The Bloody Meadow Read online

  ‘I had nothing to do with her death, and if I knew anything about it I would tell you.’

  Korolev considered the man, conscious that at the same time the journalist was considering him in return. He wasn’t bad-looking, this Lomatkin; his clothes were of a good standard and his hair well cut. He looked like what he was, someone who’d been successful under Stalin and whose loyalty had been rewarded. But there’d be people who wanted his position no doubt, or envied his success, and where there was envy, these days, there were denunciations. Yes, to be in the public eye in 1937 was not something for the faint-hearted – and now poor Lomatkin had arrived in the Ukraine to find his lover dead and a Militia detective poking around in his private life. Yet the man seemed to be regaining his confidence. Had Korolev missed something?

  ‘Why are you here, Citizen Lomatkin? Was it to visit Citizen Lenskaya? Or is it just a coincidence?’ Korolev gave him his hardest, most quizzical stare.

  ‘I had some business down here. I’ve been sent to interview the Frenchman, Les Pins, for Izvestia. Then I’ve some pieces to write about our western defences, and after that I’m off to Sebastopol. A busy week.’ He hesitated, a thought seeming to occur to him. ‘I’ll admit it was my suggestion that I interview Les Pins, but not from an individualist perspective – he’s a renowned fighter for Socialism. I’d never put my personal interest before the Party. Once I discovered he was here with Savchenko, it seemed a good opportunity to come and see him. It was a coincidence that Citizen Lenskaya was here as well.’

  ‘Citizen Lenskaya?’ Korolev asked, putting an intonation into the question that was intended to remind the journalist that he’d effectively been engaged to the dead girl.

  ‘Masha,’ Lomatkin said, as though feeling his way round the name.

  ‘Masha?’ Korolev repeated and Lomatkin had the good grace to look embarrassed. ‘Poor dead Masha. And just a coincidence, you say. Do you know I’m all worn out with the number of coincidences that are coming to light today. An astrologer wouldn’t believe half of what I’ve heard.’

  ‘I know nothing about that.’

  ‘We’ll see. You said there were complications with Masha that restricted your relationship. What complications were these?’

  ‘Comrade Korolev, you ask me about complications and you talk to me about coincidences.’ Lomatkin appeared annoyed for a moment before the annoyance was replaced with a hint of a bitter smile – the kind of smile that would disappear like smoke if you tried to get a hold of it. ‘Why, if you don’t mind me asking for a change, are you here, Comrade Captain? Is it just a coincidence that you arrived the day after her death? A coincidence that Major Mushkin was at the airport to pick you up? I think you might know about the complications we faced. It doesn’t mean we can discuss them freely.’

  So the fellow did know about Ezhov. Well, if the cat was out of the bag then it could be chased.

  ‘We’ll come to those complications in a moment, Citizen Lomatkin,’ Korolev said. ‘But speaking of coincidences, were you aware that the caretaker of this establishment was your lover’s father? I think you know him – Andreychuk. Although that’s not his original name – being an Enemy of the People, he decided to change it.’

  Now the fellow’s cage was really rattled, thought Korolev. It was one thing having a lover murdered, it was natural that he’d be interviewed, but he had an alibi that was almost indestructible – he’d been a thousand kilometres away in Moscow, after all. But his lover being the daughter of an Enemy of the People. There was no alibi for that.

  ‘Andreychuk? Masha’s father?’

  ‘Yes. He fought with Petlyura, and when those rats were rounded up he changed his name and moved to Kiev and your Masha was sent to live with her aunt in Moscow.’

  ‘I knew nothing of this. Masha was a loyal Party member, she’d have given her life for the Party.’

  ‘Perhaps she did.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ Lomatkin whispered.

  ‘Perhaps you had her killed to prevent the story coming out.’

  ‘This is ridiculous, there were much more important men than me who knew nothing of this, as you well know.’

  ‘What do you know about morphine, Citizen?’

  ‘Morphine? It’s an anaesthetic,’ Lomatkin said, a little too quickly perhaps.

