The Gentle Axe Paperback by R. N. Morris Read Free Book Online Page A

shoulders.”
    Ptitsyn looked momentarily bewildered, then lowered himself to a crouch so that Salytov could straddle his shoulders.
    “Up!”
    Ptitsyn rose shakily, crying out under the strain. As Salytov reached up to grab the slip of paper, Ptitsyn’s center of gravity was thrown. It seemed for a moment as though they would fall. But by a heroic readjustment of his stance, Ptitsyn was able to right himself. Making no allowances, Salytov cursed and kicked the man beneath him with his heels as if he were spurring a horse. “Get closer to the tree, damn you!”
    Ptitsyn bellowed his response and lurched a step higher up the incline. Salytov was able to grasp his prize.
    “Down!”
    Ptitsyn sank groaning to his knees, losing his cap and receiving in return a face full of snow as Salytov dismounted over his head. “What have you found, sir?” he asked, when he had retrieved his cap and staggered back to his feet.
    Salytov examined the paper with an expression of angry triumph. “Ha! This will show him!”
    “Is it a clue, sir?”
    Salytov folded his wallet over the slip of paper and scanned the ground eagerly. He noticed a mound of snow of suspiciously regular shape some way from the tree.
    “There,” Salytov pointed.
    “Could he have jumped from that, sir? Is that what you’re thinking?” asked Ptitsyn.
    “What?” snapped Salytov.
    “I only mean, sir—”
    “I don’t give a damn what you mean, you imbecile. I commanded you to investigate that mound in the snow. Are you refusing to obey my order?”
    “No, sir. Of course not, sir,” said Ptitsyn, stung by Salytov’s severity. But he was determined to prove himself worthy of the stern officer’s approval. He did not waste time wondering how the word there could be interpreted as a formal command. He lunged in the direction Salytov was still pointing.
    Ptitsyn crouched by the mound, which seemed to have a precisely rectangular outline beneath the soft, rounded surface of the snow. He scooped away a few handfuls of the freshest fall from one side, revealing patches of brown in a sheer, smooth surface. “I think it’s some kind of suitcase,” he said, as he continued to excavate. “It appears to be open. There’s—” Ptitsyn broke off. His gloved fingers groped into the snow and lifted what turned out to be an envelope, lilac in color. So delighted was he with this haul as he handed it to the lieutenant that he failed to notice what it had uncovered. But as Ptitsyn looked keenly into the lieutenant’s face, he noticed that it had suddenly become unusually pale, as if the heat of his temper had been siphoned from him. There was no ferocity there. Following Salytov’s eye line toward the spot he was staring at, Ptitsyn gasped to see the features of a man in the snow. “Did you ever see anything like this, sir?” he whispered, his eyes wide open in shocked wonder.
    When Salytov answered, his voice was soft and awed. “Go back to Shestaya Street. Take a drozhki. Tell them what we have found.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I will stay here to secure the scene. You will return with more men. We will need a wagon.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Go then!” Salytov clapped his hands once to send the young policeman running. He watched Ptitsyn’s swaying back recede as he took out his wallet once more and placed the lilac envelope inside.

The Prokuror
     
    T HREE TRESTLE TABLES had been set up in the large shed that the Haymarket District Police Bureau used to store firefighting engines. The building was next to the department’s stables in Malaya Meshchanskaya Street, around the corner from the bureau in Stolyarny Lane. The wide double doors were fastened open, allowing the day’s brutal light to flood the tables and their contents. On the first table were spread the various items that Salytov had recovered from Petrovsky Park. The other two held the bodies.
    The bulking shapes of the fire equipment—the pumping engines, coiled hoses, and water-carrying