Stalin’s Ghost Read Online Free PDF Page B

don’t know who shouted first. As instructed, we separated the positive witnesses from the rest of the passengers and held them until we were called out on this case.”
    The forensic team announced that they were finished with the kitchen and moving to the bathroom, where shiny surfaces beckoned.
    Arkady waited until the techs had passed before saying, “Your report was a little sketchy.”
    “The prosecutor didn’t want an official report,” Isakov said.
    Urman was puzzled. “Why all the fucking questions? We’re on the same side, aren’t we?”
    Don’t complicate things, Arkady told himself. This wasn’t his case. Get out of the apartment.
    A whimper sounded from another room.
    “Who is that?”
    “It’s the wife.”
    “She’s here?”
    “In the bedroom. Take a look, but watch where you step.”
    Arkady went down a hall littered with newspapers, pizza boxes and KFC tubs to a bedroom where the squalor was deep enough it seemed to float. A redheaded woman in a housedress was handcuffed to the bed. She rose out of an alcoholic stupor, legs and arms spread, hands in plastic bags. An array of blood spots covered the front of her dress. Arkady pushed up her sleeves. Her flesh was slack but by a comparison of forearms she was right-handed.
    “How do you feel?”
    “They took the dragon.”
    “They took what?”
    “It’s our dragon.”
    “You have a dragon?”
    The mental effort was too much and she sank back into incoherence.
    He returned to the kitchen.
    “Someone took her dragon.”
    “We heard it was elephants,” Urman said.
    “Why is she still here?”
    Isakov said, “Waiting for an ambulance. She already confessed. We hoped she could reenact the crime for the video camera.”
    “She should be seen by a doctor and in a cell. Save the housedress. How long have you two been detectives in Moscow?”
    “A year.” Urman had lost his good humor.
    “You moved over to detective level direct from the Black Berets? From Hostage Rescue to Criminal Investigation?”
    “Maybe they bent the rules for Captain Isakov,” Urman said. “Why the fuss? We have a murder and a confession. It’s two plus two, right?”
    “With one swing. She must have had a steady hand,” Arkady said.
    “Just lucky, I guess.”
    “Do you mind?” Arkady stepped behind the dead man for a different perspective. One arm still stretched out for the glass. Without touching, Arkady studied the wrist for bruising from, say, being clamped down by a stronger man while a blow was struck.
    Urman said, “I’ve heard about you, Renko. People say you like to stick your dick in. We didn’t have time for people like you in the Black Berets. Second guessers. What are you looking for now?”
    “Resistance.”
    “To what? Do you see any bruises?”
    “Did you try a UV scan?”
    “What is this shit?”
    “Marat.” Isakov shook his head. “Marat, the investigator is only asking questions born of experience. There’s no reason to be taking it personally. He’s not.” He asked as if making sure, “You’re not taking this personally are you, Renko?”
    “No.”
    Isakov didn’t smile, but he did seem amused. “Now, Renko, you’ll have to excuse us if we work our own case our own way. Is there anything else you want to know?”
    “Why were you so certain the glass held vodka? Did you just assume it?”
    There was still some in the glass. Urman dipped his first and middle fingers and licked them. He dipped the fingers a second time and offered them to Arkady. “You can suck them if you want.”
    Arkady ignored Urman and asked Isakov, “So you’re satisfied what you have here is an ordinary domestic homicide due to vodka, snow and cabin fever?”
    “And love,” Isakov said. “The wife says she loved him. Most dangerous words in the world.”
    “So you think love leads to murder,” Arkady said.
    “Let’s hope not.”
     
    Snow packed on the windshield. At five minutes before the Metro doors opened, Arkady didn’t have time to