  ‘And, of course, a poison if taken in sufficient quantity.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So your lover consumed a large quantity prior to being strangled. Would you like to explain that to me?’

  ‘Explain what to you? I was in Moscow. How would I know how she ended up taking morphine?’

  ‘It’s also a narcotic – perhaps it was self-administered. Perhaps you supplied it to her.’

  ‘I was in Moscow, Captain, as I keep telling you. That’s all there is to it. You saw me get on the damned plane there, didn’t you?’

  ‘Have you ever taken morphine?’

  ‘No. I’ve never taken morphine. And please stop these questions. Andreychuk is the one with the motive here. I had none. I was devoted to Masha.’

  ‘Were you jealous of the relationship Comrade Lenskaya had with the People’s Commissar?’

  Lomatkin seemed surprised that Ezhov had been mentioned, but he recovered quickly. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘Comrade Ezhov treated her well, assisted her in her career. If you want the truth, she considered it her duty to the Party to comfort the People’s Commissar in any way she could. Believe me, that’s the truth. The plain truth.’

  Korolev raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t much about a girl’s duty to comfort older Party members in Lenin or Marx. But what did he know? ‘Were others aware of her relationship with Comrade Ezhov?’

  ‘Of course. I’d say half Moscow knew of it. By that I mean within senior Party circles, obviously, and the circles in which she moved. Actors, artists, writers, those kind of people. And she wasn’t the only one.’

  ‘Who were the others?’

  ‘A ballerina, a couple of actresses you might have heard of – Sorokina for a start. Although that ended a while back.’

  ‘Comrade Sorokina was Ezhov’s – ’ he paused, wondering how to put it – ‘friend?’

  Korolev sighed and made a note to himself to haul the beautiful Barikada back in for another grilling, although this time, he thought to himself wryly, it might be better done by Slivka.

  ‘For a year or so, I think. Before he – ’ now Lomatkin hesitated – ‘achieved his current position.’

  It occurred to Korolev that much of a Soviet citizen’s conversation these days involved the unsaid, the oblique and euphemistic. Some intellectual would no doubt make a study, in due course, of the ability of Soviet citizens to communicate without saying quite what they meant. And probably what they whispered to each other under the covers late at night as well.

  ‘What I’m looking for here is a motive,’ Korolev said, returning his attention to the matter in hand. ‘And one motive might be your jealousy.’

  Lomatkin opened his mouth to protest, but Korolev held up his hand.

  ‘Don’t bother. You’re a clever man, a journalist. You know that, despite all you say about free love and respecting Lenskaya’s rights as a woman, jealousy is still a good motive. I can tell you we’d have a lot less killings in Moscow if jealousy was eradicated in the next Five Year Plan.’

  Lomatkin looked glum.

  ‘And all this was general knowledge?’ Korolev continued. ‘I mean, who knew these things about Citizen Lenskaya, and Sorokina for that matter?’

  ‘It was well known.’

  ‘What did she tell you about her relationship with the People’s Commissar? Did she mention any problems? Not with the Commissar himself, of course, but perhaps other men, other women?’

  Lomatkin laughed, a laugh as dry as desert sand.

  ‘There were no problems. The people who knew about the relationship knew other things as well, such as the regard Comrade Stalin has for Ezhov, and the faith he places in his abilities.
It changed people’s attitudes to her, of course. But it didn’t cause her any problems. To the contrary.’

  It was strange, the man had indeed seemed to relax in the course of the interview.

  ‘When are you visiting these western defences?’ he asked, and saw Lomatkin shift his weight in his chair.

  ‘The day after tomorrow? Tomorrow afternoon I’m meeting a photographer in Odessa. He’s arriving by train.’

  ‘How far from here?’ Korolev asked, wondering what it was that was making him suspicious of the journalist. It was nothing he could put his finger on. And yet . . .

  ‘Odessa?’ Lomatkin said.

  ‘Not Odessa,’ Korolev said, wondering whether the journalist had relaxed so far as to be making fun of him now. ‘The defences.’

