The Bracken Bloom (2) "I've just no time for both killing and digging. But we can distribute the work - you will dig and I will kill." "You see, just got no wish to sin against the Lord." "Where the hell do you see a sin? You yourself said that Man's doomed to die. Why should you care about the way my wife will leave this world? Imagine she died of some disease or an accident. You'll do your usual job you've been doing for twenty years. I guess at this graveyard there lie quite a few people who were murdered. Did you ever refuse to bury them? No, you didn't. Because burying people is just your way to earn money. No it's the same situation. I pay - you bury." "Wanna buy me over?" "Not at all. Just going to pay for a piece of work, which you do almost every day. Digging with a spade can't be considered as a crime. It's your job." "Hiding traces of a crime ain't my job." "Well, of course there's a minor risk, but the sum I'm going to give you is much greater than the ordinary pay for your none too easy work." "What do you mean by "much greater"?" "Okay, a good question. Well... I guess I can afford to give you something like three thousand American dollars. Alright not about, let's set it accurately. I'll give you three thousand dollars exactly. Who else will ever give you such a sum for digging a small hole that can't even be called a grave? Tell me, maybe you think I'm going to deceive you, or you're afraid that I'll kill you as well, just to get rid of the witness." All of a sudden Grigory seized Boris by the shirt with both his hands and drew him close to his face, smelling of gorilka, sausage, onion and rotting teeth. "You, sucker, there's nobody I'm afraid of, including a snotty bastard like you." "Well, well, Grigory, let's forget all I said," Boris tried to remedy the situation. "Just let me go." "Just got no wish to soil my hands with shit," Grigory unclenched his huge fists and Boris lowered himself back onto the stool. A tense, edgy silence occupied the room. The thoughtful gaze of the gravedigger fixed itself on the bread-crumbed tabletop, while his night guest, his head turned away, looked into the dark distance through the small square of the only window. Finally Boris ventured to break the deadly hush that had lasted a good few minutes. "Okay, Grigory, thanks for the gorilka and I think it's time to go." Grigory slowly lifted his eyes, fixed them on Boris's face and asked: "Is she really such a bitch?" "There's no worse one." "Maybe there's another way out, without a crime. Have you thought it out?" "Yeah - it's my final decision." "I once, too, was about to kill my wife with an axe. I was all too boozed. Now I thank God I failed to do it. And I'd strongly advise you against it." "Grigory, I need your help much more than your advice." "You see, I need no money, my requirements are minimal. But I do love my daughter. I just wanna see her well educated. You're right, she lives among alien people who don't have much respect for guys like me. Money is the thing that can help her live in a foreign place." "Grigory, if you agree to kill my wife, I'll give even more money." "No," the gravedigger shook his head, "but I will do the thing I'm used to. I'll bury her. And remember what to say to the cops - I was sleeping, you were burying." "No problem, you can fully rely on me. But I'm positive it won't come to that." "Then don't waste your time," said Grigory, "I'm getting sleepy. "Alright," Boris got to his feet, "I'm off right away." "And how are you gonna carry the body over here?" inquired Grigory. "Don't worry," Boris replied cheerfully, "I'll manage it somehow. And don't be afraid, everything will be done to a T." He turned around and staggered over to the door. After Boris left the hut, the gravedigger stood up, took the spade from the tool rack, switched off the light and went outside. Boris did not come that night. When dawn was about to gleam, Grigory, having realized the inanity of waiting longer and unable to control his drowsiness any more, pulled the spade out of the earth hillock by the grave and strolled over to the hut. At noon, when the old beekeeper was being buried, no one paid attention to the fact that the grave was a little deeper than it had to be. After the ceremony was over and the cemetery again became deserted, Grigory took a fishing rod and set off for the pond to bathe after a dusty and sweaty job and then while away a couple of hours angling. On the bank he saw a group of people playing beach ball. Boris was one of them. Grigory came closer and hailed his new acquaintance. "Boris, who's that?" asked Nina in surprise, after the game had finished. "Just... I don't know... wait a little guys, I'll be back soon," Boris answered, confused. He ran over to Grigory. "Hi, bud," Grigory greeted him. "Hi, let's walk away a little," Boris took the gravedigger aside, "Well, Grigory, how are you?" "Fine, see you haven't forgotten me yet." "Of course I haven't. 'Specially I remember your gorilka. It's not so easy to play ball after that drink. Something of a hangover." "Don't talk rubbish. I've come to get my dough." "What dough?" "The three thousand bucks you promised to give me yesterday." "What for?" "I made the beekeepers grave a bit deeper to let you bury your wife there." "What nonsense," Boris shrugged his shoulders, "Why should I bury my wife?" Grigory spat. "Don't make a fool of me. You were gonna kill her." "Who? Me? My wife's alive, look - there she stands by the water. That's my wife and I was never going to kill her." "Yesterday you didn't talk about her like that." "I was drunk, maybe I said something foolish, but I can't be responsible for all I say whilst intoxicated, specially with your gorllka." "Intoxication doesn't belong to extenuating circumstances and you can't put blame upon my booze." "Damn it," Boris shook his head, "you talk like a scholar prosecutor in court. Well, even if I actually said something like that, I wasn't able to kill anybody. You saw me leaving, I literally crawled up to the tent." "I'm not interested in the way you got to the tent. To kill your wife wasn't my notion at all. You were so long persuading me to help you. You promised to pay me if I'd made the grave deeper. I've done so, but haven't received the money yet. It's a mere fraud and I don't like it." "But how can I give you the money if my wife's alive?" "It doesn't matter. You promised to pay not for murdering your wife but for working with a spade. I did do what I was asked to and now I want to get my deserved pay." "Look here, you're paid for burying dead people, not for