In the Name of a Killer (24 page)

‘And you’re wearing it,’ Larissa agreed. She wiped it from his face and repaired her lipline while he wrapped the offered antiseptic covering around his finger. He saw ingrained into both hands some grease he’d missed in the kitchen and tried again in the bathroom sink. Not all of it came off and he guessed he’d need cleansing spirit to get rid of it completely. She said: ‘It’s good having you here.’

‘How can it be?’

‘I like looking at them and then at you. And thinking what we do, which they don’t know anything about. I get all excited. Do you want to feel?’

‘Stop it, Larissa!’

‘Tomorrow afternoon?’

He’d arranged to go to the mortuary again, with the American this time. ‘I’m not sure. I’ll try. We should get back to the others.’ He wondered what Cowley had achieved at the embassy: there hadn’t been any telephone contact.

‘Sure you don’t want to feel?’

Danilov didn’t reply, walking out of the bathroom ahead of her. Olga and Kosov were sitting side by side on a couch that ran more than half the width of one wall of the apartment. Kosov was holding Olga’s hand, resting on her thigh.

‘Isn’t this the most wonderful flat?’ demanded Olga. ‘I’ve never seen a television that big. And it’s got a video player: they can watch movies, right here in their own home!’

‘Wonderful,’ agreed Danilov, dutifully. He didn’t think he’d ever seen such a large television, either. It was enclosed in a cabinet, with louvred doors that could seal it off. The video equipment was on a lower shelf. There was an extensive stereo display right next to it, close to the chairs that made up the suite. Danilov wondered how much had come from the grateful importer whom he’d introduced to the other man. The wallpaper was hessian and the ceiling-to-floor curtains were a heavy green velvet, shaded to match the thick and slightly darker green wall-to-wall carpeting.

‘Nothing to it if you’ve got the proper friends, is there, Dimitri?’ Kosov gestured towards Danilov. ‘Taught me all I know, on how to operate in a Militia district …’ He leaned forward towards Danilov, solemn-faced, responsibly serious policeman to responsibly serious policeman. ‘We’re looking after that inquiry. Checking out every street incident that could be relevant. And a lot more. I’ve put the word out, among special friends I’ve made since you were here. If there’s a whisper about, I’ll hear it. Don’t you worry.’

To judge from the other man’s dialogue, Danilov thought a lot of the video movies Kosov watched on his cinema-sized television screen had to be American crime thrillers. He was about to question what Kosov had told him when Larissa perched on the arm of his chair. To her husband she said: ‘How are you involved with Dimitri?’

Danilov supposed he should have realized from the geography of the city that his old Militia district would be included in the checks he’d asked Pavin to initiate, but until that moment he hadn’t. He wished Larissa hadn’t sat as she was, so close their legs touched. Before Danilov could find a dismissive reply, not wanting to talk about the murders, Kosov said: ‘The city’s detective force need uniformed officers to help them find a mass murderer.’

‘Two is hardly mass murder, is it?’ said Larissa.

Kosov got up from the couch to refill glasses. ‘It’ll be mass murder when he kills again,’ insisted Kosov, belligerently. ‘A maniac, killing and maiming.’

‘They weren’t maimed!’ contradicted Danilov.

‘Scalped!’ insisted Kosov. ‘Her and the man. That’s the information we’ve been given.’

‘Neither one was scalped!’ rejected Danilov, exasperated. ‘The hair was cut off.’ How could any inquiries throughout the Militia districts be objective if they were going to be interpreted like this? He’d have to go through the phrasing of the check request with Pavin first thing tomorrow.

‘Don’t you think it’s the work of a maniac?’

‘Of course it is,’ said Danilov, still wanting to terminate the conversation. ‘But this is hardly the place or time to talk about it, is it?’

Larissa shuddered and said: ‘Just think. He could be quite close to us now: just a street or two away.’

‘Why hasn’t there been any announcement about it yet?’ said Olga. ‘All I’ve read about is the girl. And it didn’t say anything about cutting off her hair.’

