R. Morris: The Gentle Axe

“Of course he did not kill the dwarf immediately before killing himself. He took the body there in that suitcase,” insisted Liputin. “The body of the dwarf was found in the suitcase, was it not?” He pointed to the moisture-stained suitcase. It lay closed on the table. Its lid bore a single large scratch across the middle.

“Yes, that’s correct. And what you are suggesting is quite possibly true. It is equally possible, you must admit, that someone else carried the suitcase there. And if that is possible, it is also possible that someone else killed the dwarf.”

“But why should he have killed himself?” asked Liputin, with an irritated nod toward the big corpse.

“That is indeed the crucial question,” agreed Porfiry. He turned back to the table of objects, picking up the small grayish slip of paper that Salytov had retrieved from the branches of the birch tree. “Perhaps this pawnbroker’s ticket can lead us to the answer.”

“You are overlooking one important aspect of the case, however,” said Liputin abruptly.

Porfiry looked up with a questioning glance.

“The self-evident inferior rank of the individuals concerned. This one is a student of some kind, I would say. Leaving aside his deformity-”

“Which of course has no bearing on the thoroughness with which the case will be investigated,” completed Porfiry.

“You know, Porfiry Petrovich, that it is possible to be too zealous as an investigator. Police resources are not infinitely expendable. There are such things as hopeless cases. I mean to say, who are these people?”

“Yes. We must establish their identities. That is the first step to establishing the truth of what happened.”

“Ah yes, the truth,” said Liputin wearily, consulting his pocket watch. “Where is this physician of yours?”

“He will be here shortly, I am sure.”

“Who is it to be?”

“Dr. Pervoyedov, of the Obukhovsky Hospital. He has served us in this capacity before. His work has always been satisfactory.”

“But this is not good enough,” commented Liputin sharply, with a glance to the official witnesses. “These gentlemen have consented to give up their time for the express purpose of witnessing this…procedure.”

There were assenting echoes from the official witnesses.

“I am sure they are pleased to be fulfilling their civic duty.”

“What about the physician’s duty? You know that as investigating magistrate you have the authority to fine…”

At that moment, to Porfiry’s relief, a red-faced young man hurried into the shed pushing a two-wheeled trolley on which a large tin trunk was upended. The newcomer was hatless, his long hair sticking out in unruly clumps. He was dressed in an old overcoat with a grubby plaid pattern. In many ways his disheveled and almost shabby appearance was the exact opposite of Liputin’s. “Apologies, apologies, gentlemen,” cried Dr. Pervoyedov. “I was delayed by syphilis. Five new cases. Five!”

Liputin pocketed his watch. His expression betrayed nothing. “That is nothing to us. You understand, I trust, your duties under the law.”

“Of course, your excellency. Indubitably. In- du -bi-ta-bly!” The doctor settled the trolley and then cautiously rolled the trunk off so that it landed square on the ground. Despite his care, there was an alarming jangle of metal and glass. Dr. Pervoyedov hurried to unlock the trunk and open the lid. He scanned the contents urgently. “No harm done. No harm done. The jars of formaldehyde are intact. It was the formaldehyde I was worried about.”

“You would achieve greater punctuality, I believe, were you able to curtail your habit of repetition,” commented Liputin. “It is that, I warrant, that delays you, more than the inconvenience of treating the victims of disease.”

“Ah! How very witty, your excellency. How very-”

Liputin cut in: “So our investigator, the esteemed Porfiry Petrovich, has deemed it necessary to summon you here to conduct an autopsy on these poor unfortunate wretches.”

“Yes, of course, of course.” Dr. Pervoyedov nodded anxiously, his face drawn and tense.

“He says of course! There is no of course about it!” Liputin turned to the official witnesses. “What say you, gentlemen? Shall we proceed with this farce?”

“Is it really necessary?” asked Major General Volokonsky.

“I myself do not see what purpose it would serve,” added Actual State Councilor Yepanchin.

“But seeing as we are all here,” pleaded Nikodim Fomich. “And the good doctor has brought his own equipment-”

“Well, yes, of course,” said Dr. Pervoyedov. “If I did not bring my equipment, I would have nothing with which to conduct the autopsy. You might think of that, Porfiry Petrovich, next time you summon me to your service.”

“The law does not require the investigating magistrate’s office to equip the forensic physician,” said Liputin automatically.

“But it might be more convenient if the investigating magistrate were to allow for the examination to be conducted at a hospital or clinic, where such equipment as I bring might naturally be found.” The doctor smiled as he pressed his point.

“More convenient for you, no doubt,” answered Liputin coldly. “Your convenience is not the main issue here.”

“I shall bear your suggestion in mind in the future,” said Porfiry, with a respectful bow for Dr. Pervoyedov.

“There is no need,” insisted Liputin brusquely. “And I for one see no logic in the argument that just because the doctor has gone to the trouble of bringing his tools, we must allow him to use them. It remains a fruitless exercise, even with the doctor’s presence.”

“There is one detail I would ask you to consider,” put in Porfiry, his eyelids fluttering to a close. “The tree from which this old soldier was cut down bore in its trunk a singular vertical nick…”

“Yes, I noticed that,” said Salytov thoughtfully.

“…consistent in size with the blow of an axe blade.”

“So?” challenged Liputin.

“Who put it there?”

“What does it matter? What relevance does it have?”

“This nick was a little higher than the point at which his noose was tethered.”

“Why are you bothering us with this nick, Porfiry Petrovich? I don’t want to hear about this nick of yours.”

“It was too high for the hanged man himself to have reached, and the dwarf certainly could not have stretched so high.”

“The axe was thrown,” suggested Liputin confidently. With rather less confidence, he added: “And then fell out.”

“Which axe? The axe that was used to kill the dwarf? But there were no marks of blood in the nick. And the blade shows no signs of having recently made a cut. You would expect the blood to be wiped away at the tip. Unless, of course, the nick in the tree was made before the dwarf was murdered. But we have already established that the dwarf can’t have been murdered at the place where the bodies were found. So it seems that another axe must have made the nick in the tree. Or the same axe made the nick, but before the wound in the dwarf ’s head was inflicted.”

“But I repeat, what has the nick in the tree got to do with anything? It may be a coincidence. Have you considered that?”

“Certainly. It is a strange coincidence, however. I could find no other such marks in any of the other trees I examined in the area. One must at least accept the possibility that the nick is significant.”

“I don’t have to accept any such possibility. Porfiry Petrovich, you really are trying my patience. It is enough that I have to contest such irrelevances in the new courts. Now you are playing the part of defense counsel to a dead man.”