Secret Target

Elena entered the spacious living room and nodded to the officer standing sentry. The cop’s brown-green uniform clashed with the room’s heavy, gold-fringed drapes. Cast in semi-darkness, the woman sitting in the deep armchair did not respond to the detective’s appearance. Elena turned on the overhead light. The woman stirred. The large eyes in her haggard face noticed Petelina. This was Inna Maltseva without a doubt, but the photo in the passport resembled the pallid original in the armchair before her about as much as a clear day resembles a foggy morning. Only her shoulder-length, chestnut bob still retained its previous splendor.

«I am Senior Detective Elena Pavlovna Petelina. I am in charge of your case.»

Maltseva did not say anything.

Saturday I’ll dye my hair, Elena made another mental note, noticing the gray roots at the suspect’s scalp. I’ve got grays coming in too. Sooner than I thought.

«Inna, tell me please, what happened between you and your husband?» Elena asked softly.

Maltseva’s chin twitched. She noticed the water on the coffee table, reached for it and looked at her unruly hands with surprise. Handcuffs fettered her bloodied palms. Petelina ordered the cop to remove the cuffs and leave the room. A man with a machine gun isn’t a helpful presence when you’re trying to have a sincere conversation.

Elena handed the glass of water to Inna. The woman drank greedily. Eyes still fixed on the floor. Lips still pursed. A shade of guilt on her face.

The detective decided to begin by stating the current situation.

«Inna Olegovna Maltseva, you have been arrested under suspicion of the premeditated murder of your husband.» Inna raised her eyes imploringly. Petelina repeated her first question in a stricter format, «Why did you kill him?»

Maltseva shook her head.

«I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill Dmitry.»

«The facts suggest otherwise.»

«That wasn’t me. I didn’t touch Dmitry. Please believe me!»

«A criminal investigation is not interested in concepts such as belief. You were found at the scene of the murder.»

«It wasn’t me. I didn’t…»

Petelina decided to force the woman’s stubborn resistance. She left the living room and returned a short while later with the next-door neighbor, a woman of about seventy who clearly took care to maintain her appearance.

«Ms. Broshina, please repeat what you told me earlier,» the detective requested.

«There’s not much to say – it was all quite in the open… The Maltsevs were fighting during the day. Don’t look at me like that Inna! I wasn’t listening on purpose – you know how our walls are! So anyway, in the evening I heard a terrible scream. My Chana began barking and ran to the door. I went to see what it was about. I have an intercom with a screen – you saw it. I look at it and see Inna dart out of the apartment and run off down the stairs. „Uh-oh,“ I thought, „This doesn’t bode well.“ So I called the police.»

«What was Inna Maltseva wearing?»

«A gray, tailored coat. She’s been wearing it a lot lately. Oh, and sunglasses on her face. It’s fall! Why would someone wear sunglasses in the fall?»

«What happened after that?»

«About five minutes later, Inna came running back all of a sudden. Without the coat or glasses this time.»

«Are you sure you remember this correctly? First Maltseva was wearing a coat, then she came back without it.»

«How could I forget? It’s already cold out and she’s walking around in just a shirt.»

«Did anyone enter or leave the Maltsevs’ apartment while she was gone?»

«No, I would’ve seen it. And Chana would’ve sensed it. We were standing on the other side of the door together.»

«Okay. Go on.»

«Why there’s nowhere to go on to. A little later, you people showed up. The door wasn’t locked. They walked 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?»