The next morning, Pavel received a call from an unfamiliar number. A male voice, official and dry:
“Pavel Igorevich Lavrentiev?”
“Yes, it’s me,” Pavel became alert.
“Police Department of the Central District. Yesterday evening, a woman’s body was discovered in a forest belt on the outskirts of the city. Documents in a purse identified her as Kira Andreevna Lavrentieva. Is this your spouse?”
Pavel froze. His heart dropped, then beat fast and loud. He swallowed before answering.
“Yes… That’s my wife. God… I… I’ve been looking for her for three days. She disappeared after dinner at a restaurant. She felt sick, I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she asked to stop, went out for fresh air and… and didn’t come back. I called, searched…”
“I understand. We offer our condolences for your loss. We will require you to come in for official identification. Can you come the day after tomorrow, Friday, at eleven o’clock?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll come. But what… What happened to her?”
“The preliminary cause of death will be established after the autopsy. We will inform you of the details at the meeting.”
Pavel hung up and sank onto the sofa. Relief spread inside him. It worked. They found her. The police suspect nothing strange, thinking it was an accident. Just a couple more days, identification, funeral—and he gets the inheritance. Everything is going according to plan.
He immediately texted Olga: “Darling, a tragedy has happened. Kira died. They found her body. It’s very hard for me, but I know that now we can be together. Be patient a little longer.”
Olga replied a minute later: “How terrible. My condolences. Hang in there.”
“Thanks, love. But I need to deal with the formalities. Soon we will be together. I promise.”
The next day, Thursday, Pavel received another call. This time a female voice, businesslike and polite:
“Pavel Igorevich Lavrentiev?”
“Yes.”
“Capital Bank, Client Relations Department. We have become aware of the death of your spouse, Kira Andreevna Lavrentieva. Please accept our condolences. We have her will in storage, according to which you are the sole heir to all property. Could you come today at 3 PM for a preliminary consultation?”
Pavel felt everything inside him rejoice. This was it. The inheritance. All his.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be there. Which office?”
“Meeting room number 7, on the third floor. We are waiting for you.”
Pavel hung up the phone and laughed. Finally. The debts would be paid. Olga would get her apartment and coffee shop. A new life begins right now.
He took a shower, put on his best suit, shaved. Looked at himself in the mirror. His face looked gaunt, but that could be attributed to grief from losing his wife. Pavel rehearsed a sad expression, sighed several times, portraying sorrow. Need to look convincing.
At 2:45 PM, he was already entering the bank building. Marble floors, high ceilings, guards at the entrance. A solid place. He took the elevator to the third floor, found meeting room number 7. Adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, and knocked.
“Come in,” a female voice sounded.
Pavel opened the door and stepped over the threshold. And froze.
At a long dark wood table sat Kira.
Alive. Pale, thinner, but absolutely alive. Her eyes looked at him coldly and harshly. Next to her sat an unfamiliar man in his forties with an attentive gaze—Gordey Savitsky, though Pavel didn’t know him. And by the window stood a woman in a strict business suit with an ID in her hands.
Pavel turned so pale his face became almost gray. He backed toward the door, but it flew open behind him, and two officers in uniforms with “Investigative Committee” patches blocked the exit.
“What? What is this?” croaked Pavel, looking at Kira. “You? You’re alive? How?”
“Pavel Igorevich Lavrentiev,” the woman by the window stepped forward, showing her ID. “Investigator of the Investigative Committee Daria Saltykova. You are detained on suspicion of attempted murder. You have the right to a lawyer. Anything you say can be used against you in court.”
Pavel swayed. His legs gave way. He grabbed the back of a chair.
“No. This is a mistake. I don’t understand…”
Comments are closed.