Chapter 42: Gresha

"Boss..." Guo Laoliu pushed the door open and saw Zhou Sen seated at the head of the long table where they usually discussed matters, unmoving and silent. He was startled, trembling as he stretched out a hand to check if Zhou Sen was still breathing.

"I'm alive, still have breath," Zhou Sen glared and spoke.

"Boss, you gave me quite a scare," Guo Laoliu quickly patted his chest. "Those two new young people are pretty good. How did the bureau bring such promising youths to patrol the streets with us?"

"They haven’t graduated yet. Once they finish school, we won’t get a chance like this," Zhou Sen chuckled. "Laoliu, keep a close eye on these two. Make sure they don’t get hurt or run into trouble. Otherwise, I won’t be able to explain myself."

"Are they connected?" Guo Laoliu set down his enamel cup and asked.

"It’s always wise to be cautious," Zhou Sen replied with significance. Having these two assigned now surely wasn’t a simple matter.

"I understand, Boss." Guo Laoliu nodded solemnly. At lunch, Zhou Sen had him join the Qing brothers for a meal, and even mentioned pushing him up to the position of patrol chief. That explained a lot—Zhou Sen might not stay in his current post much longer.

"Laoliu, tell me what you saw this morning," Zhou Sen said seriously.

"Alright, Boss." Guo Laoliu nodded, sat down, and organized his thoughts. "Not long after you and the newcomers left the Sherkin house, Feya went out. I followed her and saw she went to a place called Santos Tea Shop in Daowai. I didn’t dare follow her in, so I waited outside. After about ten minutes, Feya came out and boarded tram number two. I was about to follow her but unexpectedly saw Miss Susanna come out of the tea shop as well. She was wrapped up tightly, but I still recognized her."

"She didn’t notice you, right?" Zhou Sen asked.

"No. I didn’t dare follow. You told me Susanna might be a Soviet spy, and my tracking skills aren’t good enough. If I got spotted, it’d ruin things," Guo Laoliu replied.

"You did well. It appears Susanna and Feya’s relationship is much closer than we thought," Zhou Sen said.

"Could it be the two of them conspiring for money and murder? All of Sherkin’s savings are under Susanna’s name. If Sherkin dies, the money’s all hers," Guo Laoliu analyzed.

"That’s possible, but not the whole story. Don’t you find it odd that the people at Songjiang Daily seem indifferent to Sherkin’s death?" Zhou Sen said. "A colleague died, yet they rushed to clear out and divide Sherkin’s belongings at the office. Isn’t that cold?"

"True, Boss. This case is getting more complicated. Should we keep investigating?" Guo Laoliu asked with concern.

"Of course. This case was assigned by Mr. Akiyama himself—it must have a conclusion," Zhou Sen said. "But we must simplify complex problems. Focus solely on the case itself, understand?"

"So how do we proceed?"

"Start with Feya. Investigate her finances, especially her relationship with Susanna. That’s the priority," Zhou Sen said. Soviet spy or not, that’s not his concern. He’d just find out who killed Sherkin, and if the motive was for profit, all the better.

"Got it. I’ll figure something out," Guo Laoliu understood—treat the case as an ordinary homicide, ignore any unrelated matters, pretend not to see or know, to avoid trouble.

"Don’t force anything. Your safety comes first," Zhou Sen reminded him.

Guo Laoliu nodded. "Ye San’er said we’re welcoming the newcomers tonight at that hot pot place we went to a few days ago..."

"Let’s leave tonight. I’m a bit tired. Change it to tomorrow," Zhou Sen declined. He’d had too much at lunch—drinking again tonight would be bad for his health, and not drinking would seem awkward. Better to reschedule.

"Alright, I’ll let Ye San’er know."

...

Number 12, Maimai Street—Zhou Sen decided to go personally, to find the Grisha mentioned by Susanna and learn more.

It was conveniently on his way home.

He hailed a small horse-drawn carriage, simply telling the driver "Maimei Street" without specifying an address. The coachman didn’t ask further.

Zhou Sen was familiar with the streets of the Ice City. When the carriage reached the vicinity he wanted, he signaled to stop and paid the fare.

He got off, glanced around behind and to the sides, then strode forward toward his goal—Number 12, Maimai Street.

Number 12 was an apartment building. Entering, he followed Susanna’s directions and went up to the third floor. The bank teller named Grisha lived in room 303.

Bank hours ended early; by this time, Grisha should be home unless she had social engagements or a date.

If she wasn’t home, Zhou Sen didn’t mind waiting. He’d already rehearsed what he wanted to say.

He arrived at the door of room 303, listened for any movement—silence. Zhou Sen knocked. No answer.

It seemed he was unlucky; Grisha wasn’t back yet.

