I remarked that people aren’t murdered for no reason. A stray bullet, that’s another matter. But when it’s with a knife, there’s a reason.
Faida agreed.
Then I said that a lot of people from Oster lived in Chernigov. One Laevskaya, for example. A dressmaker. And an attractive woman.
Faida’s eyes reacted to the name.
At that point, his wife appeared, asking us to go to dinner.
There was a tiny sink with a mirror in the small corridor. I just wanted to rinse my hands. But when I looked, I had a black ring round my mouth. Dried-on earth. Where I’d dribbled in my sleep.
I washed my face.
With a smile I asked Faida, “Why didn’t you tell me my face was dirty? It’s embarrassing.”
Faida dismissed this.
“I didn’t even notice.”
Oh, really? Didn’t notice. He’d done it on purpose. He was ple
