Boris Akunin - Murder on the Leviathan

Fandorin-san: ‘I think what happened was this. That evening someone arrived at the door of the mansion on the rue de Grenelle …’

The commissioner (in mock admiration): ‘Oh, bravo! A brilliant deduction!’

Someone laughed, but most of us continued listening attentively, for the diplomat is not a man to indulge in idle talk.

Fandorin-san (continuing imperturbably):

‘… someone whose appearance completely failed to arouse the servants’ suspicion. It was a physician, possibly wearing a white coat and certainly carrying a doctor’s bag. This unexpected visitor requested everyone in the house to gather immediately in one room, because the municipal authorities had instructed that all Parisians were to receive a prophylactic vaccination.’

The commissioner (starting to get angry): ‘What idiotic fantasy is this? What vaccination? Why should the servants take the word of a total stranger?’

Fandorin (sharply): ‘If you do not take care, M. Gauche, you may find yourself demoted from Investigator for Especially Important Cases to Investigator for Rather Unimportant Cases. You do not take sufficient care in studying your own materials, and that is unforgivable. Take another look at the article from Le Sou that mentions Lord Littleby’s connection with the international adventuress Marie Sanfon.’

The detective rummaged in his black file, took out the article in question and glanced through it.

The commissioner (with a shrug): ‘Well, what of it?’

Fandorin (pointing): ‘Down here at the bottom.

Do you see the headline of the next article: “Cholera epidemic on the wane”? And what it says about “the vigorous prophylactic measures taken by the physicians of Paris”?’

Truffo-sensei: ‘Why, yes indeed, gentlemen, Paris has been plagued by outbreaks of cholera all winter. They even set up a medical checkpoint in the Louvre for the boats arriving from Calais.’

Fandorin-san: ‘That is why the sudden appearance of a physician did not make the servants suspicious.

No doubt their visitor acted confidently and spoke very convincingly. He could have told them it was getting late and he still had several more houses to visit, or something of the kind. The servants evidently decided not to bother the master of the house, since he was suffering from an attack of gout, but of course they called the security guards from the second floor. And it only takes a moment to give an injection.’

I was delighted by the diplomat’s perspicacity and the ease with which he had solved this difficult riddle.

His words even set Commissioner Gauche thinking.

‘Very well then,’ he said reluctantly. ‘But how do you explain the fact that after poisoning the servants this medic of yours didn’t simply walk up the stairs to the second floor, but went outside, climbed over the fence and broke in through a window in the conservatory?’

Fandorin-san: I’ve been thinking about that. Did it not occur to you that two culprits might have been involved? One dealt with the servants, while the other broke in through the window?’

The commissioner (triumphantly): ‘Indeed it did occur to me, my dear monsieur clever clogs, it most certainly did. That is precisely the assumption that the murderer wanted us to make. It’s perfectly obvious that he was simply trying to confuse the trail!

After he poisoned the servants, he left the pantry and went upstairs, where he ran into the master of the house. Very probably the thief simply smashed in the glass of the display case because he thought there was no one else in the house. When his Lordship came out of his bedroom to see what all the noise was about, he was murdered. Following this unexpected encounter the culprit beat a hasty retreat, not through the door, but through the window of the conservatory. Why? In order to pull the wool over our eyes and make it seem like there were two of them. You fell for his little trick hook, line and sinker. But old papa Gauche is not so easily taken in.’

The commissioner’s words were greeted with general approval. Renier-san even said: ‘Damn it, Commissioner, but you’re a dangerous man!’ (This is a common turn of speech in various European languages. It should not be taken literally. The lieutenant meant to say that Gauche-san is a very clever and experienced detective.)

Fandorin-san waited for a while and asked: ‘Then you made a thorough study of the footprints and came to the conclusion that this person jumped down from the window and did not climb up on to the window sill?’

The commissioner did not answer that, but he gave the Russian a rather angry look.

At this point Stamp-san made a comment that turned the conversation in a new direction.

‘One culprit, two culprits - but I still don’t understand the most important thing: what was it all done for?’ she said. ‘Clearly not for the Shiva. But what then? And not for the sake of the scarf either, no matter how remarkable and legendary it may be!’

Fandorin-san replied to this in a matter-of-fact voice, as if he were saying something perfectly obvious: ‘But of course it was precisely for the sake of the scarf, mademoiselle. The Shiva was only taken in order to divert attention and then thrown into the Seine from the nearest bridge because it was no longer needed.’

The commissioner observed: ‘For Russian boyars (I have forgotten what this word means, I shall have to look it up in the dictionary) half a million francs may perhaps be a mere trifle, but most people think differently. Two kilograms of pure gold was “no longer needed”! You really are getting carried away, monsieur diplomat.’

Fandorin-san: ‘Oh come now, Commissioner, what is half a million francs compared with the treasure of Bagdassar?’

‘Gentlemen, enough of this quarrelling!’ the odious Mme Kleber exclaimed capriciously. ‘I was almost killed, and here you are still harping on the same old tune. Commissioner, while you were so busy tinkering with an old crime, you very nearly had a new one on your hands!’

That woman simply cannot bear it when she is not the centre of attention. After what happened yesterday I try not to look at her - I have a strong urge to jab my finger into the blue vein pulsating on her white neck. One jab would be quite enough to dispatch the loathsome creature. But of course that is one of those evil thoughts that a man must drive out of his head by an effort of will. By confiding my evil thoughts to this diary I have managed to diminish the violence of my hatred a little.

The commissioner put Mme Kleber in her place.

‘Please be quiet, madam,’ he said sternly. ‘Let us hear what other fantasies our diplomat has concocted.’

Fandorin-san: ‘This entire story only makes sense if the stolen shawl is especially valuable in some way. That is one. According to what the professor told us, in itself the shawl is of no great value, so it is not a matter of the piece of silk, but of some other thing connected with it. That is two. As you already know, the shawl is connected with the final will and testament of the Rajah Bagdassar, the last owner of the Brahmapur treasure. That is three. Tell me, professor, was the rajah a zealous servant of the Prophet?’

Sweetchild-sensei (after a moment’s thought): ‘I can’t say exactly … He didn’t build mosques, and he never mentioned the name of Allah in my company. The rajah liked to dress in European clothes, he smoked Cuban cigars and read French novels … Ah yes, he drank cognac after lunch! So he obviously didn’t take religious prohibitions too seriously.’

Fandorin-san: ‘Then that makes four: although he is not overly devout, Bagdassar makes his son a final gift of a Koran, which for some reason is wrapped in a shawl. I suggest that the shawl was the most important part of this legacy. The Koran was included for the sake of appearances … Or possibly the notes made in the margins in Bagdassar’s own hand contained instructions on how to find the treasure with the help of the shawl.’