Mad Mikolaj in To Russia, with Milena, part II

 

Jędrek took charge of Yevheny. The Cossack seemed to find the whole business very amusing.

“If you’re spying in preparation for an uprising, I don’t want to know,” said Mikołaj. “You silly buggers chose Russia over Poland under Chmielnicki, and it’s no skin off my nose if you want to be free of them. It’s not my business unless you ask Poland for aid, and heal the rift. Not sure what our little trifler would do, but... well, not my bear, not my bearskin. I ask you nicely to leave my lands alone and also Paweł, his minnow, and the sprat.”

“I hear you,” said the Cossack.

He was not protesting vehemently that he was not a spy.

 

“How long have you known that Cossack drover?” asked Pavel.

“Eh? Oh, met him at your gates on the way in, nice herd of sheep, thought they’d add nicely to mine,” said Mikołaj.

“I’m not convinced he isn’t a spy. Honestly, Mikołaj! You’re far too trusting; look how fast you made friends with me!”

“I’m a trusting sort of fellow,” said Mikołaj. “Except of magnates. They don’t count as human. All that gold weighs their souls down and they reason out of their red boots.”

Pavel levelled his quizzing glass at Mikołaj’s red-shod feet.

“You were saying?” he said.

“But they’re pretty,” said Mikołaj.

“Vanitas vanitatum, omnia est Mikołaj,” said Pavel.

“My treasure, my pet! You understand me!”

“It’s a good job you never got a scar on your face from a duel,” said Pavel.

“It’s one reason to make sure I’m as good as I can be,” said Mikołaj. “But of course, any scar on my face would merely lend distinction to features otherwise too beautiful to bear.”

“I love you, Mikołaj, you rogue!”

“And I love you, my little spy!”

“I think I’ll come on to your lands with you, and keep half an eye on your spare Cossack, and his subversive sheep,” said Pavel.

“I assure you, they do not have highly-trained attack-midgets in their fleeces. I already asked Yevheny that,” said Mikołaj.

“He wouldn’t be likely to tell you if he had,” said Pavel, absently. “Highly trained attack midgets? Where do you get your imagination?”

“It’s a gift,” said Mikołaj, modestly.

They were interrupted by the butler.

“My lord, one of your police force is here,” he said.

“Show him in,” said Pavel.

The young man came in, and saluted, and looked warily at Mikołaj.

“He’s harmless,” said Pavel.

“I object to that,” said Mikołaj.

Pavel gave him an exasperated look of affection.

“You’re harmless to me and to my job,” he said. “Ignore my friend, Ivanov.”

“Yes, my lord,” said the policeman, dubiously. “My lord, I have to report that Count Arkadi Vasilievitch Teglev has been shot.”

“Shot! You mean by accident or murder?” asked Pavel.

Mikołaj sat forward.

“Would this be the Arkady Basyliewicz Tegłew who was an attaché for many years in Poland?”

“Yes, he has not long returned,” said Pavel.

“Then I make this my business,” said Mikołaj. “Moreover, when we had our little run-in with bandit on our way here the first time, there were letters from him, to one Lara, the address Larisa Menszichow.”

“Ah, yes, the Princess Larisa Menshikov,” said Pavel. “It’s an old story and a sad one. Lara and Arkady fell in love; but as a younger son of a minor branch, there was no expectation of him being allowed to marry her; she was better born than him.  And her family arranged a marriage with  prince of the Menshikov family.  And Lara’s husband made an agreement with her, that once she had given him an heir, he would leave her in peace providing she limited her romance to writing to her lover, and not see him, and he would take what mistresses he desired.”

“Not very equitable,” said Mikołaj.  “No chance that it is suicide because he can’t bear living close to her?”,

“Her husband died a few days ago,” said Pavel.

“Of natural causes?”

“A hunting accident with no suspicious circumstances,” said Pavel. “And yes, I’ve examined every letter between them, and I’ve heated them; you see, I recall your schoolboy pranks.  They had a pact, that their love survived, despite separation. Since Teglev returned, they have corresponded daily, and I have read the letters, and checked them. Because it is my job. And there is no hint of a plot to kill the prince. What was in the letter you had?”

“Mostly romantic twaddle, nothing very robust. It read like a bad French romance.”

“Well, that is how it is; with the additional twist of tragedy to make it authentically Russian.”

“Good; then, let us go and see the body.”

 

oOoOo

 

An elderly woman was wringing her hands over the body, which was in the study of the fine house.

“I did not hear anything, my lord,” she said.

“Your bedroom is at some distance from the study? I perceive he is wearing a banyan. Which staff were still up?” asked Pavel.