  ‘We’re visiting Krasnogorka. The defences extend all along the Dnester – but Krasnogorka is where we’re visiting. Forty kilometres from here, as the crow flies.’

  The River Dnester marked the division between the Soviet Union and Romania. Korolev hadn’t known they were so close, but he’d heard of the Stalin Line that defended the south-western border and seen photographs of sunburnt men, their eyes squinting over the sights of heavy machine guns in concrete pillboxes, and been reminded of the German fortifications they’d stormed back in ’sixteen, and the thousands of Russian bodies lying unclaimed on the barbed wire for weeks afterwards. The Germans had known a thing or two about building defences. He hoped Marshal Tukachevsky’s military engineers knew as much.

  ‘Can I go now?’ Lomatkin said. ‘I have to call Moscow.’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll want to talk to you again. When do you plan to leave?’

  Again, that slight shift – was it a sign of nervousness, or something else? Once again, Korolev had a feeling he’d missed something.

  ‘As soon as we’re finished with the defences.’

  Korolev shook his head. There was more to be discovered from the man, and he’d find out what it was. ‘I’m sorry, Citizen Lomatkin, that won’t be possible. I require you to remain here until I’m sure you have assisted us as much as possible with the enquiry. You can’t leave here until then.’

  Lomatkin opened his mouth to protest.

  ‘My authority is absolute in this matter,’ Korolev continued. ‘Don’t doubt me on this.’

  Lomatkin considered the statement for a moment, then got to his feet.

  ‘I want to assist you in any way I can, Captain. Masha didn’t deserve to die this way, and you have to believe me – I’d never have wanted such a thing to happen to her.’

  Which was odd, Korolev thought to himself, as that wasn’t the same as saying he’d nothing to do with her death.

  Chapter Fourteen

  AFTER LOMATKIN had left, Korolev sat behind the teacher’s desk, going through his notes. There were plenty of things to follow up, certainly, but his thoughts kept coming back to his conversation with Kolya earlier in the day, and each time they did he felt his stomach turn. If this had something to do with counterrevolutionaries, then everything else might as well be smoke. These lines of enquiry looked like they might amount to something, yes, but perhaps all they were doing was obscuring the real motive for the murder – which was this damned conspiracy of Kolya’s. Korolev considered passing Kolya’s revelations on to Rodinov for the tenth time, and for the tenth time decided not to. There was no point in putting his head into the lion’s mouth, after all, even if he sensed it might be there already.

  In the end he was relieved to be distracted by a single sharp knock on the door, and looked up to see it being pushed open. The elderly lady with the military bearing from the previous day entered, regarded him for a moment, then stepped forward.

  ‘They said you were here. Korolev, isn’t it?’ Her walking stick thumped across the wooden floorboards towards him.

  ‘Yes,’ Korolev said, rising to his feet and half-wondering if he should salute her. ‘We met yesterday, Comrade Mushkina.’

  ‘Don’t stand. No need for that, we’re all comrades here. Now listen, Korolev, I’ve a favour to ask of you.’

  Korolev settled uncomfortably back into his seat, while Mushkina stayed standing, leaning sideways onto her stick.

  ‘I’ve responsibility for the Agricultural College here, you see, and you’ve arrested Andreychuk, the caretaker. You can’t seriously believe the man to be a murderer, can you? He’s harmless.’

  Korolev didn’t like to say that murderers often seemed harmless, and that anyone who’d fought through the Civil War knew all about killing and would be lucky not to have blood on their hands – particularly if they’d fought in the Ukraine.

  ‘At this moment,’ he said, after a short pause, ‘I remain to be convinced that Citizen Andreychuk killed the girl. I’d like to talk to him again, however, and find out what else he might have to tell me, but that isn’t the reason he’s being held.’

  ‘Why, then? And is there a good reason you can’t let him work while you continue your enquiries? Nearly all the rest of the staff are off with the students and these film people need looking after.’

  ‘It’s a matter for your son, Comrade. It turns out that Citizen Andreychuk was an officer in the Petlyurist army and has concealed his real identity for many years. So it seems to me that he’ll have to answer for that to State Security, if nothing else. It’s out of my hands.’