‘There might be, soon. We don’t want to cause any panic,’ said Danilov.

‘I’m glad …’ started Larissa, unthinking, then hurriedly stopped. ‘… that you’ve told us now,’ she finished, badly.

Danilov felt a warmth and hoped he wasn’t colouring at the nearness of Larissa blurting out his earlier hotel bedroom warning. Quickly he said to Kosov: ‘What do you mean, about putting the word out among your special friends?’

‘Just that,’ said the Militia commander. ‘People know who’s in charge of Militia station 19: and when I say I want help they know I mean it. So the word’s out. Any kinky bastard wandering around my streets I’m going to know about it, don’t you worry.’

Danilov realized the other man was glorying in the situation, posturing to impress. Surely the fool hadn’t inquired among the Dolgoprudnaya crime syndicate Larissa had told him about? At once Danilov realized that was
precisely
what Kosov would have done. The Dolgoprudnaya would probably laugh at him. Danilov resolved to treat with extreme caution anything that came from Kosov’s police station. Wearily Danilov said: ‘I look forward to getting anything you find out.’

‘Just like the old days,’ Kosov enthused. ‘The two of us working together again.’

Danilov couldn’t recall an investigation they had jointly handled, when they were in the same district. Wanting to change the subject, he said: ‘I sometimes miss uniform work.’

‘Surely there are benefits at Petrovka?’ sniggered Kosov.

‘I’d like to know what they are!’ Olga came in, ahead of her husband. ‘We haven’t even got a television that works properly.’

‘You want a favour, all you’ve got to do is ask,’ offered Kosov, generously. ‘My friends are your friends: you even knew some before me.’

‘I don’t believe you
really
miss it.’ Now Larissa was openly goading. ‘I think it takes
very
special qualities, to be a detective. Not like ordinary policemen. Don’t you think that, Yevgennie?’

Her husband squinted across the room, mind blurred by whisky. ‘Control detectives,’ he said. ‘Part of my staff. I’m in charge.’

‘Administratively. And your detectives don’t investigate
murders
, do they? Not like Dimitri.’ Larissa smiled ingenuously at the other woman. ‘Aren’t you proud of him, Olga? Knowing how clever he is? Hunting murderers? Maniac murderers?’

Danilov tried to press his leg warningly against hers: Larissa answered the pressure, smiling down. ‘I think you’re very clever. Brave, too.’

Olga seemed to have difficulty in finding an answer to the question she’d been asked. Eventually she said: ‘Yes, I suppose. I don’t really think about it. It’s his job.’

‘Which I didn’t come here to discuss,’ said Danilov, renewing the effort for another subject. ‘I came to eat dinner.’

Larissa had to get up from the chair arm to serve it and Danilov was relieved. Olga went to help and Kosov insisted on more whisky, while they waited. With the caviare Kosov served chilled vodka. There was imported French white wine with the cold fish and red, French again, with the duck, which Larissa served with marinated cabbage, both red and white. When Olga politely praised the meal Larissa said everything had come from the open, State-free market next to the Circus: every conceivable foodstuff was available providing you were prepared to pay the price. Kosov, who belatedly appeared to realize his wife had been mocking him about the degree of responsibility of a Militia post commander, told interminable police anecdotes whose point or denouement he frequently forgot, relapsing into shrugs and hopeful, join-me laughter and mumbled ‘you know’ and ‘so that was that’. Everyone felt varying degrees of discomfort.

Kosov poured brandy for himself and Danilov while the women cleared away. Kosov said: ‘Isn’t there really any understanding operating at Petrovka?’

‘I believe so, in the general serious crime section. Not in the homicide division though. There couldn’t be, could there?’

‘Of course there could,’ argued the expert. ‘Use the contacts of the serious crime squad
not
involved in murder.’

‘I haven’t got around to it yet,’ Danilov hedged.

‘Don’t want to obligate yourself, with other colleagues?’ guessed Kosov.

‘Something like that,’ said Danilov, taking the excuse.

‘Then let me help. All you’ve got to do is ask.’

