Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5)(48)

He grinned. “I was wondering when you would notice that.”

“By God”—Benedikt rolled up his sleeves—“I’m going to kill you.”

“Nooooo, we’re trying to catch a murderer, not become one!”

“Too late!”

Benedikt clambered onto the bed, spoon raised. Marshall threw his head back and laughed, yanking his husband down and trying to avoid getting beaten to death by a spoon.





6


“Here is the passenger list for everyone in soft-class. The smaller section at the end is the attendants.”

Vodin put a clipboard down onto the dining table. It was only two pages, listing the twenty or so passengers scattered on these four carriages. There were five attendants and one provodnitsa, making a total of seven service staff including Vodin himself. While Marshall chomped down on his apple—rather aggressively because he was trying to maximize the taste and his senses always got a little dulled while traveling—Benedikt picked up the clipboard and scanned through, making a noise at the back of his throat.

“I don’t suppose you spot any names of already-famous criminals?” Marshall asked, leaning forward. They were seated on the same side of the table they had used for a workstation last night. Their suspects would sit for their interrogation on the other side, one by one.

“That would be rather convenient,” Benedikt said. “Sadly, I do not.”

“Damn. It was worth a try.”

“A valiant effort, Mars.”

Marshall thought so too. He took another bite of the apple, his gaze flickering up to the carriage doors as Lev pushed his way in, scuttling close to the table.

“Are we interviewing people today?” he whispered. “How very Sherlock.”

“Let’s get one thing clear,” Benedikt said, waving for the kid to sit down. “You are observing. Don’t go sticking your neck out. One of these people walking in today will be a killer.”

Lev immediately nodded, looking as serious as a pallbearer. Even Marshall felt his stomach drop a little, swallowing his next bite nervously as Vodin peered out the doors of the dining carriage and waved for the first group of waiting passengers to get ready. This had been the very basis for their investigation. To deny the possibility of an escape, the train had not stopped, so whoever had stabbed a pen through Danila Andreyevich Popov’s throat remained on board. They only needed to point the finger at whom.

“Ready?” Benedikt whispered.

Marshall threw the apple core into the trash can. “Ready.”

The elderly lady who Lev had scared off last night was waved in first. The questions only served to get a better picture of who was where during the time of the crime, which meant plenty of passengers were ushered through and allowed to leave in minutes. Where were you yesterday? Who was with you? Did you know the deceased? Did you see anyone near his room at the time of the crime? Plenty of them could vouch for each other in the dining car, and as soon as they had that, it was incredibly unlikely they had anything to do with the crime.

“Stepan Maximovich Ivanov,” Marshall greeted when the man came through the dining carriage doors. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“If only it were under better circumstances,” Stepan replied, settling heavily into his seat. He had a businesslike demeanor, his hands clasped in front of him as if he were preparing to listen to a proposal rather than attending a questioning.

“You were in your compartment at the time of the crime, yes?” Benedikt asked.

“I was.”

“And your traveling companion?” Marshall asked. He scanned the passenger list. “Can Mr. Portsmith confirm your presence?”

“He was rather deeply asleep. Claimed to have desynchronosis because he had just traveled from London to Moscow.”

Benedikt scoffed. “A mere two hours?”

“He is old. It is fair.”

“Interesting.”

Where Marshall trusted that he could rely on his own head and remember the details that emerged as important, Benedikt was taking notes on every passenger, a few sheets of paper pressed to his leg. He was scribbling quickly now.

“Mr. Ivanov,” Benedikt said, “why didn’t you come out when the provodnitsa screamed? You had been speaking to my partner only a few minutes prior, and you were in the next compartment.”

“Oh, that has an easy answer.” Stepan Maximovich pointed to his ears. “Cotton-wrapped wax earplugs. They gave them out when we fought in the war to muffle gunfire, and I have been using them for sleep ever since.”

It did seem a little convenient. But there was nothing overly suspicious about wearing earplugs to sleep either.

“Did you know the deceased?”

“No.”

“Did you witness anything peculiar regarding the deceased?”

Stepan shook his head. He inclined his head to Marshall. “Nothing save for the muffled argument, which we discussed together. I didn’t catch any of the words exchanged, or else I might be of more use today.”

They dismissed Stepan and summoned in the next passenger: his allocated traveling companion. When Mr. Portsmith came in, he only confirmed the same answers. Or rather, he first used broken Russian to say that he would be utterly useless for questioning because he couldn’t speak the language, hopping out of the seat presumptuously as soon as he sat down.