  ‘A Petlyurist, you say?’ She spoke quietly, not showing any of the normal indications of surprise.

  ‘According to his testimony.’ Korolev flicked through his notebook before coming to the correct page. ‘His real name is Timoshenko. He comes from Angelinivka, it’s about thirty-five kilometres from here. Near Krasnogorka.’

  ‘I know the place.’

  ‘I’m sorry to tell you that he’s confessed to having fought against the Revolution during the Civil War, possessing false papers and assuming a false identity. All of which are, of course, crimes. And it turns out he was the dead girl’s father as well.’

  ‘Her father?’ Mushkina repeated, surprise finally revealing itself. If she’d known about, or suspected, his assumed identity, she clearly knew nothing about this.

  ‘Yes,’ Korolev said, closing his notebook.

  ‘Her father?’ She pronounced the last word with something approaching indignation. ‘Now that’s a surprise to me. His identity’s one thing, but that he managed to conceal his relationship to the girl, well, that puts a different perspective on things. And you don’t think he had anything to do with her murder? It happens – even in the closest families.’

  That was true, the large majority of murders were committed by family members or close associates of the deceased.

  ‘Our investigation is not concluded.’

  ‘And you intend to charge him?’

  ‘For the false papers? My authority only extends to this specific investigation; what to do about the other matters will be a decision for Major Mushkin.’

  ‘I see. I’ll talk to him. But you wouldn’t have any objection if he’s released into my care. I’ll take full responsibility, of course.’

  ‘If the major is happy, then I am, Comrade Mushkina.’

  She nodded, giving him a small smile that seemed intended to represent gratitude, but her face was clearly unused to such a manoeuvre and the smile seemed more of an expression of pain than civility.

  ‘Very good. Thank you, Captain.’

  She turned to leave, then paused. ‘You said he was honest in his response to your enquiries. What does that mean?’

  ‘It means what I said, Comrade Mushkina.’

  ‘Does it mean you have an idea who killed the girl?’

  ‘We’re still at an early stage of the investigation.’

  ‘And you would like to talk to me as part of that investigation, I presume.’

  ‘Yes, I would.’

  Mushkina turned back and sat down in the seat that Lomatkin had so recently vacated.

  ‘Then we should talk immediately,’ she said.

&n
bsp; Korolev hadn’t prepared for this interview, but he opened a clean page in his notebook.

  ‘Let me start at the beginning,’ he said. ‘When did Andreychuk come to work for the College?’

  ‘In ’thirty-three.’

  ‘So you were already here then?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I took up the post at the end of ’thirty-one. My health was failing and I was no longer able to take such an active role in the Party. But I wished still to be of use and so I came here.’

  She made a graceful gesture with her hand to encompass the room.

  ‘That must have been at the height of the push for collectivization in these parts?’

  Korolev wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for with his question, but an angry blush appeared on her cheeks and, when she answered, her irritation was clear.

  ‘I’m not sure what you’re suggesting, Captain Korolev.’

  ‘I was thinking it must have been hard coming out into the countryside at that time. I didn’t mean to offend you, I apologize.’

  She seemed to relax.

  ‘It was hard everywhere. We built this place from nothing, but there was no shortage of citizens who wanted to work for us. The College was a key part of the drive towards collective agriculture in this region and so we were allocated rations for our workers.’

  ‘They must have been grateful.’

  ‘They were, but we had to turn away a hundred for every one we took.’ She paused and began to tap the table with one finger, as if considering a problem. ‘I must appear to have been annoyed just then. I apologize. Some of my Party colleagues thought I shirked my duty by taking this role – but this was the real front line. Here is where the battle for collectivization was fought and won. There’s a difference between plans and implementation, Comrade Korolev. And here we transformed theory into reality.’

  ‘I’d never suspect a woman like you of shirking her duty, Comrade.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And was that when Citizen Andreychuk arrived, during the construction of the College?’

  ‘That’s correct. His paperwork seemed in order.’