isn’t the… well.. you know, in there…?»
«They’re doing the autopsy at the morgue. It’s more comfy there. I’m sure you understand. In fact, I know you do because I heard that you’ve dealt with this kind of thing before – like when you went hunting that one time.»
Maltsev’s eyes flashed with a spark of rage. The man deflated and turned away. His stooping figure, its sour face, dragged off toward the front entrance.
«And where are we off to?» asked Mayorov.
«To the car, Vanya, to the car.» Valeyev gave his partner a soft push, weighing whether he should tell Petelina about his meeting with the janitor in person or by phone.
Detective Petelina’s head was running in circles. What was Maltseva talking about? Where was she getting this stuff? A gunshot instead of a blow? A handgun instead of a cleaver? A she instead of a he? Drivel – plain and simple. Everything had happened completely differently.
«Go on,» Dr. Krasin whispered to Elena. His expression, however, lacked its former conviction.
Elena discarded all tact and stated directly
«Mrs. Maltseva, last night you did not shoot anyone.» Elena discarded all tact and asserted directly. «Instead, you struck a man with a cleaver!»
«No. I shot a woman with a gun.»
«What woman?»
«The woman in the red car.»
«What car?»
«A red Volvo.»
«You were at home last night.»
«I was in Aprelevka, waiting for her.»
«In Aprelevka?» Elena shook her head helplessly. «Okay, let’s say you really were there. Where then exactly?»
«At 24 Dorozhnaya Street.»
«Are you sure?»
«Yes. There was a sign on the fence that said „24.“»
«And who was it that you shot?»
«The blonde, but she dyes her hair.»
«A bleached blonde? How fascinating! Tell me, how did it all happen?»
«She drove up and got out of her red car. She began to open the green gates. I walked right up to her and shot her in the head. Then, she fell.»
«Where did you get the gun?»
«It’s my dad’s gun. He was in the army.»
«And where is the gun now?»
«I dropped it back there. I didn’t need it anymore.»
«At what time did all this happen?»
«After six. I checked my watch while I was waiting.»
«So according to you, you lay in wait for a woman in order to murder her?»
«I shot her and she fell.»
«What happened then?»
«I got in my car and went home. I thought everything over several times. I was wearing sunglasses so that no one could recognize me. I threw them in the trash. I also threw away the coat and gloves. Did I do it right?»
«What was the woman’s name?»
«I don’t know.»
«You killed a complete stranger?!»
«She was a bad person.»
«Had you met her before?»
«No.»
«Then why did you shoot her?»
Inna clenched her fists and began to batter the table’s edge.
«She’s a whore. A bitch. She doesn’t have the right to live. She humiliated a child. I had to kill her.»
Inna Maltseva was convulsing hysterically. Dr. Krasin quickly moved the detective aside and began counting backwards to bring the patient out of her trance.
When Maltseva had been taken away, Petelina got into the psychiatrist’s face.
«Your hypnosis is utter crap.»
«I wouldn’t say so. And, in your heart of hearts, you do not really think so either. I did everything right. Inna could not have lied under hypnosis. To the contrary, she had to recollect whatever she had blocked out of her memory.»
«She recollected enough nonsense to send my head spinning!»
«I was just trying to help, Detective Petelina.»
«Well, you did quite enough. Thank you for all the extra work.» The detective was gradually regaining her cool. «Do you realize that I am required to corroborate any confession? Even one that’s utter drivel?»
«And what if Inna is telling the truth?»
«Two murders in one day?»
«You should hear some of the stuff I’ve come across in my clinical practice. Like this one time – »
«Please go, Dr. Krasin. I will sign your release; just go.» Elena rapped her fingers on the voice recorder. «I’ve had it up to here with this whole story.»
«As you wish, Detective Petelina.» Krasin put on his mackintosh. «If you need any further assistance with Inna, I will be at your service.»
Recalling the suspect’s troublesome testimony, Elena began massaging her temples and agreed with the psychiatrist, «I’m afraid to say it, but I have a feeling that we’ll meet again.»
13
What to do with the woman’s delirious ravings? Put them on the back burner or check out the details right away?
Detective Petelina preferred to be proactive. From a professional perspective, she had just received new information and now needed to corroborate Inna Maltseva’s testimony. Her hand cultivated mindless ornaments on a sheet of paper.
«Detective Petelina, this is Captain Valeyev reporting!» Valeyev’s cheerful voice through the phone extracted Petelina from her reverie.
Elena glanced at her drawing. The cleaver was distinctly visible among the delicate penciled lines, while the gun’s outline was only vaguely discernible. Elena circled both items, then crossed them out angrily and threw the crumpled paper into the trashcan.
God only knew what was going on. The suspect had confessed and in so doing, all the witness statements, as well as the gathered evidence, had been provided with their logical conclusion. What else did a detective need to consider this case closed? But of course Inna Maltseva had confessed to an entirely different crime: A woman had been killed, instead of a man! The murder took place on a street in Aprelevka, instead of in an apartment in Moscow! The murder weapon was a handgun, instead of a cleaver!
After such unexpected testimony, Petelina was compelled to undertake certain investigative measures to corroborate or repudiate the murder confession. She had already received a part of the necessary data. It had forced her to think very hard. At the moment, Elena was waiting for the final and most important piece of the puzzle.
«It’s hard to find a black cat in a dark room. Especially, if it’s not in the room to begin with,» Valeyev joked.
Elena could hear him smile.
«What are you talking about, Marat?»
«About the not so simple assignment you gave me.»
«Success?» Elena perked up recalling the missing coat. A forensic analysis of micro-fine particles on the clothes could throw this convoluted case wide open. What could be there? Traces of gunpowder? Drops of Anton Maltsev’s blood? Both?
«Success.»
«Well,