Read A Night in the Cemetery and Other Stories of Crime & Suspense Page 10


  “What do you mean by ‘we’?”

  “‘We’—means common people, the folks from the Klimov village, that’s who I mean.

  “Listen to me, man. Do not pretend to be an idiot. Tell me straight, why are you telling me these lies about fishing rods and plummets?”

  “I have never lied in my whole life, and now you say that I am lying?” Denis winks with his eye. “Your honor, do you think that I can go fishing without a plummet? If I go fishing with live bait, how can it get to the bottom of the river without a plummet? You think I am lying.” Dennis gave a short subdued laugh. “What would happen to the live bait if it flowed on the surface of the water? All the big fish worth catching, whether perch or pike, always live near the bottom. And if the bait only floats on the surface, then only small fish are caught, like baby perch or trout. But we do not have trout, for it likes big spaces.”

  “Why do you tell me stories about the lake trout?”

  “Because all of the gentlemen who come to our river all fish in the same way; even the youngest boys never go fishing without a plummet. Only people who do not know anything about fishing can go without it. You can always find a stupid guy who does this.”

  “Let me see if I understand you correctly. Are you telling me that you unscrewed this nut for the sole purpose of making a plummet?”

  “Yes, what else? I was not going to play knuckle-bones.”

  “But you can get lead for the plummet, using a bullet or a big nail of some kind.”

  “You cannot just find a piece of lead on the road, you have to buy it, and the nail won’t do the trick. You cannot find anything better than the nut from the railway track, for it is heavy and already has a hole.”

  “It seems to me that you are pretending to be a fool—as if you were born yesterday, or you just fell from the sky. Do not you understand what could have happened as a result of unscrewing those nuts? If the railway guard had not noticed you, then the train could have gone off its rails, causing an accident where people could have been killed. You could have killed many!”

  “God save me from this, your honor. Why would I kill? Do you think that we do not believe in God, or that we are some sort of criminals? Thank God, I have lived a long life and have never killed anyone, but I never even had thoughts about doing so. Help us, holy mother; what are you talking about, dear sir?”

  “Why do you think that train accidents happen on the railway? After you unscrew a couple of nuts, the rail won’t hold in its place, and an accident can occur.”

  Dennis smiles as he squints his eyes at the interrogator in disbelief. “Don’t tell me this! All the guys in our village have been unscrewing nuts for years. Only now has anyone mentioned train accidents and people being killed. You would unscrew a whole section, carry the rail away, or cut a tree and put a huge log across the railway—then maybe the train would have an accident, but in this case—this is nothing, it’s just a trifle, just a nut!”

  “Do you not understand that these nuts are attaching the rails to the railway ties?

  “We understand this, for we do not unscrew all the nuts. We take just some, here and there, and we try to calculate how we do it, logically. We do understand.”

  “About a year ago, a train fell off its rails at this location,” the interrogator comments. “ Now I understand why it happened.”

  “What did you say, sir?” asks Dennis.

  “Now I understand why that train had its accident.”

  “You are an educated person, and so you understand everything, your honor. God gave you this understanding. But we know that the security guard is one of us, just a peasant, but he showed me no respect. He grabbed me roughly by my shirt collar and dragged me before the police. First you should talk to people, and then take action. Yes, he is a peasant with a peasant mind. You should make note, sir, that he hit me right on my jaw, and then my chest.”

  “When they were searching your house, they found another nut. Where did you unscrew it from and when did you do it?”

  “Are you talking about the nut that was lying under my little red chest?”

  “I don’t know exactly in what part of your house it was hidden, but they found it. When did you unscrew this nut?”

  “I did not unscrew it. It was John, the son of the lame Sam, who gave it to me.”

  “I am talking about the second nut, the one we found in the front yard in the carriage, that we have linked to Dimitry.”

  “What nut are you talking about? Who’s Dimitry? The only other place anyone can get nuts from is Mat Petrov. He makes fishing nets and sells them to the landlords. He gets lots of nuts like this every year. For each fishing net, he needs at least ten of them.”