“Oh, we only have the ground floor. Milord let out the rest; his fortune is not huge. I am the only servant left, I am Katya, housekeeper, and we have in a girl on Mondays and Thursdays to clean and help with the heavy work,” said the woman. “I sleep off the kitchen. It used to be a scullery. A scullery! What use do we have nowadays of sculleries? Milord spent all day working on his memoirs, and I cooked small meals... he never has been a big eater, and I, I am old, and do not need much.”

Mikołaj was examining the body.

“Paweł,” he said, “This man has been shot at least four times; which argues at least two people with two pistols each, for I cannot see any housebreaker calmly re-loading. You are, perhaps, deaf, Katya?”

“I am not deaf! But I did not hear the shots. I was probably asleep. I would take him supper, Vodka and biscuits, and then go to bed. If he liked to spoil his eyesight writing half the night, what was it to me?” she scowled. “I don’t know what you mean about needing two people. Milord’s gun fired many shots.”

“Oho, like this?” Mikołaj produced his own multi-chambered pistol.

“Yes, that is it! Put it away, milord, I beg you!” cried Katya. “Where... where did you find it?”

“Oh, this is mine,” said Mikołaj. “Several of us in Poland have them, it makes dealing with brigands easier. I expect your master saw one and had his own made.”

“So. Where did Teglev keep his pistol?” asked Pavel.

“In that drawer,” Katya said, pointing with a tremulous finger.

The drawer, when opened, held nothing but spare ink.

“Ivanov, go and look outside the window, and see if you can find this mysterious cannon,” said Pavel. “It must have been someone he knew very well to coolly help himself to a gun and fire it at him. Were any shots potentially immediately fatal, Mikołaj?”

“The one to the left temple,” said Mikołaj. “If I hadn’t laid my hand on top of another, I might have said ‘suicide’ without further thought, but his shirt shows three sources of bleeding.” He added, “But not much bleeding, you know,” he added. “One I fancy winged the collar-bone, and one might understand it not bleeding much. But the shot into the gut and the one under the rib cage should have bled more. So that suggests to me that the shot to the head happened some few minutes before two of the body shots.

“Odd,” said Pavel. “You think he was maybe shot in the head and then the other three shots were to make sure?”

“Could be,” said Mikołaj. “The one in the gut almost has to have hit the liver, and that’s usually a very messy wound. Of course, blood might have pooled in the body cavity. I think you’ll need to cut him open to find out.”

“No! No!” cried Katya. “I killed him! I, who was his nurse when he was a little boy, when his father owned all this house and lived in it! I did not want him to marry that woman now her husband is dead, she has leached all the life from him!”

Pavel sighed.

“You could have run, you know,” he said.

“She didn’t kill him, I don’t think,” said Mikołaj. “There are powder stains on his temple from how close the gun was held. There are none on his shirt, and no holes in the banyan, which was closed after shooting his body. She would not have the resolve to hold a gun to his head; did you not see her revulsion to my gun? I think the letter burned in the grate might be valuable, if you can make out any of the words burned white in the black surface.”

Pavel looked, and read.

“My dear Kanya,

You something something something, ands death...”

“’You will have heard of my husband’s death,’ probably,” said Mikołaj.

“More than likely. I something, something, get married. My ... the rest is missing on that line.

“’I am sure you will be waiting for us to get married,’” said Mikołaj. “The missing may be an endearment.

“Likely,” said Pavel. “My son is now Prince and he says...  the rest of that line and the next is missing. The following line, I am not made to be poor, my Kanja, so this is... something.”

“’Farewell forever’ would fit,” said Mikołaj. “And easy enough for you to check. I wonder why he would burn this.”

“I would have thought in a fit of anger?” said Pavel.

“The unburned bit which fell in the grate has dark staining. It looks like blood to me,” said Mikołaj. “I think he shot himself when he read the letter, leaving portions of his blood and brains on the letter on his desk. I think Katya then found his body after hearing the shot, was afraid her nurseling would be denied burial under the church for being a suicide. And she picked up the gun, and pointed it at him, and I wager she turned her head away and just pulled the trigger as many times as it had barrels. Am I right, Katya?”

She sobbed, nodding.

“Well! If he was dead, it was no crime,” said Pavel. “Not by any law I administer.”

“Write it up and file it closed, we shan’t interfere with a story of a prowler,” said Mikołaj. “And Katya must bear on her conscience that she wasted police time, and acted a lie, and she must carry that technical sin unshriven until he’s been buried long enough that the church won’t bother to disinter him.”

“Can you not execute me for the murder of my master in a jealous rage?” pleaded Katya.

“No, I think that would go easier on you than considering your conscience,” said Mikołaj. “I’d have done the same in your shoes, but I would have carried my sin to my grave, and taken my time in purgatory. You have chosen to cover a scandal, so you must follow it through.”