Virginsky frowned thoughtfully. This man — plump, ageing, short-winded, with his preposterously mannered tics, always blinking and smirking as if he were some silly lovesick girl and not a senior investigating magistrate — this man was constantly surprising him. It could only be because he, Virginsky, was constantly underestimating Porfiry Petrovich. He had fallen into the trap again, despite consciously being on his guard against it. And Porfiry, with just a few words and a sly, sidelong glance, had shown that he knew precisely what was going on in Virginsky’s soul.
‘How do you do it, Porfiry Petrovich?’
‘Is that what you were going to say?’
‘No. And you know that it was not.’
‘Very well. “How do I do it?” you ask. “How do I do what?” I ask.’
‘You have an unerring knack.’
Porfiry blinked expectantly.
‘For voicing the very thing that is on my mind.’
‘Oh? And what was that? I’ve forgotten what I said, you see. My memory is not unerring.’
‘You spoke of. . trust.’
‘And you hesitated, just now as you said the word. That is all there is to my knack, such as it is. I pay attention to the little signals.’
‘You feel that there is some loss of trust between us?’
‘Do you?’
‘Our differences. .’
‘Are as nothing. Nothing!’ cried Porfiry, with an emphatic wave of his arm.
‘. . may not be as easy to overcome as you might hope,’ insisted Virginsky.
‘What are you trying to tell me, Pavel Pavlovich? I hope to God it is not what I fear.’
‘I am a man of principles. I am no Kozodavlev.’
‘You judge him too quickly and perhaps too harshly. We do not yet know what has prompted him to act in the way he has.’
‘You defend him. That is because he flattered you in an article.’
‘Please, give me more credit than that. Who knows what lies behind Kozodavlev’s strange. .’ Porfiry pursed his lips as he waited for the right word to come to him.
Virginsky provided it: ‘Hypocrisy.’
Porfiry gave a remonstrative look.
‘What I was going to say,’ began Virginsky again, ‘is that I fear Kozodavlev may be a false trail.’
Porfiry smiled. ‘I am glad you have overcome your reticence. Please continue.’
‘We do not, in point of fact, have anything conclusive linking Kozodavlev to the man in the Winter Canal — the case we are supposed to be investigating, if I may remind you.’
‘We have the word of Apprentice Seaman Ordynov.’
‘Well, yes, we now know that Kozodavlev saw the sailors bring up the body. And that he failed to raise the alarm, as he had said he would. But that does not prove beyond doubt that he knew the man. He may simply have been frightened.’
‘There is also the letter that I received. The letter taken together with Ordynov’s testimony is conclusive.’
‘An anonymous letter.’
‘Handwriting comparisons strongly suggest it was written by him.’
‘You know that handwriting similarities are not conclusive,’ pointed out Virginsky. ‘And are indeed highly circumstantial. The fact is, there may have been someone else there, unnoticed by the sailors. That someone else may be the writer of the anonymous letter and the person who is connected to the body in the canal. It would be a strange coincidence, but it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that this other person has a similar handwriting style to Kozodavlev. You cannot build a case on conjecture based on the similarities of a number of unsigned writing samples. Any half-decent defence lawyer will tear it to shreds. With all due respect, if I may say so, Porfiry Petrovich, it is your vanity that led you to the offices of Affair, where you promptly found what you were looking for.’
‘Vanity? I — ’
Virginsky pressed on. ‘What if the letter was not written by Kozodavlev, after all? If there was someone else there, the writer of the letter, then we have been wasting our time. We are still wasting our time. If the man from the Winter Canal has nothing to do with Kozodavlev, then he has nothing to do with Affair, or Russian Soil, or the novel Swine. Or Prince Dolgoruky — whoever he may be.’
‘He appears to be a distant cousin of the Tsar’s current mistress,’ observed Porfiry tartly.
‘You wish to drag the Tsar into this?’
Porfiry’s expression was panic-stricken. ‘No! Please God, no! It is simply a curious coincidence. I am confident there is nothing more to it than that. The Dolgoruky family has multitudinous offshoots. Indeed, it is a name claimed by many, even those who have no right to it. Perhaps that is the case here with this Dolgoruky of Trudolyubov’s.’ They carried on walking in silence for some moments. ‘So, Pavel Pavlovich. What would you have us do?’
Virginsky gave an ineffectual shrug.
‘Nothing? Drop the case? Is that what you are suggesting?’
‘I fear that we must wait until we have a positive identification of the victim. Until we know for certain who the man in the canal was, we are chasing phantoms.’
‘But we may never have that.’
‘Then the case may never be solved.’
‘I confess I’m disappointed. I was hoping you were about to propose a wager.’
‘You know I do not gamble, Porfiry Petrovich. Particularly when it is to do with the execution of our professional duties. That is to reduce a matter of deadly seriousness to mere sport, is it not?’
‘Once again, I consider myself justifiably rebuked, Pavel Pavlovich.’
They continued several paces in silence.
‘But Kozodavlev is dead,’ ventured Porfiry at last. ‘And if the fire in which he perished was started deliberately, then that too is murder.’
‘But we have not been assigned to that case,’ Virginsky pointed out.
‘And what of the children? Whoever killed Kozodavlev killed them also.’
Virginsky did not reply. The speed with which the colour drained from his face indicated that Porfiry had touched a nerve.
‘You did not go to the graveside. You did not witness the mother’s collapse. She fell forward. Perhaps it was deliberate — she threw herself. At any rate, she had to be pulled out. The father. . the father’s cries. .’ Porfiry broke off. He lit a cigarette before continuing. ‘Have you ever been to the Zoological Gardens, Pavel Pavlovich?’
Virginsky hesitated before replying, ‘Y-yes.’ He was thinking back to Easter Sunday night.
‘His cries were like the bellow of a wounded beast. Such suffering cannot be borne. The landlady too was in a terrible state.’
‘If she had stayed with the children. .’
‘You will blame her? We must find out who lit that fire, Pavel Pavlovich, and bring them to justice. We promised. We promised Yekaterina Ivanovna — or have you forgotten?’
‘You promised.’
‘And you gave your promise too, I seem to remember.’
‘But we are not assigned to it.’ There was a despairing quality to Virginsky’s words, as if he was pleading with Porfiry to leave him alone.
Porfiry considered his junior colleague carefully for a few moments. ‘There is something about Kozodavlev that makes you uncomfortable,’ he said. ‘That you do not wish to look into. That is why you shy away from him.’
‘You are wide of the mark this time, Porfiry Petrovich.’ The despair in Virginsky’s voice tipped over into panic.
Porfiry continued to watch him closely. ‘Quite possibly. . dear boy,’ he said quietly, almost tenderly. They had reached the number of the apartment building where one branch of the Dolgoruky family resided. Porfiry looked up at it regretfully. ‘So what is it to be? Do we just go back to the bureau and wait for someone to recognise our corpse?’ He seemed to be waiting for Virginsky’s permission to enter.