The White Russian (11 page)

Her expression did not alter, but he saw her eyes flicker. “Who was she?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Ruzsky reached into his pocket for the photographs. He handed her one of the girl’s head and shoulders. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me.”

Vyrubova took it. She stared at it in silence. “How do you know the dress was mine?”

“Madame Renaud confirmed it.”

“How did you know it was one of her dresses?”

Ruzsky was about to explain, but thought better of it. “Do you recognize her?”

“Yes.” Vyrubova’s face was expressionless.

He waited.

“And?” Ruzsky was beginning to recover his wits enough to find the woman’s disdain irritating.

“Her name was Ella.”

They heard the front door being opened and shut and a voice in the hall. A few moments later, the Tsarina appeared, dressed in a black overcoat, gloves, and hat, a diamond brooch at her neck.

Ruzsky did not move. After a few moments, he realized that his mouth was open and he shut it. She was taller than he remembered, but there were deep lines around her eyes and her face was harsher, thinner, and more angular than he’d imagined.

For a moment, she stared at him.

The last time Ruzsky had set eyes upon her had been on the day of his arrest. He had been with his brother in the General Staff Building, overlooking a packed Palace Square as the Tsar and his wife came out onto the balcony of the Winter Palace to read a proclamation declaring the Russian Empire to be at war with Germany and Austro-Hungary.

Even now, Ruzsky could recall every detail of that crisp day: the giant crimson drape that hung almost to the ground; the Tsar dressed in the uniform of a colonel in the Preobrazhensky Regiment, his wife in white; the gigantic crowd falling to its knees and chanting the national anthem, “Bozhe, Tzaria Khrani,” over and over again, the Emperor raising his hand as he read the proclamation against the great din, his wife bowing.

The swell of emotion had touched even the most cynical hearts. And in the eyes of the young men in uniform around him, what Ruzsky had seen was nothing short of ecstasy.

Now most of those men were dead and the woman who ruled an empire stood before him, dressed in black.

His education failed him. He had no idea what he should say if she chose to address him.

“Who is this?” she demanded.

“He says he’s a chief investigator from Petrograd.”

The Empress snorted in derision, as if he weren’t there. “It’s not good for Alexei to be out in the cold so long.” She spoke Russian with a heavy German accent.

Vyrubova’s expression was instantly soothing. “He seems better today.”

“He’s no judge of his own well-being.”

“He wants to be out with the girls.”

“I know he does, but that doesn’t mean that it is good for him.”

The Empress of the Russias turned to him. “What is he doing here?”

Anna Vyrubova handed the Tsarina the photograph that was still in her hand. She studied it for a moment and then looked up again, her mouth taut. “I suppose you think it is our fault.”

Ruzsky did not know what to say.

“She was murdered,” Vyrubova explained. “It wasn’t-”

The Empress looked confused. “Murdered?”

It appeared to be a question for him. “Yes,” Ruzsky said, clearing his throat and bowing slightly. “It would appear so, Your…” Ruzsky wondered if he should have said “Your Imperial Highness,” but, as he considered the question, a hint of resentment at his mother’s own fawning approach to the imperial family acted as its own check. Their manner was damned rude.

“It would appear so? Surely you must know.”

“Yes… That is correct.”

“How was she murdered?”

Ruzsky glanced at Vyrubova to see whether he should continue to answer, but received no signal either way. “She was stabbed. Once. The man with her, seventeen times.” Ruzsky handed a photograph of the man’s head and shoulders to the Empress. She looked at it without expression and then passed it to her companion.

“How did you know she worked here?” the Empress asked.

Ruzsky looked at Vyrubova, but her face was impassive. “I didn’t,” he said.

Ruzsky thought he saw a slight flush developing in the Tsarina’s cheeks.

“Ella worked in the nursery,” Vyrubova explained. “And was very fond of the children.”

“She was a pretty girl,” the Empress said. “But unreliable.”

“She was very fond of the family,” Vyrubova went on, “and sad to go.”

They were silent. Their sudden garrulousness confused him. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Ruzsky said, “to go where?”

“She was dismissed,” the Empress said.

There was another long silence.

“Would it be impertinent…” Ruzsky kept his eyes on Vyrubova so as not to rile the Empress. “May I ask why?”

The Empress frowned, tilting her head to one side. “You may not.”

“I apologize, Your Highness.”

“She stole from us,” the Tsarina said suddenly. She sighed. “There was no choice but to dismiss her. It upset the children. She upset the children.”

“She was too close to them,” Vyrubova added. “To the Little One, to Sunbeam, especially.”

The Empress’s irritation with her colleague began to show again.

“She was sad to leave here?” Ruzsky asked.

“Devastated. Of course.” The Empress seemed suddenly to remember herself. “I did not expect anyone to be here,” she told Vyrubova. “Telephone me when you have dealt with this man.”

She walked out. They waited, watching her pass the window and the white fence around the garden.

Vyrubova did not look at him. There was an intimacy between them suddenly, as if he had witnessed a domestic scene normally kept away from prying eyes. She stared at her shoes, a rueful smile at the corner of her lips.

“What did this girl… Ella… steal?”

Vyrubova was evasive again. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what she took?”

“No.” She looked out of the window. The Empress was now some distance away. “No.”

“Some money?”

“No. I mean, yes. Money.”

“How much?”

She turned back, still not meeting his eye. “I don’t know.”

Ruzsky smiled encouragingly. “You seem to keep few secrets from each other.”

“Who?”

“You and the Empress.”

“That is not your business.”

“No. Of course. I just imagined she would have told you the cause of this girl’s sudden dismissal.”

“She rules the Empire during the Tsar’s absence at the front, commanding our great forces. She doesn’t have time to deal with the minutiae of the household. This girl was unimportant.”

“But the children were upset.”

