Читать книгу Secret Target - Сергей Бакшеев - Страница 13

Inna Maltseva looked relaxed. Her eyes were closed and she was reclining in her chair with her arms lying limply on the armrests. Dr. Krasin held an open hand to Inna’s forehead, while his other hand supported the back of her head. His long nose was almost touching her temple and he was speaking to her in a soft and poignant voice.

«Inna, you can feel the warmth from my hands spread through you. Your fear lets go of you and you begin to feel better and better. There is nothing that has happened in your life that cannot be fixed. A minor nuisance has occurred. We are here to help you figure out and extricate you out of this situation. On the count of three, I want you to open your eyes and look at the woman before you. She is your friend. You must be honest with her. Don’t hide anything. She will help you.»

Krasin counted to three and traced a circle with his palm in front of the patient’s face. Maltseva’s eyes opened.

«You may ask your questions,» the psychiatrist whispered to the detective.

Petelina was sitting across the table from Maltseva. She brought her palms together pensively in front of her pursed lips and watched her enter hypnosis. Inna had changed. She looked like a guileless, infinitely weary woman now. Her wide-open, clear eyes awaited Petelina’s help.

Elena slowly lowered her arms and surreptitiously turned on the voice recorder. She tried to formulate her questions as tactfully as she could.

«Inna, do you remember what happened yesterday evening?»

«Yes, of course.»

«Tell me, please, what were you doing?»

«I was waiting.»

There was a pause. Maltseva’s gaze became foggy. It became evident that she was submerging herself in her memories.

«Were you waiting for an opportune moment?» the detective tried to lead her.

«Yes.»

«What was supposed to happen then?»

«I wanted to approach unnoticed.»

«Approach whom?»

«The person I wanted to kill.»

«Did you plan out the murder beforehand?»

«Yes.»

«Did you plan how you were going to do it?»

«I did.»

Petelina could not believe that Maltseva would so stubbornly ruin herself and rephrased the question:

«Try and think hard before answering, Inna: Did you want the person to die as a result of your actions?»

«Of course,» Maltseva answered naïvely.

Elena pursed her lips in disappointment. Murder in the first degree was far removed from the charge she had planned on for this poor woman who was so tormented by her impossible desire to have a child. Article 5, Section 1—murder in the first – provided for 6—15 years’ imprisonment, whereas Article 107—manslaughter in the heat of passion – entailed a maximum of up to 3 years. Meanwhile, if the court decided that Maltseva had acted with excessive cruelty, then she could even be charged under Article 104, Section 2. Then, if she was found guilty of that, she could be given life.

Elena was overcome with compassion. The psychiatrist had been right when he had remarked that her investigations vacillated between the cliffs of reason and the waves of emotion. Waves could erode the jagged edges to softness, but only rock could ensure a stable footing. Elena had to cast aside emotion and discover the truth. She had to present it in the form of clear evidence and submit it for the court’s decision. That was her job. Feelings during an investigation could only get in the way of that.

«Tell me how you put your plan into action,» Petelina asked more coldly, already anticipating the answer. The image of the crime and the murder weapon – the hair-plastered cleaver – did not leave much room to the imagination.

«I came up from behind.»

«Unnoticed?»

«Yes.»

«Go on. You came up from behind and…»

«And fired.»

Fired?! The word, pronounced so quietly, had the effect of a real gunshot.

Petelina recoiled and looked quizzically at the psychiatrist. Krasin remained unperturbed. He scribbled something on a piece of paper and passed it to the detective. Elena read: «In a state of hypnosis, she is unable to make anything up.»

The detective looked at Maltseva. The woman had an open and earnest expression on her face devoid of the slightest smirk or shade of cunning. She had given her reply and was simply waiting for the next question.

Had she told the truth then? But that was impossible!

«Inna, let’s try this again, from the beginning. You decided to commit a murder. You approached your victim from behind. And then? Do you remember the gunshot clearly?»

«Yes.»

«Then you must have the weapon somewhere.»

«The gun.» Maltseva looked at her hand, raised it and extended her index finger. «I fired. Like this.»

Inna bent her finger. Her hand jumped from the recoil and dropped to her knee.

Elena could not understand what was happening. Anton Maltsev had been killed with a cleaver – the autopsy had confirmed it. There was no handgun! There were no bullets! What the hell was the suspect talking about?

Petelina glanced at the voice recorder and mechanically asked her next question:

«Where did you aim your shot?»

«At her head. I fired and she fell.»

«She?!»