A Razor Wrapped in Silk (41 page)

‘You are Alexei Ivanovich, I believe?’ began Porfiry.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Alexei Ivanovich held his head angled backwards, as if detaching himself from his surroundings, the better to observe them.

‘The deceased, General Mizinchikov, was your uncle? And this gentleman is your cousin?’

‘Correct.’

‘Are you related on your father’s or your mother’s side?’

‘Mother’s.’

‘Ah, yes, I remember the general made reference to the fecundity of his sisters. Your family name is?’

‘Zahlebinin.’

‘And it was you who found General Mizinchikov on the stairs?’

‘That is correct.’

‘He was dead when you found him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you qualified to make such a pronouncement?’

‘I have studied natural science. I felt for a pulse. And found none. I saw the wound on his head.’

‘And you urged your cousin to hand himself over to the authorities?’

‘I did.’

‘Why? Did you believe him to be his father’s murderer?’

‘I knew that he had attacked his father and that his father now lay dead.’

‘Did you not ascertain from talking to Captain Mizinchikov where exactly his violent quarrel with his father took place?’

‘My cousin was barely coherent. His account of what had taken place was confused. I limited myself to the facts, as I perceived them.’

‘He does not seem confused or incoherent now.’

‘He had not eaten for days. That is a circumstance that I have since rectified.’

‘Captain Mizinchikov and his father quarrelled inside the apartment. General Mizinchikov was found dead on the stairs outside the apartment.’

Alexei Ivanovich seemed overjoyed by this discrepancy. ‘Then Kostya did not kill him?’

‘We can at least say that General Mizinchikov was alive when Captain Mizinchikov left him. Alive and well enough to walk outside his apartment to the stairs. Where he may well have suffered a heart attack or a fatal accident. Or …’

‘Or what?’ asked Alexei Ivanovich uneasily.

‘Or some other person may have pushed him down the stairs.’

Alexei Ivanovich’s face flushed a deep shade of crimson. ‘You think I did it?’

‘There is the question of the will.’

‘Yes. The will. But as the will stands, Kostya will inherit his father’s fortune. My uncle did not get round to changing it. I had nothing to gain from this death. In fact, it would have been better for me if he had stayed alive a little longer … long enough to change his will in my favour.’

‘Except that you did not want him to change the will. You wanted the money to go to Kostya. You took your cousin’s side and you hated your uncle as any man would hate a miser and an unnatural father. So you killed him before he was able to write Kostya out of his will. You knew very well where the argument had taken place – and therefore you trusted that no charges would be brought against your cousin, once it was realised that his father was strong enough to stand up and walk away from where he had fallen. And yet you also knew that Captain Mizinchikov had to be prevailed upon to hand himself in, because as an outlaw he would not be able to access his fortune. Of course there is the matter of the other crimes of which he stands accused. Perhaps you acted in the heat of the moment, or perhaps you took a calculated gamble. You must have followed the details of the investigation in the newspapers. Taking the hint from a recent article, you believed that the authorities would be lenient in their treatment of your cousin in relation to the murder of Yelena Filippovna. There was still the charge of desertion – but a dishonourable discharge from his regiment would not prevent him from inheriting. You yourself would have been immune from suspicion – or so you believed – because of the lack of motive. I must point out to you that
you were very quick to present the argument concerning the will.’

‘And all this you have deduced from
what
?’ demanded Alexei Ivanovich incredulously.

‘From your plaid travelling cloak.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘And your student cap. And your studies in natural science. You are, are you not, a nihilist?’

‘I do not accept the term.’

‘Neither do you accept traditional notions of morality. You felt the injustice of your uncle’s position towards your cousin, and you determined to do something about it when you had the chance. Is that not so?’

‘Porfiry Petrovich?’ interrupted Virginsky questioningly. ‘Dr Pervoyedov wears a plaid coat. Indeed, many people wear plaid. Will you accuse them all of being nihilists and murderers?’

‘We are not discussing Dr Pervoyedov. We are not discussing other people. Furthermore, no one detail is to be taken in isolation. Everything must be considered together. This may be considered a clever, opportunistic, but essentially altruistic crime – inasmuch as the perpetrator did not directly benefit from its commission, but someone else did. A selfless crime, if you like. Someone who dons the trappings of the radical youth, and is present at the scene of the crime, must come under strong suspicion.’