  “Listen to me. Paragraph 1081 of the criminal code says that for any damage done with malicious intent to the railway, which endangers the railway train while moving on its particular railway track, which leads to the possibility of a train accident, should be punished. You should have known about the possibility of an accident, and the punishment is that this person is to be sentenced to prison.”

  “You know better, your honor. We are uneducated people. I cannot even read. How can I understand what you are talking about?”

  “You understand everything. You are lying to me, you pretender.”

  “How can I pretend or lie? Ask anyone in the village if you do not believe me. Without the plummet, you can go fishing only for the perch or small trout, which are worse than gudgeon, and even then you cannot catch it with the fishing rod without a plummet.”

  “Then tell me more about the trout.”

  “They cannot have much trout there. Sometimes we go fishing with fishing rods using butterfly as bait, then you can catch some salmon. But this rarely happens.”

  Several moments of silence follow this conversation. Dennis shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He squints at the interrogator, who is quickly writing something down.

  “Can I go now?” Dennis asks after a period of silence.

  “No, I have to take you into custody and send you to prison.”

  Dennis lifts his glance to the investigator, and says, “What do you mean you are sending me to prison? Your honor! I do not have time. I have to go to the market. I have to pay three rubles to George for the meat he took from the butcher.”

  “Keep silent! Do not interfere with my work.”

  “How can you take me to prison? If only I did something bad, but—for this, over nothing? I did not steal anything, and I did not beat anyone. If it’s about my not paying my debts, your honor, please do not listen to the city hall clerk. He does not know what he is talking about.

  “Keep quiet.”

  “I am keeping quiet.”

  “Stop talking.”

  Dennis mumbles under his breath, “The city hall clerk was lying in his report. There are three brothers in the family—Koozma, then George, and then me, Dennis.”

  “You are interfering with my work!! Officer,” the interrogator cries out on the hall. “Take him into custody right away and deliver him to his cell.”

  “There are three brothers, three of us,” Dennis mumbles as two big strong officers take him by the arm and bring his to a cell. “A brother should not be responsible for his brother’s actions. If he does not pay taxes, why should I be responsible for his actions? Hey, judge, too bad the general has died; he was a great man who would have told you how to deal with this properly. You can flog me, or beat me up, at least that way I get what I deserve for what I have done.”

  DEATH OF AN OFFICE WORKER

  One wonderful evening, an office gofer, Mr. Ivan Dmitrievich Worm, sat in the second row of a theater, watching the play Bells of Cornville. He watched the play and felt himself at the height of bliss. But suddenly …

  Many stories have that phrase, “but suddenly.” Authors are right: life is filled with unexpected turns of events.

  But suddenly, he scowled, rolled his eyes upward, stopped breathing for a while, averted his gaze from
his binoculars, bent his body and, and then, “Achoo!” he sneezed, as you see.

  Everyone is allowed to sneeze. All kind of people sneeze: peasants, police chiefs; even secret councilors do it sometimes. Anyone can sneeze.

  Mr. Worm was not confounded; he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and, being a polite man, looked around to make sure he had not disturbed anyone with his sneezing. At this point he did become confounded. He saw an old man sitting right in front of him, in the first row, diligently wiping his bald head with a glove and mumbling to himself. Mr. Worm instantly realized that the old man was the state general Whining, who served at the Ministry of Railways.

  “I sneezed on him; I spewed my saliva all over his head!” Mr. Worm thought. “He is somebody else’s boss, not mine; but I do feel rather uncomfortable. I must apologize.”

  Mr. Worm cleared his throat, leaned his body forward, and whispered in the general’s ear:

  “Excuse me, Your Honor, for sneezing on you; I did not mean it.”

  “Quite all right; think nothing of it.”

  “Please do forgive me, for heaven’s sake. I did not—I did not intend to do it.”

