Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5)(44)
Vodin, on the other hand, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know my nephew, do you?”
A squeak sounded through the crowd. Benedikt cast a glance over and spotted Lev trying to push through.
“Since he was away at the time of this crime as well,” Marshall continued, gesturing at the body on the floor, “he might be a great help as a journalist. Think about your alternative: When you stop for the police, what will happen?” He put his hands behind his back and did a slow circle on his heel, as if he was really musing on the situation. Benedikt felt like he was watching a whole production at work. “The doors open, passengers get off, and a killer flees into the world forever. Mr. Popov seemed like an important man. Won’t you be the one punished for that when every lead dries up? I imagine you have people to report to—people who will want answers for a death that occurred on board.”
The captivated audience mumbled and murmured, shifting on their feet in concern. The attendant at the doorway tried to dismiss the passengers from the scene to no avail. If anything, there was further movement, plenty of jostling and complaining, before Lev finally burst through the gaps, charging into the room.
“Uncle, uncle,” Lev Grigoryevich exclaimed, holding a camera in his hands. “You should allow them to investigate.”
“Lev,” the officer chided. “Everybody out. Immediately. Clear this passageway.”
The attendants made a greater effort now at dismissal, and the passengers were shooed off in both directions, some returning to their rooms and others to their abandoned dinners in the dining car. The attendant who had been concerned about not touching the body took Mrs. Kuzmina by the elbow, helping her toward the washroom to rinse off. Eventually it was only Benedikt and Marshall in the passageway, with Marshall casting Benedikt an assured smile and Benedikt scrunching his nose. Lev and his uncle were whispering in front of the closed compartment, not loud enough to pick out what they were saying, but by tone alone, it seemed the boy really wanted the investigation. He gestured to his camera. Waved it around and mimicked taking pictures.
Eventually, Vodin patted his nephew’s shoulder, seeming to come to an agreement about something. He stepped around Lev and approached Benedikt and Marshall with his hand extended.
“Your names, gentlemen?”
“Just Marshall.” Marshall brought his hand out to shake. He tightened his grip to the point that even Benedikt spotted the indents of his knuckles flashing white. “A pleasure to be of service.”
“And you?” Vodin asked, turning to Benedikt.
“Benedikt Ivanovich.” He didn’t offer to shake.
Vodin looked from him to Marshall, withdrawing his hand. “Is this an order of the profession? Surely you both have family names.”
Marshall’s expression flashed into panic for a brief moment. Before he decided to come up with a lie, Benedikt took the attention smoothly, answering: “Sokov. I am Benedikt Ivanovich Sokov. Perfectly normal, no?”
“Thank you, Mr. Sokov.” Vodin inclined his head. He turned over his shoulder again, and when Lev grinned from where he remained, the officer sighed deeply. “While half of our travelers are heading directly for Vladivostok, you must understand that many other passengers bought tickets with destinations along the route. They will not be pleased with this turn in events. We are essentially holding them hostage.”
“But you cannot risk the killer departing,” Benedikt said firmly, finally playing along with Marshall’s plan. It looked like it might actually be working. “This is the best way to ensure justice. Have the train proceed nonstop to its final destination. We will have a culprit for you by our arrival in Vladivostok.”
For a long moment, Vodin regarded them, his mustache taking up half his face and his stare overwhelming the other half.
“My nephew has convinced me that this is the best course of action, so I have decided to trust him,” he finally said. “However, I would like an update in twenty-four hours. Depending on your progress, I will decide then whether it is a good idea to continue nonstop or halt the train and call in the police.”
“Maybe we will even have the culprit found in twenty-four hours!” Marshall declared.
Vodin didn’t look convinced. He looked over his shoulder again, nodding to Lev, and while his gaze was turned away, Benedikt smacked Marshall in a quick motion, his arm colliding with a hard stomach. Tone it down, he was saying.
“While you investigate,” Vodin continued, “Lev will accompany you and take some remarks. He will report back to me to save you the time, but you may find me directly if there is anything you need. Can I leave you to survey the crime scene?”
Marshall nodded.
With a shake of his head, as if he couldn’t believe he was allowing this, Vodin went to open the door, speaking to Lev again.
“Did you… use my name?” Marshall, meanwhile, leaned over to whisper to Benedikt.
“You do not like it?”
Marshall grinned. “I like it very much, Mr. Sokov.”
The compartment opened again. Vodin took his leave without further dillydallying, clapping his nephew’s arm in farewell before using that same hand to carefully push through into the next carriage.
“All right,” Benedikt said, rolling his sleeves up. “How hard can this be? Watch where you are stepping.”
“Are you talking to me or the kid?” Marshall asked, following Benedikt in.