‘But you cannot prove any of this. Is it not equally possible that the old man simply fell?’

‘Oh yes,’ agreed Porfiry with delight. ‘Equally, eminently possible.’ Noting Alexei Ivanovich’s confusion, Porfiry went on: ‘I’m not interested in proving anything. Only you know
what happened. And if I am right, you know what you must do. If I
am
right, you have this crime, this sin on your soul. It should be you who falls to his knees and kisses the ground, preferably in front of a church.’

‘But I am a nihilist! Or so you claim. What do I care about my soul?’

‘You may not care, Alexei Ivanovich, but I do.’

‘Well, if you
are
right, and I murdered my own uncle, a man who intended to make me the heir of his fortune, does that not make me a rather dangerous individual? Can you permit me to remain at large, free to commit other crimes?’

‘Are you now urging me to arrest you?’

‘I don’t know.’ After an uncertain pause, Alexei Ivanovich added: ‘I admit nothing.’

‘But you are a little afraid of yourself now, aren’t you? And more than a little afraid of the world you have created by this act.’

‘I admit nothing.’

‘Of course you don’t. But that is not the same as saying you did not do it. Forgive me, Alexei Ivanovich. I do not usually conduct my investigations so directly, so bluntly, you might say. But we are in the middle of several other investigations here and General Mizinchikov’s death comes as something of a distraction. It’s rather inconvenient, if I may be frank. Naturally, I am pleased that it has led to Captain Mizinchikov’s surrender, and I am grateful to you for engineering that. I trust that you will consider what we have discussed and do whatever you consider necessary.’

‘I am free to go?’

‘Do you wish to go?’

‘I don’t understand. This is not what I expected.’

‘If you are innocent, none of this need trouble you. If you are guilty, I am sure we will meet again. Perhaps soon. I would only say, please don’t kill anyone else. I would consider it rather bad form if you did.’

‘This is some kind of magistrate’s technique – a trick of yours!’ Alexei Ivanovich’s face was suddenly shadowed with anxiety and suspicion.

‘No. It is simply that I am in a hurry and there are some questions I must put to your cousin. I have not the time to interrogate you properly now. Therefore I am enlisting your
conscience
in my service.’ Porfiry stressed the word, as if to emphasise how much he was relying on this faculty. ‘I am sure it will not let me down.’

‘Alyosha …’ Captain Mizinchikov’s intervention was mild and almost wistful, but nonetheless powerful. There was the gentlest note of reproach in his voice. ‘If you did this thing, if you did it for me, you must see, I cannot accept the money. I cannot benefit from this act. And I urge you, as you urged me, I urge you, to bare your soul. To confess.’

‘He fell, that’s all. I did not push him, I simply … let go.’

‘You let go.’ Porfiry carefully kept any note of interrogation out of his voice. He reassured rather than questioned.

‘He was unsteady, unbalanced. I was holding him up at the top of the stairs. He shouted something … something disgusting, hateful, inhuman. It was the act of a moment – I let go. He fell. I did not push him. I don’t think I pushed him. Might I have?’

‘Please sit down, my friend.’ Porfiry gestured to the sofa. ‘Perhaps you would like to put your feet up and rest a while? Such exertions as this are invariably tiring.’

‘Yes, thank you. I will.’

Alexei Ivanovich staggered over to the brown sofa upholstered in artificial leather – American leather, as it was called. He fell onto it and drew his knees up, turning his back on the other men in the room. He was heard to mutter, ‘I admit nothing.’ Seconds after, he had dozed off.

37

Playing parts

‘What will happen to him?’ asked Captain Mizinchikov in an awed whisper. He stared in bewilderment at his slumbering cousin.

‘Don’t worry about him.’

Mizinchikov turned a fearful gaze on Porfiry. ‘Can you make anyone confess to anything?’

‘No.’ Porfiry smiled reassuringly. After a moment, he began afresh, adopting a crisp, almost officious tone that belied his denial: ‘I would like to ask you about the events at the Naryskin Palace on the night of Yelena Filippovna’s death. You must know that we have wanted to speak to you for a long time. It is to be regretted that you did not come forward before now, especially if, as you say, you are innocent of her murder.’

