High Wire in Nuala (The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Book 9) by Harriet Steel

Author:Harriet Steel [Steel, Harriet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-16T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The next morning, he collected Prasanna and they drove back up to the racecourse. When they went to find Gordo, de Silva was pleased to see that Boris was in the circus ring watching the dance group. He had been thinking on the way up that if there was an opportunity to search his and Alexei’s tents, it was something he ought to get on with.

‘They practise new act,’ said Gordo. ‘When we move on, there will be more dancing in show until boss find new people to take place of Alexei Ivanovich and Tatiana Petrovna.’

So, Boris didn’t plan to offer Tatiana’s starring role to Izabella.

Leaving Prasanna and Gordo to carry on with questioning the rest of the circus people, he went quietly to Boris’s tent. Urbane as he was in his ringmaster’s costume, Boris’s taste in furnishings was spartan. In a screened-off area that de Silva had not seen into on his previous visit, he found an unmade camp bed, a chair, and a few clothes on a rail with a row of shoes underneath. There were also an empty trunk and another smaller one containing account ledgers, circus posters, handbills, programmes, and books of tickets. Beneath it all, he found a cloth bag containing a document sealed with red wax. The paper crackled as he smoothed it out.

It was Ivan Goncharov’s will. Dated after the family had left Russia, fortunately, it was written in English. De Silva presumed that Goncharov had thought it would be a more useful language than Russian. He scanned the provisions before returning it to the bag. Nadia had been right; Ivan had left the circus to his sons in equal shares, with the proviso that they looked after Tatiana. If one of them wanted to leave, or died, the other would be entitled to the whole business. In the case of death, the survivor must provide for his brother’s widow and children, if any.

Also in the bag was a packet of photographs. The first one he picked up was a grainy, sepia portrait of a stern-looking couple posed beside an aspidistra; the lady sat on a high-backed chair with the man standing behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder. De Silva assumed they were Ivan Goncharov and his wife. Other photographs were informal. They showed children who he guessed to be Boris, Alexei, and Tatiana. In some they played in a garden with a long, low house in the background; in others, they rode ponies.

The only touch of luxury in the tent was a mahogany washstand. On its shelves were ranged an assortment of bottles and jars containing shampoo, rouge, lotions, and toilet water. There was soap scented with sandalwood, a tortoiseshell comb, a silver-backed brush, scissors for trimming hair or paring nails, polish and brushes for shining shoes, and stiff brushes for clothes.

The last thing he found was a jar of pomade. Remembering how Boris’s hair had been slicked back when he acted as ringmaster, de Silva unscrewed the lid. He studied the thick, viscous substance.

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