R. Morris - A Vengeful Longing

‘It’s like that other man said, isn’t it? Anyone may turn out to be a murderer.’

‘I wonder, do you include yourself in that philosophy?’

‘Certainly. I have come close to it many times. I would not be surprised if one day I find myself in one of your cells.’

‘I sincerely hope not.’ Porfiry at last took his seat.

‘Me too. I’ll be very clever and escape your detection.’ Tatyana Ruslanovna gave a glassy little laugh.

‘I rather think a better course of action would be to avoid murdering anyone in the first place.’

‘Well, of course, I will try. But I am only human.’

Porfiry flickered his eyelids in an attempt to gather his thoughts. ‘What did you mean when you said that your mother had deluded herself about your father?’

‘There are things that I am not supposed to know. For example, Daddy has a bookcase in his library. It is kept locked. But I know where the key is. And I have read the books that he keeps in there.’

‘Novels?’

‘I think there is another word for the type of books they are.’

‘I understand. I know the kind of books you are referring to.’

‘I expect you do. I expect you like to read them too.’

‘I have encountered them in a professional capacity.’

Her brittle laughter rang out again. There was something broken and cynical to the sound which, given her youthfulness, disturbed Porfiry. ‘You men can never own up to your natures, can you? Well at least Alyosha was honest in that respect. He knew what he wanted and was not ashamed to ask for it.’ She looked at Virginsky, who was standing by the window. Her smile was a fragment of the same laughter. He was not able to return her look.

‘Were you aware that your father received an anonymous letter concerning your relations with Colonel Setochkin?’ asked Porfiry.

‘Oh yes! He was furious about it.’

‘Did he show you the letter?’

‘Of course. He thought it would shame me into mending my ways, or some such nonsense.’

‘I see. I take it that it did not have the effect he desired?’

‘I will not be lectured to by a hypocrite. All his sanctimonious bowing down before the icons, and he was no better than me.’ Once more she tilted her head upwards, a gesture of contempt.

Porfiry flexed his brows thoughtfully. A small, almost pained, smile flickered briefly. ‘Strange. Those were almost the same words he used to me.’

‘My mother has fallen for his act, but not I. She hasn’t seen what I have seen.’

‘You are referring to the books in the locked bookcase?’

‘Yes, the books. And the diaries. He keeps dirty little diaries, you know, of all his dirty little antics.’

‘Diaries? You mean there’s more than one?’ said Porfiry.

‘Oh yes. Five or six.’

‘And you have read them?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘That must have been hard for you.’

‘Oh yes. He has a terrible style.’

Porfiry’s head trembled towards a bow. ‘And does your father know that you have read them?’

‘Oh no.’ Tatyana Ruslanovna smiled her self-satisfaction.

‘These diaries are in the locked bookcase in your father’s library?’

Tatyana Ruslanovna nodded.

‘Where is the key to the bookcase?’

Tatyana Ruslanovna laughed, the same broken laugh as before. ‘You’d like to read them, would you?’

‘They may have some bearing on the case.’

‘Of course,’ said Tatyana Ruslanovna. Porfiry was beginning to find her knowing irony tiresome.

‘Young lady. A man is dead. This man, I believe, was once someone close to you. Although your father is necessarily a suspect, I am not absolutely convinced that he is the perpetrator. What happened yesterday in Setochkin’s study remains a mystery. It could be argued that you yourself have a motive for killing Setochkin. Therefore, you are a suspect too. I urge you to take this seriously. You may very well find yourself in one of my cells sooner than you thought.’

Tatyana Ruslanovna clicked her tongue and turned her face away from him in a dismissive shrug. ‘The key is at the back of one of the drawers in his desk. The right-hand drawer.’

‘Thank you.’

‘However, that drawer is locked.’

‘I see,’ said Porfiry rather stiffly. ‘And where is the key for that drawer?’

‘That is in the left-hand drawer of the desk.’

‘And is that drawer locked?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘And the key?’

Tatyana Ruslanovna turned on him a face brimming with mischief and excitement. ‘Where do you think? You’re a detective, aren’t you? Where would you look for it?’

Porfiry gave it only a moment’s thought. ‘Knowing your father as I do, knowing the tensions that his soul is subject to, the very real conflicts that torment him, and for which I pity him, as a man. .’ He looked steadily at Tatyana Ruslanovna. ‘I would not be surprised if you found the key hidden in the pages of his Bible. In the New Testament. If I were to offer a more precise opinion, I would say somewhere among the verses of the Book of Revelation, perhaps in proximity to chapter two, where Jezebel is mentioned, or, more likely, chapter seventeen, which as you know refers to the Whore of Babylon.’

Tatyana’s mouth dropped open, and her sense of her own cleverness seemed to fall out of it.

At that point, however, the interview was interrupted by another commotion outside, in which the voice of Nastasya Petrovna once again dominated. A moment later, the door to Porfiry’s chambers opened and a tall, severely impeccable man wearing the buttons of a high-ranking civil servant entered. In addition, he was decorated with the medal of the order of St Stanislav.

Nastasya Petrovna’s bustling form was visible behind him, protruding on either side. ‘He is here! Our saviour!’ Nastasya Petrovna peered around the man’s elbow, her mouth now pinched with vindication. She glared at her daughter. ‘You said he would not come but he has. You were wrong. Cruel and wrong.’ To Porfiry, she added, ‘You must not believe a word she says. She speaks only out of spite. What did we do to deserve such an ungrateful child?’ Nastasya Petrovna threw up her hands.

Porfiry rose from his seat. ‘Yaroslav Nikolayevich, good-day to you.’

‘Porfiry Petrovich.’ His name sounded like a summoning to account.

‘You are in trouble now, little man,’ cried Nastasya Petrovna triumphantly. ‘It is not for the likes of you to lock Ruslan Vladimirovich Vakhramev in a cell.’

The prokuror turned stiffly to Nastasya Petrovna. ‘Madam, kindly wait outside.’ It looked for the moment as if further protest would erupt from her, but she remembered herself in time and instead smiled simperingly. ‘And take your daughter with you.’

‘Tatyana!’

The girl rose slowly with a final tilt of her head and sauntered after her mother’s sweeping bulk. Virginsky’s magnetised gaze tracked her.

‘Thank God she is gone,’ said Prokuror Liputin as the door was closed behind them. The usual impervious dignity of his expression for the moment gave way to an almost hounded, certainly human, vulnerability. ‘She is the most annoying woman I know,’ continued Liputin, ‘but she is a friend of my wife’s.’ A spasm of regret tensed the muscles of his face. He then noticed Virginsky and his expression became guarded. He turned quizzically to Porfiry.

‘Allow me to introduce Pavel Pavlovich. A new recruit to our department. His appointment was approved by your office, naturally. ’

‘Ah yes, I think I remember the letter now. But were you not once. .?’

‘Pavel Pavlovich recently graduated from the university with great honours,’ said Porfiry quickly.

‘Your face looks somehow familiar.’ Liputin frowned at Virginsky, then shook his head slowly. ‘Now, what is this all about, Porfiry Petrovich? I was about to leave for Pavlovsk today. I do not appreciate this delay.’