‘Can I go now?’ Lomatkin said. ‘I have to call Moscow.’
‘Yes, but I’ll want to talk to you again. When do you plan to leave?’
Again, that slight shift – was it a sign of nervousness, or something else? Once again, Korolev had a feeling he’d missed something.
‘As soon as we’re finished with the defences.’
Korolev shook his head. There was more to be discovered from the man, and he’d find out what it was. ‘I’m sorry, Citizen Lomatkin, that won’t be possible. I require you to remain here until I’m sure you have assisted us as much as possible with the enquiry. You can’t leave here until then.’
Lomatkin opened his mouth to protest.
‘My authority is absolute in this matter,’ Korolev continued. ‘Don’t doubt me on this.’
Lomatkin considered the statement for a moment, then got to his feet.
‘I want to assist you in any way I can, Captain. Masha didn’t deserve to die this way, and you have to believe me – I’d never have wanted such a thing to happen to her.’
Which was odd, Korolev thought to himself, as that wasn’t the same as saying he’d nothing to do with her death.
Chapter Fourteen
After Lomatkin had left, Korolev sat behind the teacher’s desk, going through his notes. There were plenty of things to follow up, certainly, but his thoughts kept coming back to his conversation with Kolya earlier in the day, and each time they did he felt his stomach turn. If this had something to do with counterrevolutionaries, then everything else might as well be smoke. These lines of enquiry looked like they might amount to something, yes, but perhaps all they were doing was obscuring the real motive for the murder – which was this damned conspiracy of Kolya’s. Korolev considered passing Kolya’s revelations on to Rodinov for the tenth time, and for the tenth time decided not to. There was no point in putting his head into the lion’s mouth, after all, even if he sensed it might be there already.
In the end he was relieved to be distracted by a single sharp knock on the door, and looked up to see it being pushed open. The elderly lady with the military bearing from the previous day entered, regarded him for a moment, then stepped forward.
‘They said you were here. Korolev, isn’t it?’ Her walking stick thumped across the wooden floorboards towards him.
‘Yes,’ Korolev said, rising to his feet and half-wondering if he should salute her. ‘We met yesterday, Comrade Mushkina.’
‘Don’t stand. No need for that, we’re all comrades here. Now listen, Korolev, I’ve a favour to ask of you.’
Korolev settled uncomfortably back into his seat, while Mushkina stayed standing, leaning sideways onto her stick.
‘I’ve responsibility for the Agricultural College here, you see, and you’ve arrested Andreychuk, the caretaker. You can’t seriously believe the man to be a murderer, can you? He’s harmless.’
Korolev didn’t like to say that murderers often seemed harmless, and that anyone who’d fought through the Civil War knew all about killing and would be lucky not to have blood on their hands – particularly if they’d fought in the Ukraine.
‘At this moment,’ he said, after a short pause, ‘I remain to be convinced that Citizen Andreychuk killed the girl. I’d like to talk to him again, however, and find out what else he might have to tell me, but that isn’t the reason he’s being held.’
‘Why, then? And is there a good reason you can’t let him work while you continue your enquiries? Nearly all the rest of the staff are off with the students and these film people need looking after.’
‘It’s a matter for your son, Comrade. It turns out that Citizen Andreychuk was an officer in the Petlyurist army and has concealed his real identity for many years. So it seems to me that he’ll have to answer for that to State Security, if nothing else. It’s out of my hands.’
‘A Petlyurist, you say?’ She spoke quietly, not showing any of the normal indications of surprise.
‘According to his testimony.’ Korolev flicked through his notebook before coming to the correct page. ‘His real name is Timoshenko. He comes from Angelinivka, it’s about thirty-five kilometres from here. Near Krasnogorka.’
‘I know the place.’
‘I’m sorry to tell you that he’s confessed to having fought against the Revolution during the Civil War, possessing false papers and assuming a false identity. All of which are, of course, crimes. And it turns out he was the dead girl’s father as well.’
‘Her father?’ Mushkina repeated, surprise finally revealing itself. If she’d known about, or suspected, his assumed identity, she clearly knew nothing about this.
‘Yes,’ Korolev said, closing his notebook.
‘Her father?’ She pronounced the last word with something approaching indignation. ‘Now that’s a surprise to me. His identity’s one thing, but that he managed to conceal his relationship to the girl, well, that puts a different perspective on things. And you don’t think he had anything to do with her murder? It happens – even in the closest families.’
That was true, the large majority of murders were committed by family members or close associates of the deceased.
‘Our investigation is not concluded.’
‘And you intend to charge him?’
‘For the false papers? My authority only extends to this specific investigation; what to do about the other matters will be a decision for Major Mushkin.’
‘I see. I’ll talk to him. But you wouldn’t have any objection if he’s released into my care. I’ll take full responsibility, of course.’
‘If the major is happy, then I am, Comrade Mushkina.’
She nodded, giving him a small smile that seemed intended to represent gratitude, but her face was clearly unused to such a manoeuvre and the smile seemed more of an expression of pain than civility.
‘Very good. Thank you, Captain.’
She turned to leave, then paused. ‘You said he was honest in his response to your enquiries. What does that mean?’
‘It means what I said, Comrade Mushkina.’
‘Does it mean you have an idea who killed the girl?’
‘We’re still at an early stage of the investigation.’
‘And you would like to talk to me as part of that investigation, I presume.’
‘Yes, I would.’
Mushkina turned back and sat down in the seat that Lomatkin had so recently vacated.
‘Then we should talk immediately,’ she said.
Korolev hadn’t prepared for this interview, but he opened a clean page in his notebook.
‘Let me start at the beginning,’ he said. ‘When did Andreychuk come to work for the College?’
‘In ’thirty-three.’
‘So you were already here then?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I took up the post at the end of ’thirty-one. My health was failing and I was no longer able to take such an active role in the Party. But I wished still to be of use and so I came here.’
She made a graceful gesture with her hand to encompass the room.
‘That must have been at the height of the push for collectivization in these parts?’
Korolev wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for with his question, but an angry blush appeared on her cheeks and, when she answered, her irritation was clear.
‘I’m not sure what you’re suggesting, Captain Korolev.’
‘I was thinking it must have been hard coming out into the countryside at that time. I didn’t mean to offend
