R. Morris - A Razor Wrapped in Silk

‘I see. In a letter, by any chance?’

Prince Sergei flushed but did not answer.

‘But he loved her? May we establish that?’ insisted Porfiry.

‘In his own c-crude and brutish way, yes.’

‘If so, and if he did kill her at her request, how could he bear to go on living? Surely the only way a man, a passionate man — am I to take it that is what you mean by crude and brutish? — the only way he could bring himself to c-c-contemplate such a deed was if he had also resolved upon his own destruction, or should I say self-destruction?’

‘Do you mock me, sir?’

‘Mock you?’

‘You affected to stammer.’

‘I assure you I had no intention of … you must forgive me. If it’s true, I am mortified.’

‘Your c-c-colleague will c-confirm what I say.’

Porfiry turned to Virginsky in desperate appeal. ‘You did seem to stumble over a consonant, Porfiry Petrovich.’ The younger magistrate winced apologetically but could not disguise his enjoyment of Porfiry’s discomfiture.

‘If indeed that is true, then believe me that it was out of sympathy and not a desire to mock. It was an unconscious slip. The mind plays tricks on us. My mind is especially prone to do so. I meant nothing by it at all. Except …’

‘Except what?’ demanded Prince Sergei.

‘Except perhaps, in my mind, I was merely registering the particular consonant that most commonly causes you difficulty. My mouth, perhaps, betrayed my thoughts. There is no more significance to it than that.’

‘But why think it in the first place?’

‘One cannot always curb the direction one’s thoughts take. I will also say in my defence that I was conscious of a desire to smoke. Distracted by the need and yet feeling myself unable, here in the palace … Well, when I am not able to smoke I find that I have a tendency to do absurd things. I am a deeply absurd person. Without the mitigating influence of tobacco I would be even more absurd.’

‘Why do you say that? Why absurd ?’

‘If I have unwittingly given offence again, I apologise. I couldn’t have known. How could I have known?’

‘How c-could you have known what?’

‘That she mocked you. Your stutter. That she called you absurd.’

‘Why do you persecute me like this? I am not her k-killer. Mizinchikov is her k-k-killer.’

Porfiry hesitated a moment before replying: ‘Ah yes. Captain Mizinchikov. Is it possible, do you think, that he might have refused to kill her in the same way that you did? That such a refusal also prompted from him a proposal of marriage? Perhaps he too hoped to save her from herself by marrying her.’

‘Now you accuse me of a want of originality!’

‘And so, because he would not kill her willingly, perhaps she saw the need to goad him into killing her. Could it be that she saw her engagement to you in that light?’

‘Have you any c-c-conception how offensive that insinuation is? That she would c-consent to be my wife merely to provoke another man into k-k-killing her!’

‘Perhaps she was playing you and Captain Mizinchikov off against each other. Ultimately, we may suppose that she did not care who killed her. In the same way that she did not care whom she married.’

‘How do you dare to presume such things?’

‘It is my unfortunate duty to presume far worse.’

‘Your duty, sir, is to find Mizinchikov and charge him with the murder of Yelena Filippovna. He is of c-c-course a deserter from his regiment now. That is enough, surely, to c-c-confirm his guilt.’

‘Confirm? I don’t know about that. It certainly would be better for Captain Mizinchikov if he came forward to clear his name. But then again, perhaps he is unable to come forward. If he is the romantic gentleman I take him to be, it is not out of the question that he has taken his own life by now. He may not have done it immediately after killing Yelena. Perhaps he was overwhelmed by panic, and fled. Only later did he realise the full enormity of his crime. That is to say, the significance of the crime to him. Life, his life, no longer contained the woman he loved, even as an object of his hatred. How could he endure that?’

‘I c-c-cannot answer for c-Captain Mizinchikov. You had better find him and ask him yourself,’ said Prince Sergei pointedly.

‘What are you doing, Porfiry Petrovich?’

‘I’m carrying the samovar in.’

‘Yes, I see that you are doing that,’ said Nikodim Fomich. The Chief Superintendent’s astonishment had turned to bewilderment. ‘I only wonder why you are doing it.’

‘Because there is no one else to carry it in for me.’ Porfiry placed the steaming samovar down heavily on his desk. It rattled dangerously and seemed about to topple. Porfiry instinctively reached out a hand and carelessly touched the hot metal urn. He immediately gave a sharp cry of pain.

‘What on earth is the matter now?’

Porfiry shook the damaged hand, then held it tightly at the wrist, as if he could seal off the pain. ‘I burnt it on the samovar.’

‘Here, let me see.’ Nikodim Fomich, although several years younger than Porfiry, automatically lapsed into a fatherly role towards him. ‘My wife always puts grated carrot on burns.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘At the very least, some cucumber juice will take out the heat.’

‘It’s nothing, Nikodim Fomich. And kindly remember I am not one of your children.’ Porfiry snatched his hand away.

‘You need someone to look after you, Porfiry Petrovich. You remember Varvara Romanovna?’

‘Varvara Romanovna?’

‘Come now, Porfiry, she was your bridge partner at the dacha this summer. She was very taken with you, as well you know.’

‘The corpulent widow?’

‘My goodness, Porfiry Petrovich, have you looked at yourself recently?’

Porfiry screwed his nose up over his burn. ‘I try to avoid it.’

‘I can understand why. However, as your friend, I am obliged to tell you that you are past your prime.’

‘Thank you, friend.’

‘The days of your bagging a young, beautiful bride are sadly long gone.’

‘Please be assured, Nikodim Fomich, I entertain no such hopes.’

‘Just as well.’

‘But just because I am not capable of bagging — as you so delicately put it — a young, beautiful bride, am I therefore obliged to settle for an old, ugly one?’

‘Varvara Romanovna is not ugly!’

‘No. That was unkind of me. And her charms, for the right man, will prove irresistible. However, I fear I am not that man. The inclinations of the heart cannot be forced, Nikodim Fomich. Now, was there some official purpose to your visit? Or are you here solely in the role of matchmaker?’

‘Have you made any progress in the case of the murdered society belle?’

‘Really, Nikodim Fomich! The murdered society belle ? You have been reading too many newspaper accounts.’

‘Indeed so. The newspapers are full of it. And frankly, they are portraying us as fools.’

‘Until we are able to talk to the missing captain, there is little hope of making progress in the case.’

‘Ah yes, the missing captain.’

‘We have contacted colleagues in Moscow and elsewhere, requesting that they interview and monitor a number of Captain Mizinchikov’s relatives. We are especially interested in one Alexei Ivanovich Zahlebinin, a cousin of Mizinchikov’s with whom he is on particularly friendly terms. This Zahlebinin denies having seen him so far and has given assurances that he will report his cousin’s appearance, should it occur. I trust the police surveillance of Mizinchikov’s St Petersburg associates continues?’

‘Yes, of course.’