Which would mean he would be taking favours from both members of the family, Danilov thought, knowing a different sort of discomfort. ‘I’ll remember that.’

‘Any time,’ said Kosov. ‘That’s what friends are for.’

Danilov couldn’t remember the other man being quite so openly condescending before. There was some desultory talk about films when the women returned and some quite animated conversation when Kosov announced that he was thinking of applying for exit visas so he and Larissa could take a vacation in Europe, probably both France and Italy. It was Danilov who brought the evening to a close, pleading pressure of work. Kosov kissed Olga goodbye and promised Danilov he would be hearing something from him in a few days. ‘The word’s out on the streets. Trust me.’

When Danilov kissed Larissa farewell she looked directly at him. ‘Don’t forget what Yevgennie said earlier: let’s not leave it so long until we get together again.’

‘Our turn next time,’ insisted Olga as they left, Danilov carrying the wipers in a piece of paper towel.

Danilov trapped his finger again replacing them on the police car but this time didn’t cut himself. He used the paper towel to wipe off as much fresh grease as possible.

‘Isn’t that going to be embarrassing?’ demanded Olga, when he got in beside her.

‘What?’

‘Having them back to us next time. Can you imagine what they’ll think of our apartment? I can remember the time when we had things every bit as good as theirs: better even.’

‘Don’t invite them then.’ Danilov didn’t want another evening like tonight. He’d swung between boredom and embarrassment with Kosov, and Larissa had made him constantly uncomfortable in other ways. And she’d known it: he guessed she hadn’t just felt superior to her husband and Olga but to him as well.

‘We
have
invited them.’

‘Not a specific date. Just don’t do anything more about it.’

‘Do you like her?’

Danilov looked quickly across the car and wished he hadn’t, from the guilt it might have conveyed. ‘Larissa?’

‘Who else do you think I mean?’

‘Of course I like her. We’ve all of us been friends a long time. Why do you ask?’

‘She was all over you tonight.’

‘Rubbish!’ said Danilov, almost too forcefully.

‘What were you doing in the bathroom?’

‘You know what we were doing. She was dressing my finger.’ It sounded pitifully inadequate.

‘It seemed to take a long time.’

‘I tried to get more muck off my hands.’

‘She had to stay and help you do that?’

‘We were talking.’

‘What about?’

‘I don’t know! Things at the hotel. How I enjoy working at Petrovka. Just talking.’

‘She’s very attractive, isn’t she?’

‘I haven’t thought about it.’ That had sounded wrong, too. Now Danilov was aware of Olga looking across the car at him.

‘Her dress was French. She told me, in the kitchen.’

Danilov didn’t reply. Despite the distraction of the conversation inside the car he found himself staring out into the quiet streets along which they were driving, looking. For what, he demanded angrily of himself. A figure wielding a knife? Or running with a handful of hair?

‘It showed her figure. She hasn’t got any fat, not like me, has she?’

‘I didn’t notice.’

‘She was so close to you I wouldn’t have thought you could have missed noticing.’

‘If we’re making comparisons, which we seem to be doing, I thought you and Yevgennie clung together pretty much tonight.’ Now it was petulance.

‘Yevgennie! Don’t be ridiculous. He’s always like that; always has been.’

Danilov edged off the inner ring road, to cut through minor streets in the hope of reaching Kirovskaya as quickly as possible. Wind-driven rain began misting the windscreen and Danilov had to start the wipers. There was a hard scraping noise as they cleared the screen and he guessed he had re-attached them wrongly.

‘At least he was interested in some physical contact with me. I haven’t been aware of you showing much recently.’

‘Don’t start an argument where one doesn’t exist, Olga!’ He was surprised at not being able to remember the last time they’d made love.

‘I …’ started the woman, loudly, but stopped. Controlling herself she went on: ‘I don’t recall you and I thinking of a vacation in Europe, when you were in charge of the district.’

‘Travel was much more strictly controlled when I was in charge.’ Danilov confronted a No Entry sign he hadn’t expected. He turned left, to make his own detour, acknowledging it wasn’t any longer a shortcut.