Ilil Arbel: Madame Koska and the Imperial Brooch

“Not all men are alike,” said Mr. Korolenko. “And at this stage in your life, you would be more careful as to whom you would choose. If I were in a better situation to do so, Madame Koska, I would have tried to persuade you to rethink your ideas of marriage.”

“Better situation? Whatever do you mean?”

“I am sure you are too practical and reasonable to look at a man who could not give you a better situation than you have already,” said Mr. Korolenko. “I was brought up to assume a woman must weigh her options carefully and never throw herself away on a man who does not have secure and comfortable lifestyle, position, and income… such marriages are for the young and imprudent.”

Madame Koska looked at him with exasperation. Surely he was not telling her that he was interested in her himself? She hoped not. He was certainly attractive and quite pleasant, but she did not want more than friendship. The thought flashed through her mind of how stupid men were in general. Comfortable lifestyle, position, income… No, she fell in love with Grigory because he was an adventurous soul, a man who cheerfully took risks, an exciting companion… but her face remained as impassive and calm as ever.

“Ah, well,” she said. “These are all idle thoughts, and we had a long and hard morning. I am sure you are tired… and we really should talk about the investigation, which is more important now than my late husband. May I offer you some lunch, Mr. Korolenko?”

“Iam glad you telephoned,” said Madame Koska. “I was going to telephone you. I am almost ready to leave, and I must see Natalya, Annushka. I am very worried about her.”

“You have every reason to be worried,” said Madame Golitsyn. “I am at a loss; I simply have no idea what to do. She had a real nervous breakdown, Vera. I understand her fear, but this is more, much more than I expected.”

“Did you tell her father?”

“Yes, I telephoned him and explained that I am keeping her with me for a few days.”

“Did you consult the doctor?”

“No, since just as I was going to do so, she began to feel better. She is resting now. She cried and cried… her nose is all red, and you know how I simply cannot tolerate red noses…”

“Something must be done about it,” said Madame Koska.

“About the nose?” said Madame Golitsyn.

“No, not just the nose. We must do something about Natalya’s state of mind. You see, the more she looks and acts like a frightened rabbit, the more the police will suspect her. We must do something about her level of confidence. This won’t do, having breakdowns… What can we do? Wait. I know. Annushka, I know exactly what to do. I’ll be over in about an hour and a half, two hours. Could you tell me what is Natalya’s shoe size?”

On her wayout, Madame Koska stopped at the front desk and looked at Gretchen, who was getting up to collect her belongings and leave for the day.

“Sit down, Miss Van der Hoven,” she said, pulling a chair from the wall and sitting in front of the desk. Gretchen sank to her seat wordlessly.

“Miss Van der Hoven, I chose not to say anything in front of the inspector, for reasons of my own, but let me make something very clear. This is never going to happen again.”

“I am not sure what you mean, Madame Koska,” said Gretchen, growing pale under the gaze of the chocolate-coloured eyes that were flashing with anger.

“Then let me explain. Your foolish games not only endangered my life, my business, and my reputation, but they also implicated someone other than yourself in a horrible suspicion. You have caused Miss Saltykov to be a suspect in a police investigation.”

“I did not think…”

“Listen to me, my girl. I know you are terribly vorried about your father. You are in trouble, that is true, but people get in trouble, and people get out of trouble. I have been in serious difficulties in my life, but I did not allow my actions to create a hazard for someone else. You believe you can get avay vith anything, because of your beauty, your youth, and your connections. None of these advantages matter when it comes to life and death situations. Youth and beauty vanish. Your connections and vealth would not save your father, or for that matter, yourself, if the gang decides you know too much. And you pitted your brains and scholarship against those who are both more intelligent and better educated than you are; by comparison to Mr. Korolenko and Inspector Blount, you are a mere child. The only things that matter in life, Miss Van der Hoven, are character and integrity. All the rest is mist and vapours.”

“I am so sorry…” said Gretchen, wiping her eyes.

“Obviously not sorry enough, because you are still not telling me everything. Vhat did you neglect to say to the inspector?”

“I don’t know what…”

Madame Koska rose from her chair and leaned over the desk. Her anger was no longer controlled, and the girl leaned back in terror as she gazed at the pale face marked with a red circle on each cheek and the burning eyes. “Stop lying, Gretchen. I have had enough. What are you hiding? You will tell me right now, or I am calling the police from this telephone on the desk. Now!”

Gretchen lowered her eyes. “It’s about my uncle, Madame Koska. But I did not think it had any connection… I really didn’t!”

“You fool! What makes you think you can judge if it has a connection? Will you ever learn that you have no understanding in this matter? What is it about your uncle?”

“He takes opium, Madame Koska. Every so often he goes down by the river to a place where other important people go, and he stays for a few days, smoking opium.”

Madame Koska stared at her wordlessly for a few seconds. Her hands, clasping the table, held it so tightly that the knuckles turned white. “A fancy opium den… Are you sure?” she finally said in a very low voice.

“Yes. I heard my aunt begging him to get medical attention so he would no longer need opium. I was not supposed to hear, but I did.”

“An opium den! This is beyond belief. Do you have any sense? Are you telling me you did not see that there may be a connection between your uncle, a habitual opium user, and the Eurasian gang, who sells opium?”

“I suppose you are right,” said Gretchen, sighing deeply. “I should have.”

“Do you realise you may be covering up for a criminal, even if he is your uncle? Anything else you kept to yourself?”

“No, honestly, that is all I know. And Madame Koska, I never meant to hurt Miss Saltykov. I like her so much! We are friends!”

“Very well,” said Madame Koska. “Tomorrow, don’t tell anyone about our talk. I’ll tell the police about it.”

“What will they do to my uncle?”

“Nothing that they were not going to do before, I presume. Watch him, and probably question him very soon.”

“So I should not tell him?”

“Gretchen, listen carefully. Don’t you dare tell him, do you hear me? It’s simply too dangerous,” said Madame Koska. “You have done enough damage. Just behave as normally as possible and we’ll see what happens tomorrow. Right now, I have to see Natalya. She had a nervous breakdown.”

“But why? She does not know anything about the gang or the brooch. She told me she had no idea which famous brooch it was, because there were so many that belonged to Catherine the Great, and were stolen by the Bolsheviks. Why is she so afraid?”

“I don’t know why,” said Madame Koska. “But one way or another, I am going to find out. Perhaps just because the police are watching her, since I don’t believe she knows anything. The police may think she is the person who attacked me, or at least his accomplice.”