Tatiana: An Arkady Renko Novel (Arkady Renko Novels) by Martin Cruz Smith

to remember because answers came when the mind wandered. Stalin used to draw wolves over and over.
    “Or a bicycle frame,” Arkady said. He remembered going into a bike shop with Zhenya. Hanging from the shop ceiling had been a row of bicycle frames in different colors. “Someone was building a bike.” He walked the idea through. “An expensive bike for a serious biker.”
    “You don’t know that for a fact.”
    “This was custom-made. Not like adding a bell to the handlebars.”
    “Renko, I’m dragging around an oxygen tank. Do I look like I know from bicycles?”
    And that was it. Abruptly, Arkady was dry. He had gone as far as this slender branch of guesswork could support him.
    •  •  •
    “Is this Lieutenant Stasov?”
    “I’ll put you on hold.”
    “Tell the lieutenant that Senior Investigator Renko is on his cell phone from Moscow and wants to talk to him.”
    “You’re first in line.”
    Arkady was first in line for twenty minutes, time enough to return to his apartment and heat a cup of stale coffee.
    Finally, a voice as deep as a barrel answered.
    “Lieutenant Stasov.”
    “Lieutenant, I need just a minute of your time.”
    “If you’re calling from Moscow, it must be important,” Stasov said. Arkady could picture him winking to his pals in the squad room, taking the piss out of the big shot from Moscow. “What can I do for you?”
    “I understand that you are the lead detective in the case of a dead body found ten days ago on one of your beaches.”
    “A male homicide, about forty. That’s correct, at the spit.”
    “The spit?”
    “Where the land narrows. Beautiful beach.”
    “Is the victim still unidentified?”
    “No ID and no address, I’m afraid. If he had a wallet, it’s gone. I’m just glad it didn’t happen in the summertime when the beach is full of families. Anyway, we dug a bullet out of his head. Low caliber, but sometimes that’s what professional killers use.”
    “A contract killer?”
    “In my opinion. We will conduct a thorough investigation. Just keep in mind, we don’t have the technical gear that you have in Moscow. Or money, after Moscow drains the coffers. Moscow is the center and we are the stepchild. I’m not complaining, only putting you in the picture. Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
    “What did he look like?”
    “We had some photos. I’ll find them.”
    “Besides photographs, what was your general impression of the victim?”
    “Skinny. Short and skinny.”
    “His clothes?”
    “Tight and shiny.”
    The lieutenant was going to drag it out, Arkady thought.
    “Tight and shiny as in biking gear?”
    “Could be.”
    “Shoes? There’s no mention of them in your report.”
    “Is that so? I guess he took them off to walk in the sand. Or one of the local boys stole them.”
    “That makes sense. Did you find anything else?”
    “Such as?”
    “Well, if he were an artist he might have brushes and an easel. Or if he collected butterflies, he’d have a net. If he was a biker, he had a bike. He was found on the beach. There was no bike?”
    “Who bikes in the sand?” Stasov asked.
    “That’s what I’m asking you.”
    “I’m really sorry I can’t help you out. The guy was a fruit.”
    Now, what could make the lieutenant say that about a dead man he had never met? Arkady wondered.
    “Did he shave his legs?”
    “Weird, huh?”
    “What kind of public transportation is there from the city of Kaliningrad to this place you call the spit?”
    “During the off-season, none.”
    “A person would have to drive or walk?”
    “I suppose so.” The lieutenant was wary now.
    “Were any cars reported stolen or abandoned near the beach?”
    “No.”
    “Bicycles?”
    “No.”
    “Helmets?”
    “Shit, Renko, relax. I’ll let you know when we find something.”
    “Tell me again exactly where the body was discovered?”
    Lieutenant Stasov hung up, leaving Arkady staring out the kitchen window. The coffee was vile. It