Page 15 of The Case of the Missing Dancer
BACKSTAGE BETRAYAL
The evidence room at Scotland Yard felt like a sanctuary after the confrontation with Volkov. Robert had assembled a small team of trusted colleagues to witness the opening of Anya's envelope, ensuring proper documentation of whatever secrets it contained.
"Before we begin," Robert said, "I want to brief everyone on what we're dealing with." He pinned several photographs to the evidence board. "Dmitri Volkov, former colonel in the Tsar's secret police. Suspected of six murders since arriving in London, all made to look like accidents. Currently under investigation for insurance fraud, but we believe he's running a much larger operation."
Sergeant Mills, Robert's most experienced investigator, studied the photographs. "What sort of operation, sir?"
"Blackmail and murder targeting Russian émigrés. They use the Orthodox Church on Ennismore Gardens as cover,threatening to expose their victims to Soviet agents unless they pay protection money."
"And Miss Petrova?"
"Anna Volkov—his niece. We believe she has evidence that could bring down the entire network." Robert nodded to me. "Miss Worthington, if you would do the honors."
My hands trembled slightly as I carefully opened the envelope. Inside were several items that made my breath catch: more photographs, what appeared to be financial documents, and a letter written in Anya's elegant script.
I read the letter aloud:
"If you are reading this, then something has happened to prevent me from sailing for America. My Uncle Dmitri has been systematically murdering Russian exiles in London. I have proof—photographs, bank records, correspondence. He believes I fled Russia with nothing but fear, but I have far more than he knows. The proof is hidden where only I can find it, but these copies should be enough to begin an investigation. Please, for the sake of all the innocent people he has killed, do not let him escape justice. —Anna Volkov"
"Financial documents," Sergeant Mills said, examining the papers. "Bank transfers, insurance payouts . . . Good God, look at these amounts."
I peered over his shoulder. The documents showed a clear pattern: insurance claims following suspicious fires, warehouse accidents, and deaths, with money flowing into accounts under various names.
"This is just the beginning," Robert said grimly. "She mentions hiding the original proof somewhere else."
"The photographs," I said, studying the images. They showed Volkov meeting with various men in what appeared to be the Russian Orthodox Church. "These must be his criminal associates."
Robert examined them carefully. "I recognize several of these faces. Men we've suspected but never had evidence against." He paused at one particular photograph. "Wait a moment."
"What is it?"
"This man here, in the background." He pointed to a figure partially obscured by shadow. "I've seen him before, but not in connection with Russian criminals."
I leaned in for a better look. The man in question was younger than the others, well-dressed, with sharply defined features—and unsettlingly familiar.
“I know him,” I said slowly. “That’s Mr. Cooper—the stage manager at the King’s Theatre. He’s already introduced himself to me. He was the one who showed me to Anya’s dressing room.”
Robert’s expression darkened. “Are you certain?”
“Positive. He also interrupted my first meeting with Monsieur LeClair. Said the costume mistress wanted to know about fitting Anya's costumes to the understudy.”
Robert nodded grimly. “It would make sense. Cooper would have access to every corner of the theatre. Rehearsal schedules, costume fittings, dressing rooms. He’d know when Anya was alone. When she planned to leave.”
My stomach tightened. “You think he was feeding information to Volkov?”
“It fits.” Robert gathered the photographs quickly. “We need to get back to the King’s Theatre. Immediately.”
“But how can we be sure? So many people work there—LeClair, the dancers, even the understudy Vivienne Marsh had reason to want Anya gone.”
Robert’s voice was clipped. “Only someone with full access, someone trusted, could have tracked her every move without raising suspicion. And right now, Cooper fits that description far too well.”
"But why would he work for Volkov?"
Robert was already reaching for his coat. "Money, blackmail, threats against his family—take your pick. These men are experts at finding leverage over people."
As we prepared to leave Scotland Yard, Sergeant Mills approached with a telegram. "Sir, this just came in from Southampton port authority. They've checked the passenger manifest for theMauretaniathat sailed today.”
"And?"