Mizinchikov glanced back nervously at his cousin.

‘
Please
don’t worry about him. He will sleep until he is ready to face the consequences of his act. I wish to talk about you now.’

‘I had her blood all over my uniform.’

‘Ah yes, the blood. Can you explain how it got there?’

‘No, I cannot. One minute it was not there, the next it was.’

‘Can you describe precisely what happened? Where were you when you noticed the blood on your tunic?’

‘I was in Lena’s dressing room.’

‘Tell me what you saw when you entered the room.’

‘Lena … lying on the carpet. There was blood everywhere. Aglaia Filippovna must have come into the room behind me. I turned round and she was there. Her face was frozen in horror. She was pointing at me. She looked as though she was screaming but nothing … no sound came out. I looked down at where she was pointing … to see fresh blood all over my tunic.’

‘How close to you was she standing?’

‘I don’t remember. The details are vague now.’

‘It is a small room. She must have been very close, if you were both in the room.’

‘Yes, I suppose she was.’

Porfiry rose from his chair and walked around the desk to join Captain Mizinchikov. ‘Would you care to stand up?’

The captain got to his feet falteringly.

‘I shall be Aglaia Filippovna,’ said Porfiry. ‘Pavel Pavlovich, would you take the part of Yelena Filippovna?’

Virginsky came forward from the corner of the room where he had been standing, an amused expression on his face. It seemed that he was enjoying his work this afternoon. ‘If you insist.’

‘I do. Lie down on the floor there, if you please.’

Virginsky lay on his back with his arms crossed over his chest.

‘No, no, no. That’s not right. She didn’t have her arms like that.’

Virginsky turned half on his side and disposed his limbs about him in an approximation of the cork-screwed sprawl of Yelena Filippovna’s body.

‘And you, Captain Mizinchikov, can you remember where you were standing in relation to the body?’

Mizinchikov stepped around Virginsky to stand on his right.

‘And so, you had your back to the door, which for the purposes of our reconstruction we shall imagine to be here.’ Porfiry described a rectangle in the air and stepped through it. ‘I am in the room now, with you. And I am pointing at you. Is this how it was?’

‘You were closer than that, I think. Your hand was almost touching me.’

Porfiry moved a step closer to Mizinchikov.

‘Like this?’

‘Yes, except your hand was not raised at first. I turned and saw you, then your hand went up. I looked down at where you were pointing, and the blood was there.’

‘What happened next?’

‘I ran from the room in panic.’

‘Was not Aglaia Filippovna in your way?’

‘No. She was to one side of the door.’

‘Very well. You ran out.’

‘Yes, and on the way out I ran into Bakhmutov.’

‘There was no one else in the room?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure of that? Did you look behind the screen? Or behind the door? The door opens inwards, I seem to remember.’

‘I don’t know. I was not thinking about the door.’

‘What about the looking glass? Did you see any blood on the glass?’ Porfiry pointed to an imaginary mirror.

‘On the glass?’ Mizinchikov looked where Porfiry was pointing as if to study the non-existent mirror, which seemed to strike him as an infinitely strange object. ‘I cannot say. I did not look in the glass.’

‘Did you touch Yelena Filippovna’s body at any point?’

‘No … I … I panicked. You should have seen Aglaia’s face. Such hatred. She clearly believed that I had killed her sister. I didn’t know what to do. No one knows what he will do in such a situation until … I ran. I ran from the palace. Someone had killed my Yelena. Naryskin. It must have been Naryskin. I couldn’t think straight. I needed time to think.’ Captain Mizinchikov’s eyes flitted wildly, the panic still raw within them.

‘Please go on.’

‘Outside, I encountered a strange tramp. He accosted me. He seemed drunk. Very drunk. He was reciting lines from Boris Godunov. Or at least I think that’s what it was. He wanted to know if I had seen Prince Bykov. It was dark. The man couldn’t see the blood on my tunic, or he was too far gone to care. I gave him a rouble for his coat, such as it was, and swapped it for my tunic. I threw away my shako outside the palace and then ditched my sabre in the river. I don’t know where I spent that first night. On a barge, I think, lying in straw. Nothing made any sense. None of it made any sense.’