be possible. At least not as far as I am concerned. I have my duties to attend to. I will have to ask you to wait outside, Nastasya Petrovna.’
‘Really!’
‘There are seats provided for your comfort.’
‘You expect me to rub shoulders with common criminals?’
‘Of course not.’ Porfiry turned to Zamyotov. ‘Alexander Grigorevich, would you kindly see to it that no criminals are seated next to this lady.’
‘But it is so difficult to tell these days,’ said Zamyotov airily. ‘Anyone may turn out to be a murderer.’ He fixed Virginsky with a pointed look as he said this.
‘Your sarcasm has not gone unnoticed,’ said Nastasya Petrovna to Porfiry. ‘Yaroslav Nikolayevich will be made aware of it when he arrives, rest assured. Come, Tatyana.’
‘If you please,’ put in Porfiry quickly, ‘Tatyana Ruslanovna will stay. I have a few questions I wish to put to her alone.’
‘Alone? But she is a child. I will not have you intimidating her.’
‘I am not a child. You’re worse than Daddy. He’s always treating me as a child and now look what’s happened.’
Nastasya Petrovna’s eyes enlarged significantly at this outburst.
Tatyana Ruslanovna softened her tone to her mother. ‘It’s better we do what they want. Better for Daddy.’
‘But Yaroslav Nikolayevich -’
‘Yaroslav Nikolayevich is not coming. Yaroslav Nikolayevich thinks you are a tiresome old woman. He barely remembered you. And didn’t remember Daddy at all. He only agreed to help us to be rid of us. We were disturbing his breakfast and he wanted us out of his sight. So he sent a man to find out what had happened. It does not greatly inconvenience Yaroslav Nikolayevich to have his man running to the police headquarters. There were probably papers that he needed picking up. Didn’t he make us wait in a shabby drawing room while he finished his breakfast? And he did not even have the grace to say goodbye in person. He left that honour to his pimply servant, who as good as escorted us off the premises. Do you not know what it is to be insulted, Mother?’
‘How can you say such things? In front of them?’
‘It is the truth. Why will you never face up to the truth? You have deluded yourself about Yaroslav Nikolayevich. You have deluded yourself about Daddy. You delude yourself about everything. ’
Nastasya Petrovna put her hands over her ears and began screaming. ‘Cruel, ungrateful child! I will not listen to another word!’
‘Then wait outside, Mother. You need not concern yourself on my behalf. I’m not afraid of these men.’ Tatyana Ruslanovna’s gaze swooped imperiously over Porfiry and Virginsky. She angled her face upwards imperiously.
‘Please sit down.’ Porfiry gestured with both hands to the sofa. Tatyana Ruslanovna viewed it suspiciously, but at last deigned to lower herself into it. ‘Please be assured’, continued Porfiry, ‘that I earnestly desire to eliminate your father from my investigation and that I will do everything in my power to bring that about as soon as possible.’
‘Don’t trouble yourself on my account. I’m sure you had your reasons for arresting Daddy.’
Porfiry froze on his way to his desk, turning his head sharply back towards her. ‘But do you really think your father capable of murder?’
‘It’s like that other man said, isn’t it? Anyone may turn out to be a murderer.’
‘I wonder, do you include yourself in that philosophy?’
‘Certainly. I have come close to it many times. I would not be surprised if one day I find myself in one of your cells.’
‘I sincerely hope not.’ Porfiry at last took his seat.
‘Me too. I’ll be very clever and escape your detection.’ Tatyana Ruslanovna gave a glassy little laugh.
‘I rather think a better course of action would be to avoid murdering anyone in the first place.’
‘Well, of course, I will try. But I am only human.’
Porfiry flickered his eyelids in an attempt to gather his thoughts. ‘What did you mean when you said that your mother had deluded herself about your father?’
‘There are things that I am not supposed to know. For example, Daddy has a bookcase in his library. It is kept locked. But I know where the key is. And I have read the books that he keeps in there.’
‘Novels?’
‘I think there is another word for the type of books they are.’
‘I understand. I know the kind of books you are referring to.’
‘I expect you do. I expect you like to read them too.’
‘I have encountered them in a professional capacity.’
