“Alright, Vanya. Enough daydreaming about that scientist. Let’s go find us that Manuylov.”
At this moment, Colonel of Justice Yuri Grigorevich Kharchenko, Petelina’s boss, briskly entered the office.
“Lena, you never stopped by last night after your vacation. Now your poor old boss is forced to come down here to welcome you back.”
Petelina flushed.
“Colonel Kharchenko, I brought you a souvenir actually.” She waved to the operatives. “You guys can go.”
“No, no, let them stay – in case you’ve decided to bribe me and I need witnesses.”
From her desk’s top drawer, Petelina produced an elephant miniature carved from teak.
“This is the symbol of Thailand. They have more elephants there than anywhere else in the world.”
“Thank you. I have something for you too. I’m not sure it counts as a present but… Didn’t I hear you mention Manuylov just now?”
“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
