Page 53 of Last Violent Call
He found the next phantom bit of paint right outside the washroom, where the linoleum met the navy-blue carpet. It would have been rather impossible to see the mark if he hadn’t been looking closely. The dark color swallowed it right up.
He scoured the nearby carpet, looking and looking and looking….
A cacophony of noise burst behind him, the carriage doors opening to bring Marshall, Vodin, and Mrs. Kuzmina. Marshall and Vodin were going back and forth rather forcefully about what more could be found in the investigation. The provodnitsa, meanwhile, was carrying a bucket of water and a cloth, likely heading for the washroom with the intention of cleaning up the mirror after Marshall had reported thescene.
“Hey,” Benedikt called out.
Mrs. Kuzmina paused in front of the washroom. Marshall and Vodin, too, stopped mid-debate to glance over. In that one word, they had picked up Benedikt’s concern—or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Marshall had picked up Benedikt’s slight concern, and Vodin was only following the more visceral cues that Marshall was giving off.
Benedikt pointed to the door right beside the washroom. “Who occupies this room?”
“That room?” The provodnitsa set down her bucket. “Nobody. It is empty.”
That was unexpected. And it didn’t make any sense. Because if it was empty, why was there a third smear of the faintest paint smudge right outside the doorway, as if someone had made two long strides out of the washroom before disappearing right next door?
“Recently?” Benedikt pressed. Hearing his urgency, Marshall hurried over too. “Did someone move rooms?”
Mrs. Kuzmina reached into her pocket, pulling out her master key. “No, no. For this journey, there was no ticket holder for this room. See?” She put the key in, turning the lock and pushing on the handle. “Empty.”
The door swung open. She flicked on the overhead light.
And though there were no sheets on the bed nor any clothes hanging on the wardrobe hangers, therewasa single can of red paint sitting on the table with a wet brush lying beside it.
The train bounced. For a moment, no one said anything. Then, very seriously, Marshall demanded: “Is there any chance that we have a stowaway?”
The provodnitsa’s mouth opened and closed. Disbelief turned her movements slow. “I don’t know. I cannot imagine how.”
This investigation was only getting stranger and stranger. Mutteringa curse, Benedikt strode into the room, making a quick inventory of its contents. The compartment looked near identical to the others in the carriage. The curtains were drawn back. The one drawer beneath the wardrobe was ever so slightly ajar.
Out of instinct, Benedikt nudged it open with his foot. He didn’t say anything. He let Vodin come into the room and start ranting about keeping track of where the keys were, the officer’s pointer finger stabbing into his other palm forcefully as he instructed the provodnitsa on altering the lock on the door. When Marshall’s gaze settled in his direction, Benedikt locked eyes meaningfully, then inclined his head at the drawer.
As naturally as he could, Marshall took a step toward the drawer, peering inside. Benedikt caught the exact moment Marshall saw it too: the smallest smattering of powder at the lower left corner. Anyone else might have mistaken it for dust. But Benedikt and Marshall hadn’t grown up in one of Shanghai’s most infamous gangs to make the same error.
Someone had been storing illicit drugs here.
Benedikt tossed the blanket forward, letting it flop onto Marshall’s head. There were still a few stragglers who remained in the dining carriage, finishing their soup or taking their tea, so he switched to Chinese to avoid being understood.
“Dearest treasure of mine, we are supposed to be stayingawake.”
Marshall only groaned in response, letting the blanket stay over his head as he leaned up against the window and rested on the glass. Their investigation felt like it had been rewound and reset. Vodin had given them another twenty-four hours, seeing thatsomethingseemed to have pressed on the killer’s nerve, though heavens knew what. They needed to get the officer a viable hypothesis soon so that he would allow the train to keep riding for the investigation. If they flounderedtoo evidently, Vodin would bring in the police by tomorrow’s nightfall.
Lev had gone to sleep. Marshall and Benedikt had assured him that the investigation wouldn’t resume until tomorrow morning. In reality, they just needed as few people as possible knowing what they were about to get up to.
“The sweet endearment offers only the most infinitesimal reprieve to my poor eyes, which are dragging closed and heavier than stone, heavier than the heaviest substance known to mankind—”
Benedikt yanked the blanket off. He should have known better than to have tossed it forward to begin with, because of course Marshall would use it as a prop in his melodrama. He needed to take a different approach.
“You know”—Benedikt faked a sigh, folding the blanket carefully—“if you’re tired, I can do this stakeout alone. It cannot be that hard to watch for movement throughout the night, and I can fend for myself if anything goes wrong….”
Marshall’s eyes flew open, his spine straightening. “I am not tired. Who told you that? Malicious slander and lies.”
Immediately, Benedikt switched his countenance, thwacking a hand onto Marshall’s shoulder. “All right, then. Look lively.”
The last passenger didn’t leave the dining carriage until well past midnight. Half an hour later, the last attendant finished wiping down the tables and also took his leave.
Benedikt turned his newspaper page, barely taking in the words. Marshall, meanwhile, leaned on Benedikt’s arm with a thump. The stakeout had to be tonight; by tomorrow, news would surely start to travel about the empty room and the paint bucket, tipping the killer off about the discovery. Before the killer realized that Marshall and Benedikt were onto the empty room, the two investigators were watching for movement in and out—either to confirm a stowaway or to eliminatethe possibility and figure out if someone on board had merely gotten access. Besides, if therewerea stowaway, surely they could not hide for more than a few hours at a time, especially if they didn’t know that Benedikt and Marshall hovered nearby in anticipation.
In about ten minutes they would turn off the lights, then prop open the door into the nearest carriage and wait in the dark. If the killer decided to visit that room again, they would see.
