“I surmised it,” the man said a little too forcefully.
“A good surmise.” Arkhip smiled. It was important to keep a witness calm. Arkhip found it helped their recollection. “Where was the woman?”
“She was against the wall, to my left.”
“And the other man?”
“What other man?”
Arkhip flipped back through his notes. “You said two men entered the bar. And I said it sounds like a joke . . . You said the two men appeared drunk—”
“Yes. Yes. I don’t know where he was. I didn’t see him.”
“He wasn’t in the alley?” That seemed odd.
“I said I didn’t see him.”
“You don’t know.”
“I surmised he wasn’t there . . . because I didn’t see him.”
“Okay. Yes. What happened next?”
The man looked horrified. “What do you think happened next?”
“I can assure you I have no idea.”
The bartender exhaled. “I shut the door. I didn’t want to get shot. I shut the door and I called the police.”
“Good thinking. Very good thinking,” Arkhip said. He turned to the officer. “Were you first on the scene?”
“Yes. Me and my partner. He’s speaking to people outside. Trying to determine if anyone saw anything.”
“Was there anyone else in the bar?” Arkhip asked the owner.
“No. Everyone had left,” the bartender said.
“Would you like to see the body, Senior Investigator Mishkin?” The officer moved toward the step leading up to the pool table. “I think it might explain some things.”
“Yes, of course.” Arkhip followed, then stopped and stepped back to the bartender. “One more question. You said the decedent was shot. How do you know this?”
The owner looked exasperated. “Because I heard the shot.”
“When you opened the door, did you see the man from the booth holding a gun?”
“Well . . . No.”
“You did not.”
“But . . . I mean I heard the gunshot, and when I opened the door Eldar was leaning against the man. Can I surmise it?”
“Certainly.” Until a good attorney tore him apart on a witness stand. Arkhip folded the cover of his spiral notebook and shoved it and his pencil back into his pocket. “You’ve been very helpful. The officer will come back and take you to Petrovka to give a statement,” he said, referring to the Criminal Investigation Department in Building 38 on Petrovka Street.
“I cannot go home?” the owner said.
“No,” Arkhip said. He turned to the officer. “The body, please.”
The officer stepped to the door at the back of the bar. Arkhip followed. As he passed the booth where the bartender had indicated the third man had sat, a still-full beer bottle remained on the table, and a crime scene investigator awaited instructions. “Make sure you secure that bottle. I want it analyzed for fingerprints and possible DNA.”
“Yes, Senior Investigator.”
Arkhip followed the officer outside. The body lay on the ground beneath a white sheet. Personnel from the medical examiner’s office huddled around it. Garbage cans near the door had been upended and piles of garbage scattered. He noticed half a pool cue on the ground. He looked for the other half and found it a good fifteen feet away. There had been a fight.
“The second pool cue,” he said.
“What’s that?” the uniformed officer asked.
“The rack on the wall is missing two cues. One was on the table. This is the second cue.”
“Okay. The body—”
“There was an altercation here.”
“Apparently.”
Arkhip spoke to the officer’s partner in the alley. “I want pictures, thorough pictures of this alley.” He pointed at the windows in the buildings surrounding the alley. “Have patrol officers canvass the people living in the apartments around this alley to determine if anyone saw or heard anything. Also have someone determine what prostitutes work this area. I want to talk to the woman who was here. Isabella.”
“Yes, Senior Investigator Mishkin,” the officer said.
Arkhip turned and looked up at the light stanchions and telephone poles. Atop a light stanchion across the street from the bar was one of Moscow’s facial recognition cameras, with four different lenses, one aimed directly at the alley. “And get me the number of that light stanchion,” Arkhip called out to the officer.