well.’
‘So you still don’t see him in the picture for the murderer?’
‘When we catch him we’ll see what we can get out of him – I’ve a feeling he’ll have a story or two to tell us. But for now I want to find out about this trip they took. Seeing as it’s so close to the border, it could fit Kolya’s information as well.’
‘We’ll see what tomorrow brings,’ Slivka said, taking a mouthful of food and Korolev had to wait while she ate. ‘As for this Babel rumour, I’ve been going through the interviews earlier, the ones that the uniforms did. Babel is one of the people we haven’t been able to confirm as being at the night shoot.’
Korolev thought he knew the writer well enough to be pretty certain his friend was no killer. That was inconceivable. He’d a suspicion Babel would happily sit down with a murderer in a bar and drink with him while listening to his story, but that was another thing – a different thing. His curiosity was undeniable, but that didn’t mean he’d ever actually pull the trigger on someone, or garrotte them for that matter.
‘Anyone else we’re missing?’ he asked.
‘All the crew are accounted for, although one or two of the actors aren’t. At least so far – the actress Sorokina, for example.’
Which reminded Korolev about what Babel had said to Sorokina about not giving away all her secrets. Perhaps it had been a warning.
‘What are you thinking, Alexei Dmitriyevich?’
‘I’m thinking you need to talk to Sorokina and I need to talk to Babel.’
The writer looked disgruntled in the candlelight – the electricity was off for some reason, a power cut or some pressing industrial need, perhaps. On top of which the empty classroom was as cold as a prison cell. Korolev had bundled him out of bed and marched him across to the stable block, but Babel at least had had the good sense to put on his trousers, his boots and a heavy overcoat.
‘I think now is as good a time as any to tell me about your relationship with Masha Lenskaya. Don’t you?’
‘What relationship?’ Babel’s irritation at his treatment was clear. There would be none of his usual jocularity this evening.
‘That’s what I want you to tell me. I’ve been informed, by a reliable source, that you were more than a friend to her. More like a lover – or so they’re saying.’
‘That’s ridiculous, who could think such a thing? Me, a middle-aged man, seducing a girl half my age? Do they really think such a thing is possible?’ But the idea that he was still thought capable of seducing young women had apparently improved his mood.
‘How old are you?’ Korolev asked.
‘How old do you think I am?’ Babel lifted his head, interested.
‘Isaac, tell me about the girl,’ Korolev asked with a patience he didn’t feel.
‘Forty-two, as it happens.’
‘So not twice her age, then. She was twenty-six. I don’t know why you think it’s strange – I don’t think Tonya is much older.’
Babel raised an eyebrow at the mention of his wife.
‘I wasn’t sleeping with Masha Lenskaya, Alexei. Yes, I knew her, that’s true – a lot of people knew her, after all. I may have provided fatherly advice from time to time but no more than that.’
‘Fatherly?’
‘Yes. Fatherly. Or perhaps more like the advice an uncle might give. Or possibly an aunt familiar with the world.’
‘Aunt-like?’
‘Something approximating to aunt-like, yes. Really, Korolev, you’re a prude under that dynamite-proof cynicism of yours. We would speak from time to time, she and I. Not so strange. The girl had no living relatives, or so she thought, and she enjoyed having someone like me to talk to. Anyway, I’ve told you all this – that I knew her and what my assessment was of her character. I didn’t think I needed to spell out every single detail. If you don’t believe me, I’m beginning to think our friendship is built on sand.’
Well, Yasimov had only said the girl was ‘friendly’ with Babel. Perhaps on this occasion the rumours had been incorrect. Korolev took out his cigarettes and offered one to Babel – a peace offering.
‘Isaac, I warn you. Now’s the time to tell me the truth about Lenskaya. If there’s anything I should know – spit it out.’
‘When have I ever lied to you, Alexei? I had a relationship with her but it was a pure one.’
‘Aunt-like.’
‘Exactly.’
Korolev decided to give the writer the benefit of the doubt, but he wasn’t finished with him just yet.
‘Isaac. Last night, just before I was going to interview Sorokina, you told her not to go giving away her intimate secrets. What did you mean by that?’
For the briefest of moments Babel looked like a small boy caught with his hand in a jar of sweets.
‘You see, we’ve been doing our best to account for everyone’s whereabouts at the time of the murder, Isaac,’ Korolev continued. ‘You seem to be missing. And so does Comrade Sorokina.’
‘All right, all right. I was with Barikada. An innocent walk in the moonlight, nothing to get het up about.’
Korolev sighed. It was the sigh of a weary man being made even more weary by the antics of others.
‘You should have told us straight away – now it looks bad. Did you spend the entire time with Sorokina? And I mean every moment.’
‘Yes.’
‘Now tell me about this walk.’
‘It was a walk. I wasn’t needed on the set and neither was Sorokina. We slipped off. We’re old friends, you see. We left just after the filming started and were back for the last take – nine-thirty.’
‘I see, and you’re sure she didn’t leave your sight – while I can’t see any reason for you to kill the girl, she’s a different story.’
‘Barikada? A killer?’
‘She was Ezhov’s mistress.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ Babel said, stubbing out the cigarette on the sole of his boot, ‘but she had nothing to do with the girl’s death – I’ll swear to that. I didn’t lie to you, Alexei, I just didn’t tell you everything. I thought it was for the best. Not so much for my sake, as for hers. She’s with Savchenko now, you see, and if her walk with me had come to light it might have complicated matters. Not just for her, but for me as well.’
‘This is a murder investigation, Isaac. It’s not up to you to decide what you should tell me.’
‘I understand that-’ Babel began.
Korolev held up a hand to stop him. ‘Don’t bother. Is there anything you need to tell me about this moonlight walk of yours?’
‘Only that I think you can rule out Andreychuk as the killer.’ Babel put a hand in his pocket and produced what seemed to be a list of names. ‘I looked for you earlier to give you this, but I couldn’t find you. These are the names of the people we have identified in each scene and the times of filming. Andreychuk first appears at eighteen minutes past eight and is in every scene until the end.’
Babel handed him the piece of paper.
‘I see,’ Korolev said, looking over it. ‘But there is still a small window of opportunity.’
‘No, there’s a scene that was filmed just before eight which he isn’t in. It had to be reshot because a soundman dropped his microphone boom in front of the camera. Barikada and I were there for that scene, whatever your witnesses may say.’
Korolev looked through the list of scenes, each with a precise time and a list of names. Andreychuk’s appeared in each one, sure enough.
‘Well?’ Korolev said, not sure why this was as significant as Babel seemed to think.
‘We saw Lenskaya after that. At about ten minutes past eight, I would say. She was sitting at her typewriter in her office and alive.’
‘But why didn’t you tell us this before?’ Korolev said, mystified.