“They will quickly recover. It is best to be removed from unsuitable influences.”

“How was she unsuitable, exactly?”

“Oh… I don’t know.” Ruzsky saw the impatience in Vyrubova’s expression, but did not understand why she was making such heavy weather of the lies she was telling. “You must ask the household staff.”

“As you wish. May I go over now?”

“No.” She was shocked. “You must write. Apply in writing.”

“To whom?”

“To the household. To Colonel Shulgin. He deals with such matters.”

Ruzsky tried to prevent his exasperation from showing. “Was Ella from Petersburg?”

“No, she wasn’t. Yalta or Sevastopol. Somewhere on the peninsula.”

“How did she come to be employed here?”

“I have no idea. You’ll have to ask the household staff.”

“Did you know the girl well?”

“Ella? No. Not at all.”

“But you gave her one of your dresses?”

“Yes, but… She had not worked here long.”

“How long?”

“A few months. Perhaps a little more.”

“Did she ever talk about her personal life here in Petrograd?”

“Not to me. I don’t believe so. No she didn’t.”

“Did she have any family or friends that you know of?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“What was her family name?”

“Kovyil.”

Ruzsky noted it down. “So you saw her when you were with the children. She was a nanny. To Alexei?”

“She helped in the nursery.” Vyrubova’s expression clouded. “It was disgraceful. To steal like that. Disgraceful. The Empress has always been most generous.”

Ruzsky doubted, from the tone of her voice, that this was true.

“But you knew the girl well. Well enough to give her one of your dresses.”

“No. I hardly spoke to her.”

“It was an act of great generosity.”

“She mentioned how much she liked it one day. It no longer fit me. After she was dismissed, I sent it to her.”

“But Madame Renaud’s dresses are not inexpensive…”

Vyrubova looked at him, assessing him properly for the first time. She took a pace away. “I must go to the palace.”

“I would ask you to stay a few moments more,” he said quietly.

“I have work to do.”

“And I too.” Ruzsky’s tone checked her. “This girl was walking arm in arm with her lover under the moonlight in the first hours of our New Year. They were viciously attacked. Even in these troubled days, murder must not go unheeded, surely.”

She stared at him. He wondered if she had privately expressed such sentiments at the way in which Rasputin’s killers had escaped justice.

“Who are you? What is your name?” she demanded.

“Ruzsky. Alexander Nikolaevich.”

She frowned. “You are related to the assistant minister of finance.”

“My father.”

She assessed him with inscrutable eyes. “I cannot help you further.”

“Did you recognize the man?”

Vyrubova realized she still had the photograph in her hand. She returned it to him. “No.”

“He wasn’t a member of the household staff also?”

“No.”

“You haven’t seen him before?”

She shook her head.

“Did Ella ever speak about a male friend, a lover perhaps-”

“I told you. I hardly knew the girl.”

Ruzsky breathed in deeply to hide his impatience. “When you say Ella was upset, what do you mean? Did you-”

“It was the Empress who said she was upset. I did not see her.”

This was so obviously a lie that Ruzsky found himself getting angry for the first time. “From everything you’ve said, madam, I find that-”

“I have to go now. The Empress is expecting me.” She began to walk away.

“Madam?”

She stopped and glowered at him.

“Could you give me the number of the house to which you sent the dress?”

She looked puzzled.

“You said that you sent the dress to her after she had left.”

He thought Vyrubova might explode as she sought a way out of the trap into which she had led herself. “The household staff dealt with it. You must speak to them.”

“To Count Fredericks?”

“No, no. He has many more important things to deal with.”

“Colonel Shulgin, then?”

“Yes, but you may not do so now. You must make an appointment.” There was something close to panic in her voice.

“Tomorrow, perhaps.”

“Tomorrow, yes. Tomorrow.”

Ruzsky was led back the way he came. The children were still playing with the snow house. Alexei was standing on a block of ice and sweeping snow onto the heads of the two men helping them. He was laughing.

One of the girls threw a snowball at her brother and he threw one back. Ruzsky noticed that the boy dragged his right leg as he tried to run away.

“Keep up,” the guard said. “Or I shall be forced to call for assistance.”

“The boy tries hard to overcome-”

“It is not your business.”

“I don’t recall suggesting that it was.” Ruzsky thrust his hands into his pockets. “It’s a good life here. Quiet. I can see why they hate coming to Petrograd.”

The guard looked at him, then turned on his heel. Ruzsky watched the boy sitting on a bank for a few moments more before following. He turned back once and saw that the heir to all the Russias was watching him.

B y the time he got back to the office, the only light in his department was from Pavel’s desk lamp, but Ruzsky noticed that his partner’s coat was not on the stand in the corner.

Ruzsky walked over to his own desk. Propped up against the telephone was a letter. He recognized Maria’s hand instantly. He tapped it once against his fingers and then tore it open.

My dear Sandro, she had written, it was so good to see you today.

Folded into the letter was a ticket for The Firebird at the Mariinskiy on the following night.

Ruzsky sat down. He put the letter on the desk and moved it gently to and fro.

He stood again and looked out of the window into the darkness. Was this just an act of friendship? But hope made him want to dance.

“Want to tell me what you’re doing?”

Ruzsky turned around. Pavel stood in the shadows just inside the doorway.

“I thought you’d gone,” Ruzsky said.

“ Russia ’s most beautiful woman.” Pavel took a pace toward his partner. “She delivered it herself. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I should imagine she has many admirers.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

Ruzsky folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope.

“So,” Pavel continued. “How did you get on?”

“You’ll never believe what I have to say, so you first.”

Pavel raised his eyebrows. “Nothing from the embankment. I spoke to some junior official in the Winter Palace household who assured me it was not possible that anyone could have witnessed anything from an upstairs window.”