“And the fact that you’re working with forged documents, does that not break the law?” Grigory Petrovich slammed his palm on the table.
“I didn’t know the documents were forged,” Gromov turned pale. “I swear, everything looked legitimate.”
“What happened next?” the officer nodded at the monitor. “After the appraisal?”
“After the appraisal, we prepared a report. The house was valued at 4 million 200 thousand. Kravchuk agreed to this amount and asked us to find a buyer. We posted a listing.”
“When?” Elena interrupted.
“This morning. And a buyer has already responded. A serious person, ready to buy immediately, with cash. We scheduled a meeting for the day after tomorrow to sign a preliminary agreement.”
Elena covered her face with her hands. The day after tomorrow. Two more days, and the house would have been sold. Her house, where she had lived for over 30 years.
“Where is this buyer now?” Grigory Petrovich asked.
“I don’t know, he called, left a number. Said the money was ready, he was interested in a quick deal.”
“I see.” The officer wrote down the phone number. “Igor Valentinovich, the deal will have to be canceled. A criminal case is being opened for fraud and document forgery.”
“But… But we have nothing to do with it!” Gromov jumped up. “We acted in good faith, we were deceived.”
“We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, give me all the documents, copies of the correspondence. And the contact information for your appraiser.”
Half an hour later, they left the agency. Elena walked as if in a dream, unable to feel her legs. Grigory supported her by the elbow.
“Elena Alexeevna, you need to sit down. There’s a cafe over there, let’s go in.”
They sat at a table by the window. The officer ordered her tea with sugar and a coffee for himself. Elena wrapped her hands around the hot cup, but she couldn’t get warm. The cold was inside, icy and piercing.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would he do this?”
Grigory Petrovich sighed, took a sip of his coffee.
“Money, Elena Alexeevna. 4 million is no small sum. Apparently, he needed it urgently. Or decided to start a new life. It happens.”
“But this is a betrayal. We were together for so many years. 32 years.”
“Worse things happen,” the officer shook his head. “I’ve seen all sorts of things in my years of work. People change. Or they just show their true colors.”
Elena sipped her tea. The hot, sweet liquid revived her a little, cleared her thoughts.
“What do I do now?”
“Now we’ll go to the station, you’ll write a statement. I’ve already called, they’ll open a case. We’ll summon your husband for questioning, order a handwriting analysis, check the notary. If we prove the forgery—and we will—he’s facing jail time. Fraud on a large scale.”
“Jail time,” Elena repeated. It was strange to hear. Her husband, with whom she had lived half her life, could go to prison.
“And the house? Will it remain mine?”
“Of course. The deal is invalid, the documents are fake. The house is yours, and no one will take it away.”
Elena nodded. They spent several hours at the police station. She wrote a statement, explained, answered questions. Grigory Petrovich detailed the tracks, the camera recording, the agency. The investigator, a young woman with a tired face, wrote everything down, nodding.
“We will summon your husband with a subpoena,” she said at the end. “When does he return from his trip?”
“He should be back in a week. But I can call him, tell him to come back sooner.”
“Don’t do that,” the investigator shook her head. “Don’t warn him. Let him think everything is going according to plan. It will be easier to detain him that way…”
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