but if you would like to help us…” It occurred to Elena that she could channel the man’s wrath to a productive purpose. “If someone murdered her, we have to catch the criminal immediately. Could you tell me how this happened?”
“We met here. Katya ran back into the lobby and then – ”
“Please state your name and try to be more detailed in your account.”
“My name is Igor Vasilevich Grebenkin. I came to Moscow just today from Saratov. I called Katya the moment I got off the train. She gave me this address, so I came here.”
“Did Katya reside in this building?”
“I believe so.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“I separated from her mother when Katya was just a newborn,” Grebenkin explained. “We were living in the town of Grayvoron back then, not far from the military base. I was in the army. Then they transferred me to Transbaikal. We weren’t married, so I had to go on my own. I was young and stupid – I didn’t even write. Ended up married to someone else, just not for long. We didn’t have kids. After I got out of the army, I settled down in Saratov. This past year, Katya found me herself – over the Internet somehow.”
“She wrote to you?”
“She came and visited! From then on I became a different person. I started to feel like I wasn’t alone in the world. We made plans to meet in Moscow today. I arrived and… well…”
“What did you talk about when you saw her today?”
“We didn’t have time to talk about anything at all. I gave her a ring with a topaz. Katya put it on, smiled and told me that she had a surprise for me. Then she ran back into the building and then…”
“A surprise? That’s the word she used?”
“Yes, ‘a major surprise.’” Grebenkin sunk into himself even further. “I don’t understand a single thing. Could she really have meant..? Tell me, damn it, what the hell happened here?!”
“Calm down please. We will figure everything out. Did Katya harbor any grudge against you?”
“Grudge?”
“As I understood it, you abandoned her when she was still little and never once tried to find out anything about her.”
“What are you implying? You think she did this because of me? I came here to help her!”
“How much time, would you say, elapsed between her running into the building and her fall?”
“How would I know?” Grebenkin snapped. “I didn’t have my stopwatch out!”
“Alright, we’ll come back to that later. Where is her mother at the moment?”
“As soon as Katya graduated, her mom found some Greek guy on the Internet and ran off with him. I guess she reckoned that her parental duties had come to an end.”
“You did the same quite a bit earlier,” the detective couldn’t help needle Grebenkin.
She had decided that she had asked enough questions for their first interview. It would be better to give the witness some time to calm down.
Marat Valeyev emerged from the building’s entrance and noticed the delicate figure of the woman he loved.
“It’s good of you to come, Lena.”
“If this is a suicide, I won’t be much help.”
“Well, listen to this: Exactly forty days ago another woman jumped off that same roof onto this same exact car. That was written off as a suicide, but here we have an identical incident. One and the same. What are the chances? I called you because I know how much you enjoy puzzling cases like this.”
“At the moment, I wish it was cake that I enjoyed so much,” Petelina said pensively, mulling over the unexpected news.
“Sweets are the nemesis of a shapely waist. You know how I love to embrace you there – ”
“Will you cut that out!” Elena slapped away Marat’s impertinent hand. “We’re at a possible crime scene. What did you find out anyway?”
“I went up to the roof. Found a purse up there and a bottle.”
Valeyev held up two evidence bags containing a little black purse and a half-drunk bottle of brandy.
“Have you studied them closely?”
“No.”
“Give them to the Tadpole.”
The senior detective and the operative returned to Misha Ustinov, the forensic expert. The medical technicians had just taken the body away. A glossy puddle of blood remained on the dented hood of the silver car. The color of blood depends on the surface it’s on. On the ground it looks brown. Here, however, it had the same scarlet color that older women, in search of a partner, apply to their lips.
“Find anything, Misha?” asked Petelina.
“Nothing major at the moment, Detective Petelina. I did gather some materials for further tests though.” The Tadpole deposited several evidence bags into his backpack. “I discovered this photo in the pocket of the deceased.”
Elena took the photograph. Incessant reminders of the frailty of life were yet another hidden cost in her line of work. An hour ago this young woman had her entire life ahead of her – and looked like this. An hour later, her tepid broken body lay ensconced in a plastic body bag on its way to the morgue.
The photograph, taken in the winter, showed Katya Grebenkina with her father. The wind had picked up the girl’s hair and she, a prudent smile on her face, was trying to tuck one of the unruly locks back under her knit hat. Igor Grebenkin, whose receding hairline had abandoned parts of his scalp to glint in the sunlight, was half-turned, watching his daughter intently.
“This is for you, Tadpole – a present from the roof.” Marat Valeyev placed the evidence bags containing the purse and the bottle of brandy onto the trunk of the Skoda.
“You went up there without me?” the forensic expert became annoyed. “If you wiped out any shoeprints – ”
“What shoeprints? The roof’s covered in puddles. Anyway, a couple local cops went up there with me and witnessed me gather this evidence.”
Peeking into the purse, Petelina noticed a passport.
“Grebenkina, Ekaterina. Twenty-one years old. Registered resident of the town of Grayvoron in Belgorod Region,” the detective read turning through the passport pages. “At least there’s no question about her identity.”
“No question about our main suspect either.” Misha Ustinov fished out a pack of cigarettes and flashed the warning label with a large bold inscription. “‘SMOKING KILLS!’ Looks like this case is closed, Detective Petelina.”
“What