Zhou Sen walked to the end of the corridor by the window, took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and smoked.

The cigarette soon vanished between his fingers.

He crushed the stub under his shoe, put his gloves back on, and leaned against the window ledge, hat brim lowered, quietly waiting.

Tap tap...

The sound of high heels echoed on the stairs. Clearly, a woman was coming up. Zhou Sen lifted his head, pushed up his hat, and glanced toward the stairwell.

A young White Russian woman, in her twenties, with brown wavy hair, holding a leather purse in one hand, twirling keys with her index finger in the other, humming a Russian folk song with a cheerful expression.

Zhou Sen had never met Grisha, but this girl walked straight to the third floor, likely a resident.

She strutted along, a strong smell of alcohol trailing her, stopping at room 303. Turning her head, she noticed Zhou Sen at the end of the corridor, leaning by the window.

Curiosity, surprise, and an indefinable emotion flickered in her eyes.

The next moment, she actually walked toward Zhou Sen.

Zhou Sen smiled slightly and stepped forward, asking in fluent Russian, "Miss Grisha, is it?"

"Oh, how do you know my name?" Grisha stepped back in surprise, evidently startled by Zhou Sen calling her by name.

"You have a friend named Susanna, right?" Zhou Sen advanced, his tone slightly pressing.

"Yes, you know Susanna? Where has she been these days? I've been looking for her everywhere," Grisha asked excitedly.

"She’s fine, nothing’s happened. It’s just inconvenient for her to see you," Zhou Sen stepped forward again, stopping about two meters away to avoid frightening her.

"Who are you?"

"I’m also her friend. Susanna’s been staying at a place I arranged for her," Zhou Sen explained.

"I don’t believe it. She’s never mentioned having a Chinese friend," Grisha eyed Zhou Sen warily; in her view, many Chinese had questionable character.

"Miss Grisha, I know Susanna’s boyfriend, Sherkin, was killed at home a few days ago. She’s afraid Sherkin’s death will implicate her, so she’s hiding and afraid to see you. She also fears the killer might come after her. Do you understand?"

"Why are you here? I’m just Susanna’s friend; I don’t know anything about her affairs," Grisha hurriedly tried to distance herself.

"The police are investigating Sherkin’s case, and Susanna is his girlfriend—this can’t be concealed. On the afternoon Sherkin was killed, she met with someone at Lucia Café, then Sherkin was murdered that night. The police will suspect Susanna is involved, and will issue a warrant for her. As her friend, the police will question you, and your testimony is critical to Susanna."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Miss Grisha, do you really want us to keep talking out here in the corridor?" Zhou Sen countered.

Grisha considered, then unlocked the door, turned on the light, and invited Zhou Sen in.

It was a small one-bedroom apartment, the living room leading directly to the bedroom, with a bathroom but no kitchen—she likely didn’t cook at home.

Grisha appeared polished and tidy outside, but her apartment was another story. Clothes and shoes were scattered everywhere, not at all like a typical girl’s home.

"Sorry, I live alone. Not many guests..." Grisha apologized.

"Miss Grisha, on the night Sherkin was killed—February 1st—Susanna was with you, wasn’t she?"

"Yes. She wasn’t feeling well those days, took leave from the bank, and stayed with me," Grisha nodded.

"Not feeling well—her period?"

"Yes, that pain, the kind that feels like dying," Grisha gestured as she spoke.

"Did she see a doctor or take medicine?"

"She did. The doctor prescribed some painkillers and told her to drink hot water and use heat packs."

"On the night of the first, when did she come back? Was she with you all night, didn’t go out?" Zhou Sen pressed.

"Susanna didn’t tell you?" Grisha grew suspicious. If Zhou Sen were really Susanna’s trusted friend, wouldn’t he know this?

"What I mean is, if the police ask, you need to say Susanna came back early and stayed with you all night, didn’t go out. Do you understand?" Zhou Sen quickly clarified, watching Grisha’s reaction.

At Zhou Sen’s words, Grisha’s expression betrayed a hint of unease—clearly, something was wrong.

"Do I have to say that?" Grisha’s nervousness gave her away. That night, Susanna definitely had something to hide.

"You and Susanna are close friends. If something happens to her, do you think you can distance yourself?" Zhou Sen was now certain—on the night Sherkin was killed, even if Susanna wasn’t the murderer, she was closely connected to the case.

Was Susanna truly a Soviet spy?

If Akiyama had solid evidence, why not arrest her directly instead of telling Zhou Sen and letting him investigate?

Was this merely a test?

Given the Japanese approach, they would rather kill three thousand by mistake than let one slip away—unless Susanna had greater value and a higher target.

But if Susanna was so important, why hand her to Zhou Sen?

What on earth was Akiyama up to behind the scenes?