from her aunt’s unusually prolonged silence that the older woman had something to say.
“Well?” asked Elena, her back to her aunt. She added a bit of the quickly diminishing contents of a jar of basil.
“Porfiry Petrovich called,” Anna said.
Elena continued stirring and made no comment.
“He asked how I was doing and promised to visit soon,” Anna went on. “He’ll be here within the week. He is a man of his word.”
Her back still turned to her aunt, Elena added pepper and laughed quietly.
“He also talked about you,” Anna said.
“What did he say?”
“That you were angry and that he would discuss it with you soon. I volunteered to talk to you.”
“I displayed no anger,” Elena said, gripping her stirring spoon tightly and pushing Bakunin gently away with her foot.
“You do not hide your feelings well, Elena,” Anna said.
“I’m working on it. I’ve had less than a year on the job.”
“Work harder,” said Anna. “It’s something about an old woman and a theft of valuable antiques.”
“He gave me the case,” Elena said, now turning, spoon in her fist, voice reasonably calm and low. She had a tendency to raise her voice when excited.
“And then?” asked Anna as she turned on the second light in the room.
“Then he took it from me-called the old woman in, intimidated her, threatened security guards, and allowed me to ask a few prepared questions.”
“He found the antiques and caught the thieves, with your help,” Anna said, moving to the stove where the teapot was beginning to whistle gently. She removed the pot before it made the screeching sound that sent the cat hiding under the bed in the other room.
“Yes.” Elena turned down the heat and reached for another spice. Their collection was not great, but her need to keep her hands occupied was more important at that moment than the resulting flavor of the soup.
“Had he waited for you to investigate, what would have happened?” asked Anna. She was in the process of preparing three cups of tea.
“Happened? I would have eventually won the woman’s full confidence. She would-”
“By the time you won her confidence, where would these valuable books and antiques have been?”
Elena shrugged and continued to destroy the soup.
“They would be dispersed among collectors and dealers. The state would have nothing, and you would still be trying to earn the old woman’s confidence.”
“Perhaps,” said Elena.
“Porfiry Petrovich has a great deal of pressure on him from those above,” said Anna. “It was he who would be held responsible if the crime was not solved quickly.”
“He could have talked to me,” Elena said, looking at the dark, simmering soup and wondering for an instant what kind it was. She remembered and took it off the burner.
When she turned, she saw that her aunt had set the table, put out the tea, and sliced thick pieces of bread. Baku was in the third chair.
“He talked to me. I am talking to you. Your job is to do what Porfiry Petrovich tells you to do,” said Anna, pouring cups of tea for all three of them.
“And if I don’t like it?” asked Elena grimly. She sat down in her chair.
“Many times our Porfiry Petrovich did not agree with an order I gave him,” said Anna with a smile, setting a cup of tea on Bakunin’s chair.
“But he did what he was told,” Elena said wearily.
“No, he did what he wanted to do if he could get away with it,” said Anna. “And though I was often extremely angry with him, his way usually worked. There is no single right way to approach any case, and the pressures from above are always frantic and in conflict with one another.”
“So,” Elena said, pouring soup. “I should ignore what my superior officer tells me? Less than a year on the job, the only woman in the department, and I should ignore my superior officer?”
“No,” said Anna. She held a spoon suspended in the air as she looked down suspiciously at the dark brew in the bowl before her. “You should do what he tells you. You should learn from him. I’d say you are a year or two away from defying him. Remember, however, when you do decide to defy him, do it quietly and be sure you are right, at least most of the time.”
“I’ll lose my job,” Elena said, tasting the soup. It wasn’t too bad.
“I don’t think so,” said Anna.
“Aunt Anna,” said Elena, reaching for a piece of bread, “if you were back as a procurator and someone asked you to describe me, what would you say in your report? Be honest.”
Anna continued to eat, glancing down at the cat to be sure he had made a reasonable attack on the tea. As she spoke, she poured a bowl of soup for Baku and blew on it.
“Five feet five inches tall. Weight, around one hundred forty pounds. Figure full but well proportioned. Fairly large breasts, firm. Hair a light brown, cut short. Eyes a very dark brown. Complexion excellent, skin rosy. Nose straight. Perhaps a touch of the Oriental in her quite-pretty face.”
“Thank you,” Elena said.
“It is not flattery. It is accuracy. You want more accuracy?”
“Why not?”
“The soup is edible but not very good.”
“It is the price we pay for living together,” said Elena. “Baku likes it.”
“Baku’s charm,” said Anna, looking approvingly at the cat, who leaned over his bowl, “is his unpredictability. One morning he leaps into my lap and naps. Another morning he lurks and turns from me.”
Elena looked up at her aunt and paused, spoon halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Mean? Just what I said,” said Anna, not quite ready to re-attack the soup, and then she understood. Anna was well experienced in picking up the unexpected hint of reaction from a suspect.
“Who?” she asked.
“Who?” Elena repeated, drinking rather quickly and reaching for another slice of bread.
“The man who seems interested one day, indifferent the next,” said Anna. “The one who makes you ask me questions about how you look.”
“No one,” said Elena.
“No one,” said Anna.
“It does not interfere with my work,” Elena said.
“I didn’t claim that it did,” said Anna. “It may, however, have contributed to your anger at Porfiry Petrovich.”
“So,” said Elena, banging her spoon on the table, “because you think I am interested in his son, you think I can’t do my job. Because I am a love-starved woman-”
“The men are worse,” said Anna. “But they have learned to hide it better.”
“Now you are a psychiatrist,” said Elena sarcastically.
“I am a former deputy procurator, the highest rank a woman has yet achieved in the Russian procurator’s office, and likely to be the only one since the system is being torn apart. That is better than being a psychiatrist.”
“I’m tired,” said Elena.
“Go to bed. I’ll do the dishes.”
“If you like, I’ll play a game of chess first,” said Elena, standing.
“A good game of chess requires desire, mind, and heart,” said Anna, starting to rise. “I don’t think you could give me any of these tonight.”
Elena had begun sleeping in the tiny bedroom while Anna and Baku slept on the sofa. It had been Anna’s preference. She rose frequently during the night and read or listened to the radio or both. Besides, for reasons that were clear only to those who had built this one-story concrete building around a concrete courtyard, the bathroom was located not in the bedroom but in a corner of the slightly larger living room. Anna’s visits to the
