‘I understand! How could I fail to understand? Clearly I understand.’
‘Then there is no need to labour it.’
‘I merely wished you to understand that I understood. That your meaning was not lost on me!’
‘I take it then that we are finished here.’ Bakhmutov placed his hands on the table, in preparation to rising.
‘Very nearly, Ivan Iakovich. There is just one other aspect of the evening’s tragedy that is not yet clear to me.’ Porfiry once more opened Virginsky’s notebook.
‘Why do you keep fiddling with that blasted notebook? Open, closed, open, closed …! Can you not decide once and for all whether you wish to consult it or not?’
Porfiry met Bakhmutov’s exasperation with astonishment. ‘I do beg your pardon. It is the nature of this work. One thinks one has grasped the essentials of a case only to discover there is some aspect of it that … eludes one’s understanding, after all. You were on your way to see Yelena Filippovna?’
‘Yes.’
‘You did not know at the time that she was dead?’
‘Of course not! What an absurd question!’
‘Yes, but you may be surprised how often the absurd intrudes into my investigations.’
‘That is no doubt because you are an absurd man.’
Porfiry gave the impression of thinking seriously about what Bakhmutov had just said. ‘After Captain Mizinchikov had pushed past you, ignoring your urgent entreaties, what did you do?’
‘You know very well what I did. It’s all there in that little book.’
Porfiry gave a sharp nod of appreciation before consulting the notebook. ‘You then saw Aglaia Filippovna, the deceased’s sister.’
‘That is correct.’
‘This was where?’
‘She was coming out of the dressing room.’
‘It was at this point that she screamed?’
‘Yes.’
‘She screamed upon seeing you?’
‘I suppose you could put it like that.’
‘That is what I don’t understand. Why she screamed then. Would it not have been more natural for her to scream when she discovered her sister dead?’
‘I really cannot say. She was in shock, clearly.’
‘You then went into the room and saw Yelena Filippovna’s body for yourself?’
Bakhmutov closed his eyes and nodded.
‘Was there anyone else in the room?’
‘No.’
‘You searched the room?’
‘I did not.’
‘You did not look behind the screen?’
‘No.’
‘A pity.’
‘It did not strike me as necessary.’
‘At any rate, you saw no one else between your encounter with Captain Mizinchikov and meeting Aglaia Filippovna?’
‘There were servants about, I believe.’
‘How many?’
Bakhmutov now opened his eyes and looked at Porfiry with a kind of stunned bewilderment. ‘I really cannot say. I did not count them.’
8 In the red drawing room
Prince Naryskin the elder felt the heat on his face as the fire in the red drawing room flared, tongues of orange licking greedily over the small bundle of letters he had just fed into them. The paper edges crackled and disintegrated. Multiple layers of words, written in her unexpectedly regular hand, were briefly revealed and quickly consumed. It seemed that the last remnants of her personality were contained in the strokes and whorls of ink, and that this was a further destruction of her, a second more final murder. He watched the fine black smoke curl and rise from the letters, her soul set free; he felt it in his eyes, drawing tears, and tasted it in his throat, its harshness somehow welcome.
The fine red silk ribbon around it was the last part of the bundle to catch. Wielding the fine tongs with dangerous clumsiness, Prince Naryskin piled burning coals over the flimsy ashes, burying this last vestige of what had passed between them.
‘F-father?’
The prince stood sharply. ‘What?’
‘It looked like you were … b-burning something,’ observed his son, suppressing his stammer by slowing down his words. He closed the door behind him as noiselessly as he had opened it.
‘It was nothing. I was just stirring the coals.’
‘With the … t-tongs?’
‘Does one not?’ The elder prince bent and replaced the guilty object on the stand.
His son crossed the red drawing room to join him at the European-style hearth. He peered suspiciously into the heavy marble frame, then picked up the poker and stirred the coals himself, as if to demonstrate how it was done.
‘I find it strangely comforting,’ said the elder prince, to his son’s curved back.
‘Why do you need c-c-comforting?’
‘Perhaps I was thinking of you.’
The younger prince straightened. ‘Those magistrates are looking for you. I have them outside.’
‘Did we not give them a study in which to conduct their investigations?’
‘It seems they cannot be c-c-contained there.’
It was a moment before the elder prince replied: ‘Where is your mother?’
‘She has taken to her bed, I believe. The evening has placed a very g-great strain upon her nerves.’
‘Of course.’ The elder prince fell into a contemplative silence.
‘The … magistrates?’
‘Very well. Show them in.’
‘Prince Nikolai Sergeevich,’ said Porfiry as he and Virginsky were admitted by Prince Sergei. ‘Why did you not inform us that the Tsarevich and Count Tolstoy had been here this evening?’
‘I did not wish to confuse you.’
Porfiry’s face flushed almost as red as his surroundings. ‘That is very considerate of you. I might say a little too considerate. I regret that you allowed them to depart before the police arrived.’
‘It is inconceivable that I should detain a minister of state. It is beyond inconceivable that I should detain the Tsar’s son. Their presence here need not concern you. They have nothing to do with your investigation.’
‘Why was the Tsarevich here? His political position is well known. I do not see him as a natural supporter of such a cause.’
‘The wellbeing of all his future subjects is naturally close to his heart.’
‘So he was here as a benefactor?’
‘What other capacity could there be?’
‘I wondered if he had an interest in any of the performers. Yelena Filippovna, for example.’
‘Your line of questioning is impertinent,’ said the elder Prince Naryskin.
‘And insulting,’ added the younger.
‘But I am afraid it is necessary, and permissible. Under the new laws, even the Tsarevich could be brought before a court to testify.’
‘Preposterous.’
‘I am surprised, sir,’ Porfiry confided to the elder prince. ‘I would have taken you for a supporter of the Tsar’s reforms.’
‘And so I am, but I had not imagined that it would be used as a means to harass one’s friends.’
‘It is not a question of harassing. However, if we are to fulfil our duties as investigators, we must be permitted to ask what questions we will of whomsoever we wish.’
‘Surely you have asked all the c-c-questions you need?’ cut in the younger prince heatedly. ‘All you have to do is c-c-catch Mizinchikov and then you will have your murderer.’
‘No doubt. But to investigate a crime properly one must understand what led up to it, which requires us to take statements from everyone involved.’
‘But the Tsarevich is not involved.’ The elder Prince Naryskin charged his assertion with absolute authority. ‘And it is nothing short of treasonable of you to suggest that he is.’
‘His presence here involves him.’
‘Then, sir, I say that he was not here, and whoever says that he was is a liar.’
‘Ivan Iakovich Bakhmutov says that he was here.’
‘All you need to know about that man is that he was born a Jew. He has changed his name and his religion. Burnstein, that’s his true name. Can you trust such a man?’
‘He describes himself as a friend of the Tsarevich’s.’
‘Nonsense. The Tsarevich would never be on friendly terms with a Jew. You know that.’