Secret Target

«Mr. Maltsev, I am in charge of investigating felonies – particularly serious ones. Currently I am working on a brutal murder.» Elena placed photographs of the body with the staved-in head on the table and asked, «Is this your doing?»

As she had expected, Maltsev sobered up in a flash.

«Why mine?» he became afraid.

«Have another look. Do you recognize him?»

«Anton…»

«Do you recognize where the photos were taken?»

«In my apartment – that’s my bathrobe – »

«Precisely! Why did you kill your brother?»

«I didn’t kill him! Who did this?»

«I am confident that it was you!» the detective continued to apply pressure.

«No!» Maltsev jerked away.

«Your brother got out of prison. You had a drink of brandy, got into a quarrel, then made peace – it’s a normal sequence of events. But you harbored a grudge. And when Anton went to the bathroom, you hit him with a cleaver.»

«No! We had a drink with Anton – that part’s true. But I left after that. I had to catch a train to St. Petersburg! I have a meeting there tomorrow, I mean, today.»

«Start at the beginning.»

«Of course… Where should I start?»

«Your quarrel with your wife.»

«Inna told you about that? You’ve got to understand, Inna and I haven’t been on the best of terms lately. She’ll say something, I’ll say something back – it’s stop and go. I don’t even know what caused it this time. She threatened to divorce me and I swore she wouldn’t get a penny, so she stormed out and slammed the door.»

«Does your wife have a job?»

«What are you talking about! When we met, Inna was a primary school teacher. No money – just stress. She quit her job about two years later. I insisted on it.»

«At what time did Inna leave the house?»

«I came back from work at two because I had to go to St. Petersburg that evening. She stormed out about an hour later probably.»

«What was she wearing?»

«You think I remember? She buys so much crap!»

«Try your hardest.»

«Detective Petelina, may I have some more coffee?» Maltsev glanced at the kettle longingly.

He calmed down fast. His brother’s death didn’t shock him, Petelina noted as she poured the coffee.

How would he respond to more precise information about his brother’s death? Elena had spent eighteen years looking for Anatoly and had seen many bodies. She was mentally prepared to deal with the loss of a loved one. At this point, she would have been more shocked if she met her brother alive. In any case, she was compelled to discover what happened, where he disappeared to, who was responsible.

«How did it happen? Did you catch the killer?» Maltsev suddenly asked, as though having read the detective’s mind.

«Mr. Maltsev, you are currently at an official interrogation about a murder case. Therefore, as banal as this may sound, I’m the one who asks the questions here. I would like to know what kind of coat your wife was wearing as she left your apartment yesterday.»

«She just put on some coat. Wait – that’s it! It was gray and speckled. She just got it recently.»

«What time did Inna return?»

«If she did, I wasn’t there. I haven’t seen her since.»

«Did you know that Anton Maltsev was being released?»

«I knew that he was supposed to get out one of these days. He was serving his time in Koma and I figured it would take him some time to get back to Moscow. Then suddenly, there he was. It was around five.»

«Why did he go to your place?»

«Anton has his own apartment. I rented it at his request and saved the money for him. That’s why he came to stay with me for the first few days.»

«What happened then?»

«Well, we celebrated his return. But I had to go to the station, so I left him there. „Get some rest,“ I told him. „Get some sleep and make yourself at home.“»

«How did you get to the station?»

«On the subway. I didn’t have any luggage and the subway is nearby. It’s more reliable when there’s traffic too.»

«Did anyone see you leave the building?»

«How would I know? I was in a rush.»

Petelina’s cell phone began to vibrate quietly on the table. The call was from Senior Lieutenant Ivan Mayorov. Elena stepped aside to the window to hear his report.

Mayorov had lingered around until the passengers had all left the train before approaching the weary-looking forty-something car attendant. He introduced himself and showed her a photo of Dmitry Maltsev.

«Do you recognize this man?»

«Why? Who is that?» the woman asked frightened. «A criminal?»

«Did your shift start yesterday?»

«Yes. We went to St. Petersburg in the evening and returned this morning. I’m about to transfer the car over to the other attendant.»

«Try and recall whether this man was among your passengers.»

«Let me see… Oh yeah, I remember. Only, here in the photo, he is sober, but last night he was a little drunk.»