  “Please, do be quiet. I want to hear the play.”

  Mr. Worm became even more confused, forced a stupid smile, and turned his gaze to the stage. He watched the play but got no more pleasure from it. He felt anxious.

  During the intermission, he approached Mr. Whining, cornered him, and then, fighting his shyness, mumbled, “I spit at you, Your Honor. I did not mean it. So please forgive me, dear sir.”

  “Please stop this. I have already forgotten it, and you still remember? Please let it go,” the general said, impatiently twitching his lower lip.

  “He’s forgotten, but he has this evil look in his eyes,” thought Mr. Worm, looking suspiciously at the general. “He doesn’t even want to talk to me. I must explain to him that I didn’t intend to do it; it’s the law of nature. Otherwise he might think I did it on purpose. He won’t think about it right now, but he might later on.”

  When Mr. Worm came home, he told his wife the story of his ignorance. It seemed to him that his wife paid too little attention to the event; at first she was alarmed, but then, after she found that the general was from another ministry, she calmed down.

  “But, anyway, you ought to go ask for forgiveness,” she said. “Otherwise he might think you don’t know how to behave in public.”

  “That’s it; that’s exactly how I feel. I apologized to the general, but he behaved somewhat strangely. He said nothing definite. And besides, we didn’t have enough time to talk then.”

  The next day, Mr. Worm put on his new uniform coat, cut his hair, and went to Whining to explain and apologize. When he entered the general’s waiting room he saw many visitors, and then the general himself, surrounded by the crowd. After the general had spoken to a few people, he lifted his eyes to Mr. Worm.

  “Your Honor, you might remember me. Yesterday, at the Arcadia Theater,” the executor reported, “I sneezed, and then, quite by chance, I dropped it on you.”

  “What a trifle, for heaven’s sake! What are you going on about? How can I help you?” the general addressed the next visitor.

  “He doesn’t even want to talk to me,” thought Mr. Worm, turning pale. “He must be angry with me. No, I can’t leave this in such a state. I will explain everything to him in a moment.”

  When the general finished talking to the last visitor and turned to go into the back room, Mr. Worm stepped up to him and mumbled, “Your Honor! If I dare impose on your time, sir, it is only due to the feelings of remorse I am experiencing at the moment. I did not do it on purpose, sir.”

  The general made a sour face and waved his hand in the air.

  “You mock me, sir!” he said, taking cover behind the door.

  “What mockery?” thought Mr. Worm. “It’s nothing of the kind. The general just didn’t get it! I won’t apologize to him anymore, the freak. Forget that. I’ll write him a letter, but I’m not going to go to see him in person again.”

  Mr. Worm thought about it all the way home. He did not write a letter to the general. He thought about the text of the letter, but could not make up his mind what to write. So, he had to go see the general in person the next day.

  “Yesterday I dared disturb Your Honor,” he started mumbling when the general lifted his inquiring eyes to him. “But I did not do so with the purpose of mocking you, as Your Honor informed me. I was merely apologizing for sneezing and dropping my sneeze upon you; I did not at all plan to mock you. How could I dare mock you?

  “If we simple people should start mocking important persons, then there would be no respect for such persons, and then, you know—”

  “Get out of here! Get out!” yelled the general at the top of his voice, his face turning blue and his body trembling.

  “What did you say, sir?” asked Mr. Worm in a whisper, frozen with terror.

  “Get out!” repeated the general, and stomped his foot with rage.

  Suddenly something broke in Mr. Worm’s heart. Hearing and seeing nothing, he backed out to the door, went out into the street, and dragged himself home. He got home mechanically, and, without taking off his official uniform coat, lay down on the sofa and died.

  75 GRAND

  Late at night, about midnight, two friends were walking along Tverskoy Boulevard. The first man was tall and handsome, with brown hair. He was wearing an old bear fur coat and a brown top hat. The second man was a short redhead who wore a dark red coat with polished ebony buttons. Both were silent as they went. The first whistled a tune, and the second looked gloomily under his feet as they walked, and spat to the side from time to time.

