Читать книгу Secret Target - Сергей Бакшеев - Страница 15

What to do with the woman’s delirious ravings? Put them on the back burner or check out the details right away?

Detective Petelina preferred to be proactive. From a professional perspective, she had just received new information and now needed to corroborate Inna Maltseva’s testimony. Her hand cultivated mindless ornaments on a sheet of paper.

«Detective Petelina, this is Captain Valeyev reporting!» Valeyev’s cheerful voice through the phone extracted Petelina from her reverie.

Elena glanced at her drawing. The cleaver was distinctly visible among the delicate penciled lines, while the gun’s outline was only vaguely discernible. Elena circled both items, then crossed them out angrily and threw the crumpled paper into the trashcan.

God only knew what was going on. The suspect had confessed and in so doing, all the witness statements, as well as the gathered evidence, had been provided with their logical conclusion. What else did a detective need to consider this case closed? But of course Inna Maltseva had confessed to an entirely different crime: A woman had been killed, instead of a man! The murder took place on a street in Aprelevka, instead of in an apartment in Moscow! The murder weapon was a handgun, instead of a cleaver!

After such unexpected testimony, Petelina was compelled to undertake certain investigative measures to corroborate or repudiate the murder confession. She had already received a part of the necessary data. It had forced her to think very hard. At the moment, Elena was waiting for the final and most important piece of the puzzle.

«It’s hard to find a black cat in a dark room. Especially, if it’s not in the room to begin with,» Valeyev joked.

Elena could hear him smile.

«What are you talking about, Marat?»

«About the not so simple assignment you gave me.»

«Success?» Elena perked up recalling the missing coat. A forensic analysis of micro-fine particles on the clothes could throw this convoluted case wide open. What could be there? Traces of gunpowder? Drops of Anton Maltsev’s blood? Both?

«Success.»

«Well, bring it to the lab ASAP!»

«What? The janitor?»

«What does the janitor have to do with it? I’m talking about Maltseva’s coat.»

«We only found the janitor. The coat… There is no coat.»

«Marat, are you messing with me? I’ve been sick of your dumb jokes since we were in school.»

«I’m sorry Lena, I really was talking about the janitor.»

«Oh god.»

«We didn’t discover the coat in question,» the operative confessed and instantly began looking for an excuse. «There probably never was one to begin with!»

«Why are you so certain?»

«We asked the janitor. Who else could have taken the coat out of the trash? It was either him or the bums. But, the janitor doesn’t work in the evening. And the bums make their rounds during the day, when it’s light out. However, Mrs. Maltseva claims that she threw the coat away when it had just gotten dark. If that were the case, we would have found the coat that same evening. Think about it yourself, Lena, who’s going to go digging around in the trash? Only field ops. And even then, just the ones that have the dreaded Noose for a supervisor.»

The detective ignored this little jibe. If the case required it, she’d send them to the bottom of the ocean. In fact, that too had happened before. And not just once. Our dear criminal friends often like to toss material evidence into deep waters, hoping that that’ll be that. Luckily, Misha Ustinov has a lovely device that can render the ocean floor in stark detail.

Elena’s hand twirled the pencil over a summary of yesterday’s incidents in Aprelevka. The section dealing with murders and severe bodily injuries was heavily underlined.

«So there is no coat,» concluded Elena.

«Nor gloves, nor glasses,» the captain joined in enthusiastically. «We went through the janitor’s trove. He’s a collector of every half-decent thing that gets thrown out. I even picked out a children’s coat and some tiny overalls for myself.»

«Why? What do you need them for?»

«Well…» Marat hesitated.

Elena recalled why he had been thrown out of the city’s organized crime division. Operative Nikita Dobrokhotov had perished as a consequence of Valeyev’s actions. Internal Affairs had spent three months investigating Marat. It was only due to a general’s intercession that Valeyev managed to remain in the service at all. That was how he ended up in Petelina’s district.

«Nikita Dobrokhotov has a kid,» Elena guessed.

«Two.»

«How old?»

«The girl’s starting fourth grade. The boy’s going to be five soon. The overalls are for him. They’re very nice actually.»

«Eh, Marat, why didn’t you tell me earlier? I have so many of Nastya’s old clothes from when she was younger.»

«Look Lena, this is kind of a personal matter. Don’t tell anyone, okay..?»

«What nonsense! I don’t want to hear another word. „A personal matter!“ I’ll get the clothes ready for you and you’ll come by to pick them up. As for the ones you got from the janitor, take them to the dry cleaners first.»

«That’s a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that.»

«Well, therein lies the difference between women and men.»

«There are other difference too,» the captain humbly submitted.

«Let’s stick to work, Captain Valeyev.» Elena reached for a printout from the State Traffic Inspectorate database and circled a license plate number with her pencil. «You didn’t find the coat, but I found the car.»

«What car?» asked the operative surprised.

«The Volvo. A red one, as luck would have it.»

«You’re getting a new car?»

«It belongs to a woman who was born a brunette but prefers to be a blonde.»

«Lena, I’m not following.»

Misha Ustinov came flying into the detective’s office. Petelina put the phone down and switched her attention to the expert. Her eyes burned with anticipation.

«Well?»

«I’ve figure it out, Detective Petelina, all of it! I’ve already made the call. You know what they told me?»

Petelina greedily listened to his brief report. Her worst fears had been confirmed. She snatched up the phone and yelled, «Valeyev, get over here this instant!»