“Oh, yeah.”
“How did you two meet?” Arkady asked. “At the fish market? On a tenants’ committee?”
“Not quite. At a drop.”
A “drop” was where men picked up prostitutes. It could be a traffic overpass, a pedestrian underpass, a children’s playground.
“I had a fight with a guy and I wasn’t in good shape. Tatiana saw me and took me in.”
“Like that?”
“Like that. She owned two apartments and she set me up here across from hers.”
“To protect you?”
“I dunno.”
“When was the last time you talked to her?”
“The day of the accident, a week ago.”
“How did she seem? Happy, normal, depressed?”
“Down.” The cats sensed something was wrong. They mewed the whole day. “Well, we’re here.”
He leaned against the wall and calculated how long it would take to roll down to the bottom. A police seal was plastered across the door and frame, and the door was locked. There were no signs of forced entry.
“So the police had a key?”
“I suppose. She always kept her door locked.”
“Where would they get a key?”
“Why are you asking all these questions? Everyone says it was suicide.”
“Can we talk in your apartment?”
Svetlana balked. “I dunno. Is this going to get me into trouble? Tatiana told me my rights. I don’t have to let anybody in.”
Arkady sneezed.
“How many cats?” he asked.
“Six. Do you like cats? I always feel they’re a good judge of character. You have to let them come to you.”
“Oh, they come.”
In Arkady’s experience, cats knew instantly who was allergic and gravitated to them. “You know, I’m like most people. Sometimes I forget my key or I can’t find it, so I give a copy to a neighbor. Now, you’re the only one here. You were doing Tatiana a favor.”
No response.
“The police report said that a neighbor heard screaming. That was you, right?” He gave her time to answer before he added, “Did the screaming start inside or outside on the balcony?”
Svetlana wiped her nose.
“Did she scream or did she shout? There’s a difference.”
Tears blurred her eyes but she said nothing.
“Did she call your name? You were the only other person in the building. Didn’t she know you were home?”
“I’ll get you the key,” Svetlana said.
There, he thought, not much crueler than carving out the answer with a knife. He needed the key. For an investigator, that excused everything, and when she opened her door, he stepped in after her.
A modest attempt had been made to turn the front room into a seraglio. Cheap Indian bedspreads hung in swags on the walls and over a narrow bed. A lava lamp stood on a nightstand, the lava limp on the bottom. Otherwise, Arkady saw nothing that couldn’t be fit into a suitcase for a quick getaway. And cats. They swarmed over and around Arkady’s feet, mewing piteously. While he was immobilized, Svetlana went to a connecting room and returned with a shiny, freshly cut key.
“A new copy?” Arkady asked.
“I’m so disorganized. I keep losing them.”
Most of the cats were gray striped, one a tabby, and another white.
“They earn their keep. Every night I chase them out to catch rats, except Snowflake.” She picked up the white cat. “Snowflake likes to hide and stay behind.”
“You discovered her body?”
“Yes. There was no one else to hear her scream.”
“Exactly what did you hear?”
Svetlana set the cat down. “Noises.”
“Noises like. .?”
“I don’t know. Furniture being moved.”
“She was your friend. Did you go to her door to ask why she would be moving furniture at midnight?”
“No.”
“Did she ever bring men to her apartment?”
“Of course. She was a very busy writer. That’s the thing about being like me and a writer like her, you meet all types.”
“All types?”
“She was involved in a lot of causes.”
“Such as. .?”
“Chechens, criminals, veterans.”
“Violent types?”
“Sure.”
“Were they violent with her?”
“No. Anyway, the police said it was suicide.”
“After moving her furniture.”
“The police said her door was locked. She was alone.”
“These officers, did you get their names?”
“Just police. They took my name in case there were questions.”
“Were there?”
“No.”
“But you identified her?”
“Yeah. What a mess.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Thank you. You’re the first one to say so.”
His questions were repetitious, even confusing. It was like walking all around a horse before buying it. From the time Svetlana heard the scream until she found the body, how much time had elapsed? Five minutes? Ten?
“More like five.”
“It took you five minutes to react?”
“I guess so.”
It took a healthy young woman that long to descend six flights of stairs? If Svetlana was not an unreliable witness, her story had holes and ellipses.
“You’re sure you were alone in your apartment?”
“Yes. I told you before.”
“Right. How long are you going to stay here?”
“I don’t know. It’s day-to-day.”
Or minute-to-minute, Arkady thought. He took her cell phone number and gave her his card. “If you remember anything else, give me a call.”
Svetlana asked, “Those five minutes, do you think she was still alive?”
“From that fall? I think she died instantly. I doubt she felt a thing.”
“Who would do that?”
“I don’t know, I think Tatiana Petrovna had so many enemies they were tripping over each other.”