Her brittle laughter rang out again. There was something broken and cynical to the sound which, given her youthfulness, disturbed Porfiry. ‘You men can never own up to your natures, can you? Well at least Alyosha was honest in that respect. He knew what he wanted and was not ashamed to ask for it.’ She looked at Virginsky, who was standing by the window. Her smile was a fragment of the same laughter. He was not able to return her look.
‘Were you aware that your father received an anonymous letter concerning your relations with Colonel Setochkin?’ asked Porfiry.
‘Oh yes! He was furious about it.’
‘Did he show you the letter?’
‘Of course. He thought it would shame me into mending my ways, or some such nonsense.’
‘I see. I take it that it did not have the effect he desired?’
‘I will not be lectured to by a hypocrite. All his sanctimonious b
owing down before the icons, and he was no better than me.’ Once more she tilted her head upwards, a gesture of contempt.
Porfiry flexed his brows thoughtfully. A small, almost pained, smile flickered briefly. ‘Strange. Those were almost the same words he used to me.’
‘My mother has fallen for his act, but not I. She hasn’t seen what I have seen.’
‘You are referring to the books in the locked bookcase?’
‘Yes, the books. And the diaries. He keeps dirty little diaries, you know, of all his dirty little antics.’
‘Diaries? You mean there’s more than one?’ said Porfiry.
‘Oh yes. Five or six.’
‘And you have read them?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘That must have been hard for you.’
‘Oh yes. He has a terrible style.’
Porfiry’s head trembled towards a bow. ‘And does your father know that you have read them?’
‘Oh no.’ Tatyana Ruslanovna smiled her self-satisfaction.
‘These diaries are in the locked bookcase in your father’s library?’
Tatyana Ruslanovna nodded.
‘Where is the key to the bookcase?’
Tatyana Ruslanovna laughed, the same broken laugh as before. ‘You’d like to read them, would you?’
‘They may have some bearing on the case.’
‘Of course,’ said Tatyana Ruslanovna. Porfiry was beginning to find her knowing irony tiresome.
‘Young lady. A man is dead. This man, I believe, was once someone close to you. Although your father is necessarily a suspect, I am not absolutely convinced that he is the perpetrator. What happened yesterday in Setochkin’s study remains a mystery. It could be argued that you yourself have a motive for killing Setochkin. Therefore, you are a suspect too. I urge you to take this seriously. You may very well find yourself in one of my cells sooner than you thought.’
Tatyana Ruslanovna clicked her tongue and turned her face away from him in a dismissive shrug. ‘The key is at the back of one of the drawers in his desk. The right-hand drawer.’
‘Thank you.’
‘However, that drawer is locked.’
‘I see,’ said Porfiry rather stiffly. ‘And where is the key for that drawer?’
‘That is in the left-hand drawer of the desk.’
‘And is that drawer locked?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And the key?’
Tatyana Ruslanovna turned on him a face brimming with mischief and excitement. ‘Where do you think? You’re a detective, aren’t you? Where would you look for it?’
Porfiry gave it only a moment’s thought. ‘Knowing your father as I do, knowing the tensions that his soul is subject to, the very real conflicts that torment him, and for which I pity him, as a man . . .’ He looked steadily at Tatyana Ruslanovna. ‘I would not be surprised if you found the key hidden in the pages of his Bible. In the New Testament. If I were to offer a more precise opinion, I would say somewhere among the verses of the Book of Revelation, perhaps in proximity to chapter two, where Jezebel is mentioned, or, more likely, chapter seventeen, which as you know refers to the Whore of Babylon.’
Tatyana’s mouth dropped open, and her sense of her own cleverness seemed to fall out of it.
At that point, however, the interview was interrupted by another commotion outside, in which the voice of Nastasya Petrovna once again dominated. A moment later, the door to Porfiry’s chambers opened and a tall, severely impeccable man wearing the buttons of a high-ranking civil servant entered. In addition, he was decorated with the medal of the order of St Stanislav.
Nastasya Petrovna’s bustling form was visible behind him, protruding on either side. ‘He is here! Our saviour!’ Nastasya Petrovna peered around the man’s elbow, her mouth now pinched with vindication. She glared at her daughter. ‘You said he would not come but he has. You were wrong. Cruel and wrong.’ To Porfiry, she added, ‘You must not believe a word she says. She speaks only out of spite. What did we do to deserve such an ungrateful child?’ Nastasya Petrovna threw up her hands.
