Sophie takes another well-deserved mouthful of Bloody Mary. ‘Was that helpful?’
‘It was horrific,’ Stacey murmurs.
‘Don’t be blinded by the brutality,’ Frank advises her. ‘We’re here to look at the evidence as investigators, not historians.’
‘Historians are investigators!’ Sophie counters.
Frank raises his palms. ‘No disrespect. I just meant a detective would look at the narrative very differently. Or at least have different questions.’
Stacey asks, ‘Such as?’
I reply, ‘Like why does so much about that story not make sense?’
Sophie bristles. ‘It’s accepted historical fact!’
‘Yeah, well, it’s not accepted by me.’
‘What doesn’t make sense?’
‘The diamonds and other gems!’ I exclaim. ‘The enormous amount of crown jewels the Romanovs are in possession of whilst they’re at Ipatiev House. First of all, how did they get there? The Romanovs won’t have been given the jewels whilst they were being held captive there. That makes no sense. So they must have brought them from their residence in Siberia. And they’ll only have been there because they brought them from the Alexander Palace. Does that really make sense? That under armed guard and whilst they’re under constant supervision, they manage to smuggle so many crown jewels across Russia?’
Frank adds, ‘And when they get to Ipatiev House they’re subject to spot checks. Their personal effects would be examined at random. We know that from the journals of people who were there. They had no freedom at all within the house. OK, they may have been able to stash one or two diamonds. Could have swallowed them or crotched them. But a bloody big hoard like they had? Really? No one noticed them? I don’t buy it.’
Sophie asks, ‘So what do you think the truth is? How were they able to keep such a large amount of bulky valuables?’
Frank looks at me and I say, ‘Well, one obvious explanation presents itself.’
Sophie admits, ‘It’s not obvious to me.’
Stacey says, ‘Me neither, to be honest.’
‘Well, wouldn’t it be reasonable to assume . . .’ I break off as my phone rings. ‘Would you mind if I take this? It’s Ekaterina.’ I pick up. ‘Hello?’
‘Mr Novak! It’s your favourite client! How is the case going?’
‘So far we’ve eliminated Lenin and Trotsky, but Joe Stalin still can’t account for his whereabouts.’
‘I think we got off on the wrong foot.’ Whenever she uses an English idiom, she puts on a version of my accent. It was cute at first.
I reply, ‘I think we got off on the right foot. It was only after a few paces that we stepped into a bear trap.’
‘Da! Well put! Mr Novak, I would like to extricate us from it.’
‘Oh, right. What do you suggest? Couples’ therapy or reinstating date night?’
I’m being sarcastic, but she says, ‘More along the lines of the latter.’
I laugh. ‘Single Russian. GSOH and KGB would like to meet English detective for fun times and possibly more. Must have moral fibre, open mind and a Glock 19.’ I shake my head. ‘I can’t see it flying.’
‘I understand that’s what they said to the Wright Brothers, but the rest is history.’
‘Touché.’
‘A party! I am inviting you, and whoever else is working on this case with you, to a party. Thrown by the Romanov Foundation. It will allow us all to recalibrate. We can all get to know each other a little better and move forward in harmony.’
‘Is that an invitation or a party political broadcast?’
She laughs. ‘A little of both! But what do you say?’
‘Where and when?’
I listen to her reply and let her know I’ll RSVP ASAP.
As I repocket my phone, Frank asks, ‘Who were that?’
‘Ekaterina. We’ve all been invited to a party. Dress code – glad rags and concealed automatics. No jeans.’
Stacey is the first to respond. ‘I’m in.’
Sophie adds, ‘Same. When?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
Frank isn’t quite so enthused. ‘Where’s it being held?’
‘That’s the bit you won’t believe.’
‘Try me.’ Frank gives a wry smile. ‘Where’s the party, Novak?’
I pause, anticipating their responses. ‘Ipatiev House.’