Вячеслав Яцко - The Professor's Murder

I responded with a commonplace cliché: "The good one".

"Today at an international conference Kudrin, the federal Minister of Finance, declared that the struggle against corruption is the chief evil!"

"I have always thought him to be an honest person but not to that degree", I raised my left eyebrow in surprise. "And what was the audience's response? A storm of applause?"

"Burst out laughing, of course".

"With pleasure, I guess. Everybody thought about the opportunity of legalizing a greater pat of his business".

"Between the cup and the lip a morsel may slip", went on Rogov taking a big cup of cappuccino. "In a few minutes Kudrin admitted he had made a mistake".

"You are disappointing me! I have just begun feeling myself a pillar of society. Is this your bad news?"

"You are jumping to conclusions. The bad news is that Voronin got a ticket of leave and turned up in this city. Thanks to you he twice went to the slam and now, as I was informed, cherishes plans of revenge. Take it seriously: this time you won't get off with a broken tooth and I will regret losing such a reliable partner."

Rogov looked at me steadily to find out if the news had produced proper effect. He seemed satisfied with my white face and frightened look and poured a glass of white whine. I sipped my tea.

"And now about Smirnov's case", continued he having made a hearty gulp. "When you phoned you told you had some questions".

I took out of the pocket and handed him my drawing.

"Looks like a helicopter's rotor", grumbled he. "I will try to dig up all information about Smirnov's first wife and the daughter. As for the colleagues. The fellows from Homicide Department questioned them after the body had been found. It turns out all of them hold hostility towards the Professor and everybody would be happy to screw his neck. He was famous for his peevishness and haughtiness. At a meeting of University's Scientific Board he called the Vice President of the University 'a silly cow' because she suggested reducing financial support of his projects. Can you fancy that? And he beat one of his postgraduates with his own hands! The boy wanted to report to the police but the scandal was hushed up. These two persons are under suspicion but I have a gut feeling that they had nothing to do with the murder. They knew he would soon immigrate to the USA and they will get rid of him anyway".

"That is where the problem is", I cut in. "Do you know Smirnov held strong anti-American attitudes? He had a Web site where he published papers denouncing American politics, making fun of American political leaders".

"I heard about the Web site but haven't read it. If you summarize its contents I'll owe you a bottle of vodka. The more we know about the murdered man the easier is to find the murderer. This is an axiom of a criminal investigation", pontificated Mike.

"In a word, he had the whole conception about differences between American and Russian cultures and cultural values. Americans are crazy about their democracy, Russia has always been a totalitarian state; Americans are law-abiding, Russians are lawless; homosexuality is a norm in America and a universally despised perversion in Russia; bribe giving and taking are serious crimes there and are a way of life here; adultery is a bad sin there and a norm here".

Rogov produced a broad grin and looked at me meaningfully.

I pretended not to notice his mug and went on with my story.

"His conclusion was that American and Russian cultures are antagonistic in nature and the struggle between them governs the development of the whole contemporary world".

"Rather interesting but too far-fetched", remarked Rogov. "If there is such a struggle America is sure in the lead".

"So far. Smirnov was sure Russia will win in the end since it represents a less civilized culture. In the same way as, for example, the Huns defeated the Roman Empire".

I made a pause and Rogov fell into a reverie sipping wine from his glass.

"I understand what you are driving at", announced he two minutes later. "Smirnov despised America and nevertheless decided to immigrate there. He must have had serious reasons for the decision".

I nodded in appreciation of my friend's good brainwork.

"What reasons?" reflected Mike aloud. "Threat for his life?" He looked at me questioningly.

"Or threat for his scientific carrier", responded I. "Don't forget that his life was completely devoted to science. I think as soon as you find motives for his immigration to the USA you will find the murderer".

Rogov nodded with a wise air. "Thanks for the idea. But now as an uncivilized Russian I will go back to the adultery question". He looked expectantly at me.

"No problem".

"Does Olga have an alibi?"

"She doesn't. She says her husband left for office at half past eight. She stayed home till eleven when she went to my place. We were at my flat and learned about the murder from TV broadcast".

"So she had more than enough time to go to the University to waste the man", uttered Rogov with true satisfaction.

"And what motive did she have?" wondered I realizing that Rogov was mocking at me.

"Suppose the old man found out about her affair with you. He phoned her and asked to come to his laboratory where they had a quarrel and she stubbed him".

"If Smirnov's ideas are far-fetched your inventions are pure fantasy", said I gently smiling. "Firstly, Smirnov was aware of this affair, secondly, Olga could have fondled him with a frying pan in a fit of rage but she is not able to commit a cold-blooded murder".

"Do you mean Smirnov didn't love his wife? And what about all these expensive presents, jewelry, and a car?"

"You should understand the psychology of the man. He wanted to show he had money. He felt some affection to Olga but he used her to show how tough he was having the prettiest woman in the city".

"That is, he just decorated her", concluded Rogov upon a minutes reflection.

"That's quite right. You've got it. He decorated her. Like a New Year tree". I looked at him with respect.

"OK, you've convinced me". Rogov mockingly put his hands in the air.

At that instant my LG smartphone began to vibrate producing a melody from Vivaldi's "L'estate". I opened the slider.

"Is this Mr. Anderson?" heard I an unfamiliar hoarse voice.

"Wrong number, this is not Mr. Anderson".

"Excuse me; this is Captain Murkin from Police Station 11. We detained a woman who says her name is Ole Lukoje. She has no identification papers with her, and she gave us this telephone number because, as she states, you can certify her identity".

"I'll be at your station in fifteen minutes", snapped I.

3. Ole Lukoje

Captain Murkin turned out a small round-headed middle aged person with big moustaches. His appearance fitted his name [1] Murka (Мурка) is a Russian pet name of a cat and as he opened his mouth to greet me and Rogov I was ready to hear the purr. Instead I heard the familiar hoarse voice: "Good evening, Sir". He was addressing himself to Rogov. Mike decided to accompany me to prevent Olga 'from being put to tortures' as he loftily declared. As an officer from Central Headquarters he knew the heads of local police stations in person and could be very helpful.

"Hullo, Captain", responded Rogov condescendingly. He had a higher rank and a much higher position.

"And this must be Mr. Anderson", said the Captain scrutinizing my face and clothes.

"I am not Anderson".

Murkin, looking embarrassed, explained: "The woman gave your telephone number and told that your name was Anderson and you 'had begot' her. But you seem too young to be her father". He smiled evidently being sure he had paid me a complement.

"My name is Alexei Larin", informed I him and produced my lawyers ID card.