  “Would you like to sit for a while?” the brown-haired man suggested as they were passing the dark monument of Pushkin and the dimly lit entrance of the Strastnoi Monastery. The redhead consented, and the two friends sat down on a park bench.

  “I have a small personal favor to ask you, Nikolai Borisovich,” said the dark-haired man after some silence between them. “Dear friend, can you lend me ten or fifteen rubles? I will give the money back to you in a week.” The redhead said nothing.

  “I would never have asked you if not for extreme necessity. Fate has played a lousy joke on me. My wife gave me her bracelet earlier today to pawn. She has to pay for her sister’s tuition.

  “So I pawned it, then played cards and lost the money.”

  The red-haired man moved on his seat and cleared his throat.

  “You are not a serious man, Vasily Ivanych,” he said with an evil smile.

  “Not a serious man at all. You had no right to sit down and play those cards. How could you gamble if you knew that it was not your money you were betting?”

  He continued, “Wait, don’t interrupt me, let me tell you once and for all. Why do you need all these new clothes, this pin on your tie? You are a poor man, why do you want to look fashionable? Why are you wearing this stupid hat? You live at your wife’s expense and then go and pay one hundred fifty rubles for that hat on your head.” Vasily touched the hat he was wearing on his head.

  “You could have a nice fur hat that only costs three rubles, and neither fashion nor beauty would suffer. Why do you always boast about your important friends, if you don’t know these people? You said that you personally know Ivanov, Plevako, and other publishers. I was burning with shame at your name-dropping nonsense. You lied without even blushing! And when you played cards and lost your wife’s money to those women tonight, you were wearing such a stupid grin, I would be ashamed to have anything to do with you. I don’t even want to slap your face.”

  “Stop it. You’re in a rotten mood today. Enough!”

  “All right, I can admit that you act like an idiot because you are too young. But Vasily, I can’t understand it. How can you play cards and cheat? I saw you pull the ace of spades from the bottom of the pack!”

  Vasily Ivanovich blushed like a high school student and tried to apologize. T
he accusations of the red-haired man continued. They had a long, loud dispute. Finally, they calmed down and became silent.

  “Yes, it is true, I have done wrong,” said the brown-haired man after a long silence. “It is true. I spent too much money. And now I am in debt. I spent my wife’s money and I can’t find the way out. Have you ever felt like you are itchy all over, and there is no cure? This is how I feel now. I feel terrible about myself. I’m in it up to my neck. I am ashamed of myself, and of the human race in general. I make mistakes, I do bad things, I have low motives, and I cannot stop, I am too bad!” He scratched his chin. “If I were to receive an inheritance or win the lottery, then I think I would be able to give up my bad habits and start all over again. And you, Nikolai Borisovich, please don’t blame me. Don’t throw stones at me. Remember Mr. Clumsy.”

  “I remember him very well,” said the red-haired man. “I remember him. He spent somebody else’s money at a restaurant to show off in front of his girlfriend, and he wound up crying on her shoulder, although he wasn’t crying before he did it.

  “It’s shameful to even speak of that scoundrel. If he didn’t have good manners or such nice looks, the girl would never have fallen in love with him and he would never have repented. Bad people are good-looking as a rule. Like you, for example.

  “You’re all womanizers. Women don’t love you; they only want to have an affair with you. It’s strange. You’re very lucky with women.” The redhead stood up and started pacing around the bench.

  “Your wife, for example. She is an honest and noble woman. Why did she fall in love with you? And today, for example, that pretty blonde never moved her glance from you for a second when you lied and played the fool. Women fall in love with men like you. It is completely different with me. I have worked hard all my life. I am an honest man, and I deserve at least one moment of happiness. And then, do you remember, I was engaged to Olga Alekseevna, your wife, a long time ago, before she knew you, and I had a little bit of happiness, and then you came along and I was totally ruined.”