Porfiry rose from his seat. ‘Yaroslav Nikolayevich, good-day to you.’
‘Porfiry Petrovich.’ His name sounded like a summoning to account.
‘You are in trouble now, little man,’ cried Nastasya Petrovna triumphantly. ‘It is not for the likes of you to lock Ruslan Vladimirovich Vakhramev in a cell.’
The prokuror turned stiffly to Nastasya Petrovna. ‘Madam, kindly wait outside.’ It looked for the moment as if further protest would erupt from her, but she remembered herself in time and instead smiled simperingly. ‘And take your daughter with you.’
‘Tatyana!’
The girl rose slowly with a final tilt of her head and sauntered after her mother’s sweeping bulk. Virginsky’s magnetised gaze tracked her.
‘Thank God she is gone,’ said Prokuror Liputin as the door was closed behind them. The usual impervious dignity of his expression for the moment gave way to an almost hounded, certainly human, vulnerability. ‘She is the most annoying woman I know,’ continued Liputin, ‘but she is a friend of my wife’s.’ A spasm of regret tensed the muscles of his face. He then noticed Virginsky and his expression became guarded. He turned quizzically to Porfiry.
‘Allow me to introduce Pavel Pavlovich. A new recruit to our department. His appointment was approved by your office, naturally. ’
‘Ah yes, I think I remember the letter now. But were you not once . . .?’
‘Pavel Pavlovich recently graduated from the university with great honours,’ said Porfiry quickly.
‘Your face looks somehow familiar.’ Liputin frowned at Virginsky, then shook his head slowly. ‘Now, what is this all about, Porfiry Petrovich? I was about to leave for Pavlovsk today. I do not appreciate this delay.’
‘I am sorry that it has inconvenienced you, Yaroslav Nikolayevich. That was not my intention. It is not a straightforward case, however. A man, a former officer of the Izmailovsky regiment, one Colonel Setochkin, has been shot dead. That lady’s husband, Ruslan Vladimirovich Vakhramev, was discovered minutes after with the gun in his hand. The prima facie evidence is incriminating, I am afraid. No one else was seen to go into the room - or out of it, for that matter. There is no question of suicide. ’
Yaroslav Nikolayevich murmured distractedly. ‘If I were to act as guarantor for Vakhramev, if I were to take him with me to Pavlovsk . . .? Believe me, Porfiry Petrovich, this is not something I undertake lightly. For one thing, I will have to endure that woman’s company for the duration of the train journey.’
‘Pavlovsk? That would not be very convenient if we need to speak to him again, as I feel sure we will.’
‘No, no, you are quite right. Here, I have a better solution. I will remain in St Petersburg and Vakhramev can stay with me; we will pack the woman and her daughter off to Pavlovsk to be with my wife. How would that suit you?’
Porfiry could not conceal his surprise at the prokuror’s conspiratorial familiarity. ‘He would be, in a manner of speaking, under house arrest with you?’
‘If you wish to put it like that.’
Porfiry thought for a moment. ‘Very well. There will have to be police officers in attendance. We will need Nikodim Fomich’s consent. ’
‘You may leave Nikodim Fomich to me,’ said Yaroslav Nikolayevich, drawing himself up with a sigh.
A mirroring movement from Virginsky drew the attention of the two other men. Liputin considered him sternly. ‘If I remember rightly, Porfiry Petrovich, there was a moment when it seemed very probable that this young man was a murderer.’
‘Yes, indeed, Yaroslav Nikolayevich.’
‘Let us hope that we have a similar outcome to look forward to in the case of Vakhramev.’ Liputin’s look to Porfiry as he said this was one of command rather than hope.
Porfiry smiled and nodded automatically as the prokuror left to meet the importuning cries of Nastasya Petrovna.
6
Among the whores
>
Salytov looked up at the glowing sky, away from the voices and the snatches of raucous music thrown out from basement taverns. In this nocturnal softening of the sun, some strange wildness was unbound, a spirit of recklessness and licence. The flowing waterways, the Moika, Fontanka, all the branches of the Neva, even the stinking Yekaterininsky Canal, shimmered. Everything was stirred and intoxicated. Salytov felt it too. Who could sleep at night in the summer in St Petersburg, without first exhausting themselves on the streets, wandering the embankments, pacing squares as wide as the days, in search of the promise of a passing scent or danger?