R. Morris - The Gentle Axe

“But you haven’t explained why I should want poor Borya dead.”

“It wasn’t Borya you wanted dead so much as Goryanchikov. Borya was simply there to take the blame. He wouldn’t do it willingly, of course. So you staged his suicide to make it look like he had been overcome by guilt after murdering Stepan Sergeyevich for the six thousand rubles you stuffed into his pocket.”

“An interesting theory. I admit to being a collector of interesting theories. I find them entertaining. So I will hear you out. And then I shall refute you.”

Porfiry nodded. “You wanted Stepan Sergeyevich Goryanchikov dead because he knew your secret; or rather, secrets. The first secret is that you, Osip Maximovich, are the publisher of both the Athene and the Priapos imprints. That is to say, a publisher of both reputable philosophy texts and disgusting obscenities. Goryanchikov knew this because he worked for you in both capacities. That was the meaning of one of the quotes in the extraneous passage of the translation. ‘Did not Alcibiades sleep with Socrates, under the same cloak, and wrap his sinful arms around a spiritual man?’ Alcibiades was the pen name Goryanchikov used when translating pornography. ‘Socrates’ refers simply to the philosophical content of the Athene books.”

“Now I really have had enough of this tiresome nonsense. The fact is, Porfiry Petrovich, I can’t have been Borya’s murderer, or Goryanchikov’s. I was a thousand versts away in Optina Pustyn. If you had taken the trouble to check my alibi, you would have saved yourself the embarrassment of making these preposterous and quite unfounded charges.”

“I did check your alibi. I am always suspicious of people who are at pains to produce an alibi before they have been accused of anything, as you did. So I had the deputy investigating magistrate of Kaluga speak to Father Amvrosy in person. Fortunately he was granted an audience with the saintly man shortly before he died.”

“There was no need to do that. You could have simply looked in the convent records.”

“But I wanted, so to speak, to hear it from Father Amvrosy. Father Amvrosy was, after all, your old teacher from the seminary.”

“And?” The word came out bullishly impatient.

“Fortunately, the young gentleman whom I directed to gather this information was very thorough. He sent me a transcript of Father Amvrosy’s exact words.”

“Which were?”

“He said, ‘Someone by that name was here.’”

“There you are.”

“But don’t you think it’s a revealing choice of words? It suggests to me he was expecting a different Osip Maximovich Simonov from the one he received. Certainly, these are not exactly the words you would expect an old teacher to use of a former pupil.”

“But I took the train to Moscow. Vadim Vasilyevich saw me off.”

“To begin a journey is not the same thing as to complete it. I believe you did take the train to Moscow, in the first stage of a journey to Optina Pustyn. But you got off at Tosno. The first station on the route. In the meantime, you had exchanged luggage with an actor called Ratazyayev. Who then went on to Optina Pustyn and impersonated you.”

“Why should this fellow do this for me?”

“Because you had a hold over him. Your knowledge of his homosexuality. The crime of sodomy carries a sentence of exile, hard labor, and complete loss of civic rights. Of course, between consenting adults and behind closed doors, the legal prohibition of this act is difficult to enforce. The only successful prosecutions come as a result of denunciation. You threatened him with this.”

“Where is he now? Has he confirmed this? If so, he is a liar.”

“As yet we haven’t found Ratazyayev.”

“That is both convenient and inconvenient for you. Convenient, because it allows you to fit him into this jigsaw puzzle of accusations, in whatever way suits your purposes. Inconvenient, because you can’t prove anything.”

“Allow me to continue. Disembarking from the train at Tosno, where incidentally you were seen by Ratazyayev’s-by his dear friend, Prince Bykov, you were able to return incognito to St. Petersburg on the first available train heading back. You took a room at the Hotel Adrianopole, under the name of Govorov. This Govorov was an agent of yours, known to Goryanchikov. You then sent a note via the bellboy to Goryanchikov, tricking him into coming to the hotel to see Govorov. You charged the bellboy with a second delivery, a forged billet-doux to Borya, supposedly from Anna Alexandrovna, enticing him to Petrovsky Park that same night. In your room at the Hotel Adrianopole you overpowered Goryanchikov and suffocated him with a pillow. You put his body in Ratazyayev’s case, having had the foresight to tell him to leave it empty. You couldn’t close the case with Goryanchikov wearing his fur shuba, so you removed that garment and concealed it in the mattress. You simply told the hotel that Goryanchikov was taking over your room, paying them in advance, to buy a little time before they went snooping. Something they would not be overly inclined to do anyway, although you had piqued the curiosity of the bellboy. You took the case to Petrovsky Park for your midnight rendezvous with Borya. Of course, Borya was expecting to meet Anna Alexandrovna. Instead, you were there. He must have been surprised, to say the least. How did the conversation go? Something like this, I imagine. ‘Where is Anna Alexandrovna?’ To which you reply: ‘She couldn’t come herself. She sent me in her stead.’ ‘She sent you ? To this place?’”

“Please!” cut in Osip Maximovich.

“Was it not like that?”

“This is a farce.”

“At some point, you looked Borya straight in the eye and said, ‘Anna Alexandrovna has need of your help.’ To which he replied something along the lines of, ‘I will do anything for Anna Alexandrovna.’”

Osip Maximovich looked away sharply.

“Perhaps I am on the right lines after all,” said Porfiry.

Now Osip Maximovich faced him and shook his head.

“At that point, perhaps,” continued Porfiry, “or at some point soon after, you showed him the contents of the suitcase. That is to say, the dead body of Stepan Sergeyevich Goryanchikov. You told him about the filthy advances the dwarf had made toward his beloved Anna Alexandrovna, a lustful attention that was now being transferred to Sofiya Sergeyevna. And now you revealed the terrible act you claimed Anna Alexandrovna had been driven to commit in order to prevent an even worse crime. In absolute terror, Borya swears that he will do whatever you ask of him. ‘We must make it look like suicide,’ you say. ‘Help me tie this rope around this tree. Lift me up. That’s right. Put me on your shoulders. That’s right. That’s good. I just have to tie this. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. You can put me down now. My goodness, you’re shaking, Borya. Here, have some vodka, I’ve brought some vodka.’ And when he offered your flask back to you, you naturally declined. ‘One of us must keep a clear head,’ you say. Was it something like that, Osip Maximovich?”

“What? All because I am supposed to have published a few smutty novels?”

“No. Not all because of that. I’m getting to the real reason. Would you like me to continue?”

“You can’t prove any of this.” Osip Maximovich seemed almost saddened to have to point this out to Porfiry.

“After Borya was strung up and dead, you used his axe to smash in Goryanchikov’s head. You then slipped the axe into the yardkeeper’s belt. While all this was going on, you had the real Konstantin Kirillovich Govorov incriminate Lilya. Why? In order to get her out of the way. Deportation to Siberia with her daughter. Isn’t that what you wanted? Unhappily for Lilya and Vera, unhappily for Zoya too, Govorov failed.”