Nastya saw that he did not want to get into detail. All right, she could find out what she needed without him. But it was strange that he didnt want to share with her. As far as she knew Solovyov, he had always enjoyed whining and complaining, telling how miserable he was in great detail and how he had been hurt. He had always needed sympathy. Of course, that was twelve years ago. He was different now. As was she.
What did you tell your husband when you came here? Solovyov abruptly changed the subject.
Some lie. It doesnt matter. He knows that Im busy for days at a time with work and he docs not try to control my time.
You mean hes not the jealous type?
Absolutely not, Nastya lied without blinking an eye.
Poor Lyoshka! He was going crazy with jealousy, despite all her assurances and explanations. She was being forced to make him suffer so that she could solve the mystery of the missing teenagers. Was the answer worth his pain? Was there anything at all in the world worth hurting the person she loved most? Of course, Lyoshka would never say another word to her about it, and he would be angry and upset in silence. But did that make it any easier?
Nastya spent almost two hours with Solovyov. They talked, dined, reminisced about old friends, studiously avoiding topics that touched on their old relationship and possible relations today. Nastya noticed the assistants wary looks, but tried to pay no attention. They parted amicably.
She got home late and rushed to call her mother.
Mama, do you remember your graduate student Volodya Solovyov?
Nadezhdas voice grew cold and tense. She knew all about their affair.
I remember. But not as well as you do, she replied coolly.
All right, all right, mother, Nastya said with a laugh. Its not my fault that I have such a good memory, I dont forget anything.
In what connection has he come up? her mother persisted.
I ran into him in connection with work. It turns out his wife recently died and he is an invalid now, unable to walk. Have you heard anything about it?
No.
Could you find out? Hes in your field, a linguist. Surely one of your colleagues must know the story.
Why dont you ask him yourself?
I tried, but hes avoiding an answer. I dont want to push him. Come on, Mother.
All right, Nadezhda said. Ill try to find out. Has he been up to something?
No, not at all! What could Solovyov be up to? Before taking a step, he thinks for a century or so, and then doesnt do anything. Its just that I need the details so that I act accordingly. Otherwise I might say something that will upset him, and we wont make contact.
Strange that you need additional terms for contact with him, her mother noted dryly. It seems to me you used to have excellent contact.
Mama!
All right, all right, dont be mad. Ill do what I can. Does Alexei know?
Of course.
God, what a child I brought into this world! Her mother sighed. You never had any tact. Why are you tormenting him?
Im working, Mother. Im not enjoying myself with a former lover, Nastya said wearily.
She loved her mother. But in recent years, Nadezhda had stopped understanding her completely. Especially after the several years abroad. Nastya felt much more comfortable with her stepfather, who had been on the force all his life and understood her problems right off the bat.
* * *Her mother called her at work late the next evening, just as Nastya was getting ready to leave.
Do you know, its a horrible story, Nadezhda announced in agitation. It turns out, Volodyas wife went to a resort and vanished. They searched for almost a month and then found her body in the woods. Some creep wanted her camera. To be killed over some stupid camera! I cant accept that.
Where did it happen?
I dont know, somewhere in Central Russia. On the Volga, thats for sure.
What happened to his legs?
Thats not clear. No one knows whats ailing him. He hasnt told anyone. One man said that Volodya had been beaten viciously.
Whos the man?
You dont know him.
That means Ill get to know him, Nastya insisted. Who is he?
Malyshev. Artur Malyshev. Hes a docent at the Institute of Foreign Languages. Arc you going to get in touch with him? Absolutely.
Why?
Because. It has to be done, Mother. If he was beaten, I want to know why the police have no record of it. And if he wasnt, I need to know why your Malyshev thinks he was. What difference does it make why he thinks so if its not true?
A big difference, Nastya explained patiently. Even the wildest rumor starts somewhere. Someone made it up for some reason and told it to someone else. Even if there is no truth in it, somebodys idea was behind it. And if there is some truth, then it is always necessary to find out just what truth it is. Well I hope that there wont be any problems for Malyshev if it turns out that the mugging was just a lie, her mother asked in concern.
Relax, nothing will happen to him, to your precious Malyshev. Unless of course, he made it up himself. Are you going to give me his phone number or do I have to find it?
Nadezhda sighed and dictated the address and telephone number. After she hung up, Nastya began getting ready to leave and was putting on her jacket when Yura Korotkov rushed into her office.
Nastya, I think weve got a lead! he burst out. Oh, man, Im exhausted, Ive been running around all day. Make some coffee, be a pal.
He plopped down on a chair and stretched out his legs blissfully. Nastya hung her jacket back in the closet and turned on the teapot. That meant her trip home was put off by at least an hour.
Let me tell you, Korotkov began triumphantly. A week ago someone wiped out a video kiosk. Lots of fingerprints, but no match. The thief is new to us. The kiosk owner went through the inventory and said that what was stolen came from various sections. The tapes were selected. He made a list of the stolen tapes, but the principle of selection is not clear. Not all mysteries, or thrillers, or adventure, or science fiction, or erotica. A little bit of everything. Fourteen in all. And there was a clever cop on the team who said that naturally there wasnt enough time to watch all fourteen films to find out what they had in common, but it was possible to look through the opening credits. They found a smart computer that can print stills from video, they looked and found that there was one actor in all the films. Not a star, of course, a bit player, unknown, and hes on screen only five or seven minutes in each film. But his looks! Youre kidding, Nastya said softly. Docs he really look like them?
Peas in a pod, Korotkov said, sipping the steaming coffee. I compared it to the photographs of the dead boys. He and Oleg Butenko have the same face.
Oleg Butenko was the first of the missing boys. September 1995. Found dead in December. That meant it was a homosexual maniac. Nothing worse than a serial killer. Catching serial killers is hard, relentless work. Theres usually nothing to connect the maniac with the victims, often they did not know each other and there was no personal motive. How do you catch them? How do you prove it, if he doesnt confess?
Of course, there were a few things in this case. First of all, the prints that the perpetrator left at the scene of the videotape theft. Second, he had to have a place where he kept the wretched boys until they died. And third, the thin, wavering track leading to the Daydream Estates.