“When you say ‘we’?”
“Myself and my daughter, Sofiya Sergeyevna. Marfa Denisovna was with us.” There was a slight beat before she added, “And Osip Maximovich.”
“I see.”
“Vadim Vasilyevich was there too.” She added this hopefully.
“Please. Tell me what happened.”
“Borya.” Her voice was heavy as she said the name.
“I see.”
“Borya was there. That is to say, I think he must have followed us. He was not of our party. Or perhaps it was a coincidence, meeting him there like that.”
“Like what?”
“He was drunk. That is the only explanation there can be for his behavior.”
“What did he do?”
“We had set up the picnic in a slight dip in the land, a hollow surrounded by birch. The others had gone for a walk. I was tired. I stayed to read my novel. Borya suddenly appeared. From nowhere. He stumbled and almost fell on top of me. He…”
“There is no need to be afraid. It can only help you if you tell the truth.”
Anna Alexandrovna’s expression was momentarily outraged. “He declared feelings for me. He told me he loved me.”
“And how did you react to his declaration?”
“He was a yardkeeper!” Her eyes widened.
“He was a man.”
“Please.”
“You rebuffed him?”
“It was horrible! He was drunk. Am I to be the object of the yardkeeper’s drunken affections?”
“Did anyone else see him?”
“No. No! Thankfully.”
“Can you be sure?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
“And what of Stepan Sergeyevich? Was he with you that day?”
“No.”
“Stepan Sergeyevich…” Porfiry repeated the name musingly. Anna Alexandrovna frowned. “Your daughter’s name is…?”
“Sofiya.”
“Sofiya Sergeyevna.”
“Yes.”
“Your husband, then, was Sergei?”
“Sergei Pavlovich. What are you suggesting?”
“Sergeyevna…Sergeyevich.”
“This really is preposterous.”
“The coincidence of patronyms is striking.”
“It’s just a coincidence.”
“Is it not true that your husband felt some obligation toward Stepan Sergeyevich? That’s why he had him come to live in the house, isn’t it?”
“I really cannot answer for my husband.”
Porfiry nodded decisively. “Do you think it possible that Stepan Sergeyevich taunted Borya about the feelings he felt toward you? Could that have been the cause of the argument?”
“I…” The angle of her averted face quickened his pulse.
“Or were they rivals, perhaps?”
“Please!” cried Anna Alexandrovna. “In one breath you are suggesting that he was my husband’s son, in the next that he was my lover.”
Porfiry’s bow was very close to an affirmative nod.
Suddenly, the double doors to the drawing room parted, revealing the portly, bespectacled figure of Osip Maximovich Simonov. His face was determined, antagonistic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“Osip Maximovich,” gasped Anna Alexandrovna. “Thank God!” She rushed toward him as he came into the room. Her out-held hands came to nothing. She turned from him, almost chastened.
“Sir, I demand an explanation,” said Osip Maximovich, and closed the doors behind him.
“I am conducting an investigation into the murders of three people.”
“And you suspect Anna Alexandrovna?”
“It is important to establish the truth. You should know that, sir, as the publisher of philosophical works.”
“Anna Alexandrovna is a respectable woman. You have no right to come here with your insinuating questions.”
“How do you know my questions were insinuating? Were you listening at the door?” asked Porfiry with a smile that strained to be pleasant.
“I am not a fool, sir. I can very well imagine the kind of filthy questions you were asking.”
“Believe me, please, when I say that no one regrets the necessity of asking such questions more than I.”
“Then do not ask them.”
“I’m afraid it’s my job.”
“It is not a job for a gentleman.”
“Perhaps not. It is a necessary job, all the same.”
“But to persecute Anna Alexandrovna!”
A thought seemed to occur suddenly to Porfiry. “I wonder, Osip Maximovich, do you believe a gentleman would be capable of murder?”
“There is no saying what any one of us is capable of, I am sure,” Osip Maximovich answered huffily. “It would be absurd to deny that murders have been committed by members of the gentry.”
“But would a gentleman use an axe?” Porfiry’s tone was arch.
“Wasn’t there indeed such a case recently? The student who took an axe to those sisters.”
“But the axe is more a weapon we would associate with the peasantry, do you not agree? More the sort of weapon someone like Borya would choose?”
“I suppose so.”
“I wonder what weapon a gentleman would choose. Or a gentlewoman, for that matter.”
“I take it you have finished questioning Anna Alexandrovna. In which case, may I suggest that it is time that you left?”
“I have one more question and a request. Anna Alexandrovna, do you have any idea how Borya came to be in possession of six thousand rubles?”
“Borya? I do not-” Her eyes flitted in confusion. The color drained from her face. “I have no idea,” she added without conviction, her gaze plummeting.
“He must have stolen it. It’s as simple as that,” said Osip Maximovich. He tried to flash reassurance toward her.
Porfiry made no comment on this theory, except to say, “It is a lot of money.” He watched Anna Alexandrovna closely, noting her discomfiture.
“Have you finished?” asked Osip Maximovich curtly.
“Yes, except for my request. I would like Anna Alexandrovna to write something for me.”
“You really do suspect her! Meanwhile the real murderer-”
“What do you wish me to write?” asked Anna Alexandrovna. Although she spoke decisively, there was once again a fatalistic weight to her voice.
“It really doesn’t matter. My only requirement is that you write it on your own personal stationery.”
“Osip Maximovich,” said Anna Alexandrovna, placing a hand to her forehead. “Will you ring for Katya, please?”
KATYA BROUGHT the paper on a wooden tray. Immediately Porfiry noticed that the stationery’s lilac shade matched exactly that of the envelope in which the six thousand rubles had been found.
Katya’s step was brisk and disapproving. She did not look at Porfiry. In her wake, held back by her timidity but drawn despite it into the room, was a girl of about thirteen or fourteen. Porfiry saw the imprint of Anna Alexandrovna in her features. But youth made her beauty heedless.
The girl rushed out from behind Katya toward her mother and cried, “Mamma!”
“It’s all right, darling.” Anna Alexandrovna reached an arm around her daughter’s shawled shoulders. She stooped to kiss her forehead, then nodded firmly and released her.
At Sofiya Sergeyevna’s entrance, Osip Maximovich turned his back and moved away to a window. He gave the impression of losing interest.
Katya placed the tray on the low mahogany table from which Porfiry had once drunk tea. There was a pen and a pot of ink on the tray with the paper.
“So I may write anything?” said Anna Alexandrovna, taking her seat on the sofa by the table.
Porfiry bowed.
“But I can think of nothing,” she confessed.
“In that case, may I suggest, ‘Do you remember the summer?’” said Porfiry Petrovich.
Anna Alexandrovna looked up at him questioningly but without reproach. She then looked to Osip Maximovich, only to find he still had his back to her. Her head bowed hesitantly, and she took up the pen. She handed the note to Porfiry. He studied it briefly before pocketing it.
“And so this farce is at an end?” said Osip Maximovich, returning abruptly from the window. “You have all you need?”