There are No Ghosts in the Soviet Union

There are No Ghosts in the Soviet Union
Reginald Hill

A superb collection of short stories from Reginald Hill, the award-winning author of the Dalziel and Pascoe novels and ‘the best living male crime writer in the English-speaking world’ (Independent)In suburban Luton, a private detective on his first case discovers that curiosity can kill more than just the cat…Meanwhile, in wartime Boulogne, one officer will do anything to ensure that his men are ready to kill for their country…And in Stalinist Moscow, Inspector Chislenko must find out why three people have just witnessed a 50-year-old murder…From France to Russia, the 1830s to 1916 and the present day, Reginald Hill has crafted half a dozen tantalizing tales of the unexpected, featuring best-loved characters such as Joe Sixmith and, of course, Andy Dalziel and Peter Pascoe.

REGINALD HILL

THERE ARE NO GHOSTS IN THE SOVIET UNION

Copyright (#ulink_c025af66-958d-5483-a51a-edbeb6601cc0)

These stories are entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in them are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

This edition 2007

First published in Great Britain by Collins Crime Club 1987

Copyright © Reginald Hill 1987

Reginald Hill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

Source ISBN: 9780007262984

Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2015 ISBN: 9780007370337

Version: 2015-09-16

Contents

Cover (#u5b3073fe-4098-5310-bde2-8e9616616863)

Title Page (#u01dea68c-e1fb-5869-bef5-911d53bac7bf)

Copyright (#u6e4a5b92-0657-5f64-a5db-c2e7d5f81df3)

There are no Ghosts in The Soviet Union (#u8bdcae61-9ec0-5bcf-bc59-6b1f828c6301)

Bring Back the Cat! (#litres_trial_promo)

The Bull Ring (#litres_trial_promo)

Auteur Theory (#litres_trial_promo)

Poor Emma (#litres_trial_promo)

Crowded Hour (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

By Reginald Hill (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

there are no ghosts in the soviet union (#ulink_20145efc-a26d-5c27-a44b-3e8909cce9f1)

1

For Inspector Lev Chislenko, the affair began on Friday, the thirteenth of July, in a graveyard, but he did not at first think this unlucky.

A man had been spotted behaving suspiciously in the Novodevichy Cemetery which is only a block away from the Gorodok Building. Chislenko answered the call and recognized the man immediately. His name was Starov and he was a black marketeer. He was also a cocky little bastard.

‘What are you doing in the cemetery, Starov?’ asked Chislenko.

‘I like to go places where all men are truly equal,’ replied Starov. ‘I’m thinking of joining the Party.’

‘Why are you carrying two thousand roubles?’

‘It’s money I’ve been collecting for our local old folk’s holiday fund.’

‘Why did you try to run away when the custodian approached you?’

‘He didn’t approach. He jumped out from behind a big marble angel. It’s Friday the thirteenth, remember? That’s a bad kind of date. I thought maybe he was a ghost or something.’

‘There are no ghosts in the Soviet Union,’ said Chislenko unthinkingly.

Starov guffawed and accepted the unintentional invitation to complete the old joke.

‘No, they’ve all been given exit visas to Israel!’

Starov was still laughing when Sub-Inspector Kedin entered. Chislenko had sent him to contact HQ on Petrovka Street to find out what they’d got on Starov. But he returned with other pieces of news.

First, a British tourist had collapsed during a tour of the Novodevichy Convent. When his clothing was loosened to permit first aid, he was found to be wearing six pairs of jeans and twelve T-shirts.

That solved what little mystery surrounded Starov’s intentions.

Secondly, there’d just been an emergency call from the Gorodok Building.

‘A man fell down a lift-shaft from the seventh floor. Or perhaps he was pushed. It seems the caller wasn’t very coherent. Usual emergency services have been dispatched, but I said if they wanted a senior officer in charge, you were just around the corner. Hope you didn’t mind, Chief?’