“In that case, Yulia Yalutshkin, you may go in the outer office and begin making the list. You may smoke there if you wish. Oleg Kisolev, you may leave. On your way out, tell Inspector Rostnikov that I would like to see him.”
Oleg Kisolev rose, clearly dazed by what had happened. He looked at Yulia, who led him to the office door and opened it. A few seconds later, Iosef entered the Yak’s office, closing the door behind him. Iosef approached the Yak’s desk, looking at Yevgeny Pleshkov, hiding his curiosity.
“Take this, Inspector Rostnikov,” the Yak said, handing him the second version of what had taken place. “Give it to Pankov. Tell him to transcribe it and give a copy to you, to me, and to Chief Inspector Porfiry Petrovich Rostnikov.”
Iosef looked at Yevgeny Pleshkov, who appeared to be his well-known, often-seen old self, confident, alert, with what might be a knowing smile.
Iosef took the tape, waited for more information or some questions. There was no more. He left the office, again closing the door behind him.
There was silence in the Yak’s office for several minutes.
“It seems that I owe you a great deal,” said Pleshkov.
“Yes,” said the Yak. “I would say that you do.”
Maya was packing when Porfiry Petrovich arrived. Pulcharia was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to get through a book about bears. The child had looked up when Rostnikov entered the small apartment. She squinted, smiled, and went back to her book. She would, he knew, soon need glasses, which was odd since neither of her parents nor her grandmother wore them.
The baby appeared to be sleeping.
Maya closed the door behind Rostnikov. She was wearing a very plain amber dress and her hair needed brushing.
“I know why you are here,” she said. “I will listen to you while I finish packing, not that I have much to pack, not that there is anything you can say.”
She turned and went into the bedroom. Rostnikov followed.
There were three suitcases on the bed. One was closed. Maya went to dresser drawers and continued to pack the children’s clothing and her own.
Maya was darkly beautiful and she looked no older, though quite a bit wiser, than she had before she had the children.
“He will be finished with this assignment tonight,” said Rostnikov. “Can you wait?”
“What is there to wait for?” she asked. “He would try to stop me. He would fail. The children would be upset. The baby would cry. No, it is best if I am gone when he comes home.”
“And Pulcharia?” he asked.
“I’ve told her we are going to visit her cousins in Kiev,” said Maya, folding a red sweater. “She is looking forward to it.”
Rostnikov looked around for someplace to sit. There were no chairs in the small bedroom, and the bed itself was cluttered. He would have to stand.
“There is something you are not telling me or yourself, Maya Tkach,” he said.
“You are wrong,” she said, putting the sweater neatly into the suitcase. “I can no longer take Sasha’s absences, absences in which I know he is sometimes with other women. Each time he confesses.
Each time I forgive. Each time he does it again. And if Lydia comes through my door one more time and I am here, I will go mad and order her out. Sasha has been depressed and brooding for more than a year. I am not a saint, Porfiry Petrovich.”
“Which means you have had your revenge,” said Rostnikov.
“And now you don’t want to face telling Sasha what you have done.”
“No,” she said, moving past him to the dresser and picking up a pile of underwear.
“You do not meet my eyes. You want to be out of here before Sasha sees you. You suddenly decide that this is the day you must leave. What is your secret, Maya? Why are you running away? What has your revenge been?”
“I told you why I am going,” she said, folding a child’s dress.
“And I am sure that what you told me is true,” he said. “But what have you not told me?”
Maya laughed and kept packing. “This is your method?” she said. “I have heard about it from Sasha, but now I am the victim of your sympathetic, insistent probing. I. .”
“Mama,” said Pulcharia, appearing in the doorway, book in hand. “What is a
“It is a waterfall,” Maya said, pausing to look at her daughter. “A place where the water comes down from a hill or a mountain and joins a river.”
“Are there really places like that?”
“Yes,” said Maya.
“Are there any near Kiev?”
“No.”
“Why are you crying?” asked Pulcharia.
“I am not,” Maya said.
“Is he making you cry?” Pulcharia asked, pointing at Rostnikov.
“No,” said Maya. “You go back in and read. I have to finish packing and talking to Porfiry Petrovich.”
The child ran out of the room.
Maya stopped packing and turned to look at Rostnikov. She was crying. Rostnikov had never seen her cry. She had always seemed so strong.
“Sasha has cheated, lied, driven me nearly to the level of depression in which he moves all the time. He is dissatisfied with me, the children, everything but his work, and I would guess that his at-titude is affecting even that, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Rostnikov, “but he does his job well.”
“And,” said Maya, “by my count, he has had sex with six women other than me since we have been married. The most recent was within the last two days. I could hear the guilt in his voice. It is enough. What do I get out of this marriage? What do my children get?”
“A father,” said Porfiry Petrovich. “What did you do, Maya?”
“I spent a few hours in bed with one of our clients,” she said, folding her arms in an attempt at defiance which she couldn’t quite maintain. “He is Japanese. He was very gentle. He has a wife and family in Japan. If I stay here, I will sleep with him again.”
“Does Sasha know?”
“No,” she said. “I lied to him, but I’m afraid I lied badly, whether because I am a bad liar or I wanted Sasha to know.”
“May I suggest that you never tell him,” said Rostnikov. “He does not know.”
“It makes no difference now,” she said, continuing her packing.
“Maya Tkach,” Rostnikov said with a sigh. “I too am having a very bad day. Sarah may need more surgery. Elena has been mauled by a dog. I have just arrested a woman who lost her only child, and the skies refuse to rain. I think the fact that it will not rain is upsetting me more than anything else at the moment.”
“I’m sorry,” Maya said with real concern.
“Give me a bright moment,” he said. “Stay till you talk to Sasha face to face. Give him one more chance. Give yourself and the children one more chance. I am asking you shamelessly. I am laying bare my wounds.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, sitting on the bed. “But. . will Sarah be all right?”
“There is all right and there is all right,” he said. “Think seriously about staying, at least for a while.”
Maya nodded. A lock of hair fell over her forehead. She shook it back in a gesture that surely came from Sasha Tkach.
“You don’t want to lose a good inspector,” she said.
“I don’t want to lose close friends,” he corrected. “I have lost too many of them. I must go.”
“I will consider,” she said, “but. .”
