in and she was lying there… And she had… Heavens! What a sin to have on one’s soul! What were you thinking, Inna?»
Petelina thanked the old lady. As she was seeing her out, it occurred to her that investigative work would go far less smoothly were it not for neighborly vigilance.
«What now, Mrs. Maltseva? It’d be silly to deny the row you had with your husband.» Elena decided to throw the woman a lifeline. «Perhaps your husband beat you or humiliated you or threatened you – and, succumbing to a fit of passion, you grabbed the cleaver..?»
«I didn’t kill him.»
«Then why did you run away?»
«We had a fight and I left.»
«What was your fight about?»
«I think my husband is seeing someone.»
Elena recalled her own cheating husband, with whom she had separated four years ago. She sat down in a chair across from Maltseva and tried to look her in the eyes.
«That hurts, I understand. But if we women killed every flirtatious husband, the nation’s military casualties would start to seem like child’s play in comparison. Why did you decide to pick up the cleaver?»
«I didn’t kill him. I took the car and went wherever my eyes were looking. Later I came back and saw his legs.»
«You couldn’t have gone anywhere because you returned five minutes after leaving.»
«I went for the drive earlier.»
«In your coat?»
«Probably,» Maltseva faltered.
«Where is it then? We haven’t found a gray coat in your apartment.»
Petelina did not fail to notice how flustered Inna became, how she looked down and began fumbling with her fingers, still stained with her husband’s blood. She still had on shoes suited for fall weather because she really had been outside and yet her coat had vanished. This was the very inconsistency that had so invited the detective’s attention earlier.
«Where is your coat!» Elena pressed harder.
Her experience told her that the slightest inconsistency in a murder investigation could reveal the most unexpected turn. She watched Maltseva’s facial expression intently.
«I got it dirty.»
You’re lying, Petelina thought to herself.
«I tripped and got it dirty, so I threw it away,» said Maltseva.
«Was it a new coat?»
«Yes.»
«And you threw it away?»
«Yes.»
«Where?»
«In the trash.»
«A new coat – in the trash. Where exactly?»
«Next to the house,» confessed Inna, looking earnestly in the detective’s eyes.
But now, you’re telling the truth. You really couldn’t have gone far in five minutes.
Petelina heard Captain Valeyev’s voice from the hallway. He was looking for her. Elena decided to continue exerting pressure and invited the field operative into the room with them.
«Did you have a look around?» she asked.
«Mayorov and I combed the district within a five minute radius from the house.» The operative cast Maltseva an unkind look. «Only, there’s no coat anywhere – or glasses for that matter.»
«Did you look in the trash bins?»
«We checked them first.»
«Did you find the Maltsevs’ cars?»
«They’re parked down there. Both of them.»
«Find the keys and check inside the cars. Where do you keep the car keys, Mrs. Maltseva?»
Maltseva looked around the room dazedly.
«My purse.»
«Marat, look in the entryway. And another thing: If that coat was nice, someone could have fished it from the trash. Ask the building janitor about it.»
«What, like right now? Janitors usually work in the mornings. Where am I going to find him at this time of day?»
«Either way, it needs to be done,» Petelina smiled warmly. «I believe in you Marat.»
«Well alright,» the captain acquiesced and walked out.
In his wake, Misha Ustinov peeked into the room. Based on the sly look on his face, Petelina understood that he had something interesting for her.
«Detective Petelina, I am ready to make a preliminary finding,» he said with a cold look at the arrested woman.
«You can speak here, Misha.»
«Mrs. Maltseva’s smudged fingerprints are on the cleaver. The blood on her hands is that of the deceased and the time of death coincides with the time that the neighbor called the police.»
«It all fits.»
«Your run-of-the-mill domestic dispute – it’s not even interesting. Of course, I’ll examine the secondary evidence as well, but that will only help to fill in the general picture.»
«It wasn’t me!» Maltseva began to shake her head and cry. Long stray hairs stuck to her tearstained cheeks.
Petelina sighed. She was getting sick of this cheap spectacle. The evidence was unequivocal, as were the witness accounts. The detective’s voice adopted a crueler tone.
«Enough, Mrs. Maltseva! You would be better served by a confession.»
The woman continued to whimper. Petelina bent down to her.
«You quarreled with your husband, decided to leave, got dressed but he insulted you. That’s when you ran to the kitchen and grabbed the cleaver! He didn’t expect the blow and you killed him. Then, terrified, you fled the apartment, noticed the drops of blood on your coat once you were in the courtyard, threw it away and, at that point, remembered the main piece of evidence. The cleaver! So you came back for it, but when you saw what you had done, you fainted.»
«Not much to it. Remember what I said when we first got here?» Ustinov looked at his watch meaningfully. «I’m done here. Oh, by the way, they’ve come for the body. Are we ready to send it to autopsy?»
«Let them take it,» said Petelina, still drilling into Maltseva with her eyes. «Did I get it right?»
Inna raised her hands. Her eyes were darting back and forth between the palms stained with dry blood and the detective’s face.
«Blood. His blood. Help me wash my hands,» she began to shift, becoming agitated. «I didn’t throw the coat away because there was blood on it. There is no blood on it! Where is my coat? Find it!»
«Please get ahold of yourself.» Elena was beginning to feel sorry for her. The woman had given in to her emotions and committed a fatal mistake. As long as she remained in shock there was no point talking to her. «Here, have some more water. We’ll resume this tomorrow.»
Instead of drinking, Maltseva poured the water out over her hands and began to compulsively rub them with a handkerchief.
From the hallway came the sound of something being moved. The body was being taken to the morgue. Slowly, the shuffling receded beyond the apartment.
All of a sudden, Ms. Broshina’s exclamation pierced the room.
«That isn’t him. That’s not Maltsev!»
Inna jumped up. Petelina managed to grab her in time but couldn’t hold her back. Both women found themselves side-by-side in the landing beside the body. The dead man’s face was now clearly visible. There was no agony on it, just a look of pain