Dangerous Evidence

“Yes, we are looking for a Boris Manuylov alias Birdless. He’s the pimp and known associate of one Ekaterina Grebenkin, who died yesterday under mysterious circumstances.”

“Well, your Manuylov has turned up. He won’t be able to answer your questions, though. He’s missing more than just a finger these days: Part of his head is gone too. He was shot point blank while sitting in his car last night.”

“Last night?”

“Yes. I’m putting you on that case as well, Lena. The evidence gathered during the preliminary examination will be delivered promptly. I reckon that the pimp’s murder and the death of his, erm, employee are somehow related. It’s only logical you work both cases. What do you say? Is this a present or just the opposite?”

“Well, for Captain Valeyev and Senior Lieutenant Mayorov here this certainly is a present. There’s no need to go chasing after a dead man, after all.”

16

On the screen of his video intercom, General Konstantin Viktorovich Bayukin beheld a tall man of forty years in an unbuttoned car coat and long scarf. The man’s immaculate coif, his self-assured and somewhat insolent look, his excellent clothes – the high collar on his white dress shirt had been drawn tight around his throat by the necktie – and his leather briefcase, all contributed to the impression that this was a very successful man indeed. The general recognized lawyer Denis Gomelsky and opened his door.

“Mr. Gomelsky, at last!”

An exquisite fragrance of perfume sneaked into the apartment behind the lawyer.

“Good day to you, General Bayukin.” Gomelsky passed confidently into the living room, deposited his hefty, expensive briefcase onto the sofa and plunked down beside it. “I must admit that your request came as somewhat of a surprise.”

“Circumstances,” Bayukin spread his arms haplessly.

“I did the due diligence and found out who the detective in charge of the Ekaterina Grebenkina case is. The detective’s name is Elena Pavlovna Petelina. An intelligent, meticulous and beautiful woman they call ‘the Noose,’” said Gomelsky, referencing the nickname, a pun on petlya (Russian for “noose”) with which the felons had christened Petelina. “That is, if she pulls the case around your throat – you won’t squirm your way out.”

“You are familiar with her?”

“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her, personally.” The lawyer smiled enigmatically, as though recalling some racy affair, but instantly regained his former composure. “I think however that, now, it is my turn to ask the questions. Why are you interested in the Grebenkina case? The girl either jumped off the roof or someone helped her. If I am not mistaken, the girl’s only gainful occupation was prostitution.”

“You are not mistaken. Moreover, I personally made use of her services. The day before her death, Katya was with me and…”

“Finish your thought, General Bayukin. One should keep no secrets from one’s doctor and from one’s lawyer. Sooner or later, your most secret sins, your most noisome ailments, will surface and if by then it is too late, then neither your lawyer nor your doctor will be able to help you.”

“Well, the issue is a bit delicate…”

“What are you afraid of? Did the prostitute have some kind of compromising information about you? Did you incite her to commit suicide? Were you perhaps on the roof with her when she did it?”

“I only spent time with her here. I was an ordinary client, as far as she went.”

“What is it that worries you then? Your colleagues’ whispering or the retribution of some former spouse?”

“I don’t even know how to begin to explain the matter.”

“I can see that you are agitated. Please start with the main problem that is tormenting you.”

“Well, alright,” the general said decisively and called to the closed door to the neighboring room. “Alex!”

Bayukin Jr. emerged into the living room.

“This is my son Aleksey. He is a captain in the armed forces,” the general introduced his son. “He came to Moscow yesterday and I asked him to find Katya’s pimp in order to resolve a certain little problem. He found him and…”

“Battered him?”

“An accidental gunshot, you understand… Basically, the pimp is dead and Aleksey is wounded in his shoulder.”

A wrinkle of displeasure cut through the lawyer’s face. Denis Gomelsky stood up and circled Alex Bayukin as if trying to commit his 3D image to memory.

“Recount to me in detail: where, when and how did this happen?” he asked.

Somewhat unwillingly, Alex related the incident outside of the Wild Kitties strip club.

“And you’re sure the pimp’s dead?” the lawyer inquired. When it came to common criminals – as opposed to his more vaunted, white-collar clients – Denis Gomelsky felt comfortable to speak informally and directly.

“The bullet went clean through his head. Instant death.”

“The gun. How’d you get it?”

“It’s from my unit. It’s a Yarygin Pistol. It was issued and registered to me, but I claimed that it had been lost in combat, so I could have a piece of my own.”

“A Yarygin Pistol? That’s a comparatively new model.”

“Yes, they’ve been issuing them for a few years now. Almost all of our officers has one.”

“Officers! Not criminals! Did the casing remain in the car?”

“I, uh, I didn’t really think at the time – ”

“They’ll find the casing. It’ll lead them to the gun and from the gun to you! It could have been possible to use the combat loss as an excuse, but you’ve already made a whole heap of mistakes! You publicized your pursuit of the pimp, you displayed the gun in the club, and you talked to the taxi driver. In other words, you left a trail of witnesses in your wake, who will all happily identify you!”

“I only wanted to scare him a little! Someone shot me and my finger twitched!”

“Who was the third person in the pimp’s car? Do you know him?”

“Some guy aged about fifty. I heard him refer to the whore as his daughter. He too had a gun on him. He shot me and wounded me in the shoulder.”

“Alright. Now let’s talk about your wound. Where were you treated?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. My mother came to pick me up. She is a doctor and she won’t say anything. The bullet merely grazed me. I feel better already.”

“Better,” the lawyer shook his head acerbically. “You’re in it now!”

“Mr. Gomelsky, will you be able to defend Aleksey?” asked the worried general. “He isn’t guilty. The whore’s father fired first.”

“If you are so certain about his innocence, you are welcome to file a confession.”

“Mr. Gomelsky, I am coming to you as a professional. This is all at least partially my fault. Please help us. I am ready to pay whatever you like.”

“Okay. I know a thing or two from taking on criminal cases in St. Petersburg. The lesson here is that, right after the accidental shooting, you should have called me! It’s far cheaper to solve the problem by dealing with the operatives when they’re first collecting evidence in the field. No evidence – no case – no problem! But now, much will depend on which detective is assigned to the case. Some of them are amenable, while others… But okay! First thing to do is find out who it is.”

The lawyer got his phone, stepped out into the kitchen and shut the door tightly behind him. He returned ten minutes later.