digging just holes in the ground. If my wife ain't buried, how can I pay for her burial?" "There was a case once. I dug a grave but it happened to be unnecessary. However I was paid the whole sum I'd been promised." "You wanna say that the deceased refused your service?" "The deceased was half Jewish, and at the last moment her relatives changed their mind and decided to bury her at the Jewish cemetery, but they paid me as if I'd buried her" "My wife ain't a Jew and what's more I've simply no such a sum." "That's no excuse. You promised to pay - you must pay." "Okay, Grigory, I think I can give you a certain sum of money for the trouble I put you to, but it can't be three thousand bucks." Grigory cast a scornful glance at Boris. "I need only what I've been promised and if you're not gonna pay the right sum, I'll go to your wife and tell her something she's not gonna be glad to know." "She won't believe a word of your story. It's nothing but dirty blackmail." "Now we'll see her reaction," Grigory took a step towards the tents. "No, you won't do that," Boris barred the gravedigger's way, spreading his arms out. "Only the money you owe me can stop me." "Alright, let me think a little." Boris dropped his arms, "Just give me a few minutes to think it over." "I see you wanna play for time. Alright, so be it. I'll give you some time, but not too much. I'm gonna take a little swim and when I get out of the water, I want my money here, waiting for me, otherwise I'll go to your wife straight away." Grigory turned around and slowly walked along the bank, looking for a spot to bathe in. Boris, petrified and bewildered, was following the gravedigger with his eyes and only after the latter got undressed and took a running dive into the water, did he dart his look in the opposite direction. Andrew, Oksana and Nina, carried away with the game, seemed to have forgotten him. He dashed up to them, seized an item from the belongings lying about the camp, dropped it, picked it up again and wildly threw it back onto the ground. "I say everybody, strike the camp, pack up and drive away immediately!" he shouted in a mad voice as he put all his energy into pulling out the tent pegs. "Andrew, get the car started!" "Boris, I don't understand you." "What's up?" "What are you doing?" All the three stared in astonishment at their pal, who was furiously struggling to dismantle the tent. "Why are you standing like idiots?" Boris yelled, "I say pack up and get away, I'll explain all later" Evening fell. No one wanted to die, there was nothing to do, so Grigory decided to go home. He caught a bus to town and in twenty minutes alighted at the stop by the taproom, or the Cellar as it was called, due to its situation under the two-storied building of the local department stores. The heat, which had not yet abated, would not allow him to pass, so he descended the flight of stairs and entered the faintly lit room which was filled with a pleasurable mixture of damp coolness and the aroma of beer. He was sipping his second draught when his old pal Mickola came in. "Hi, Grigory" "Hi, fella." "I'll just get some beer at the bar and then join you." Mickola came back to the table with a mug of foaming drink and took the seat opposite Grigory. "How doing, bud? You look really gloomy." Grigory took a long swallow from his glass and looked at his friend. "Just been fooled today." "Really? Tell me all." "I was asked to do a piece of work. I did it but got no pay," "Why?" "The fella just refused to pay and I was stupid enough to let him get away." "And who's that bastard?" "Some guy called Boris, came here from St Petersburg." "Why, it seems I know him. Of course, I know him. That's the friend of my neighbour Andrew Sitko. Andrew now lives in St Petersburg and he brought that guy and his wife over here for their vacation." "Yeah the fella's got a wife. "Well, if he really offended you, we can settle everything now. First let's finish off the beer and then go straight away to Andrews. He knows me very well. When he was a kid, he used to steal apples from my garden, but now he's a nice fella. He can honestly solve any problem between you and Boris. And if his friend's really done something wrong to you, he won't shield him. Okay, what d'you say to my suggestion?" "I say let's not waste time," Having walked through the small, neat garden, the two friends halted on the porch of Andrew Sitko's house and rang the bell. The answer was not long in coming. Andrew, dressed in denim shorts and a yellow T-shirt, came out. "Good evening Mickola." "Good evening, neighbour. Gotta have a talk to you." "What about?" "You see, my friend Gigory wants to see your mate Boris." "Boris? I was sure he knew nobody around here. But wait, yeah, it was you, Grigory, who talked to him this morning. I must confess I didn't recognize you then, so many years I haven't seen you, perhaps since I buried Dad. Well, come in. Today's my wife's birthday and we're about to start a kind of party for four persons, but you can join us and down a couple of glasses to Oksana's health." Boris, who had been busy trying to impart harmony to the table, became petrified when the three men entered the room. "Hello, Boris. You thought you could run away from me, didn't you?" Grigory came up to the table and lowered himself onto the chair that was evidently intended for the host of the festivities. "Boris, what does this man want of you?" Nina got up off the armchair, which was immediately occupied by Mickola. "Ma'am, if you don't know this man yet, I can introduce him to you. This is my best friend Grigory. Please be kind and gracious to him," Mickola drew a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "I hope smoking ain't banned here." "Andrew," Oksana looked disapprovingly at her husband, "can you explain what all this means?" "I guess I can explain, " Grigory said in a calm tone. "You see your friend owes me three thousand dollars and I'd like him to pay off his debt right now and right here." "Three thousand? Dear, tell me what's going on?" Nina jerked Boris by his arm. "I don't know what he's talking about. I owe him nothing," mumbled Boris. Nina turned to Grigory. "Then you, sir, be so kind as to tell me what money you want from my husband." "Well, last night, when you were asleep in the tent by the pond, your husband asked me to dig a grave. And he promised to give me three thousand bucks for it." "Three thousand for a grave? You must be insane. What's more my husband doesn't need any grave, he's not going to die." "You're right, it wasn't him I dug the grave for." "So you see, my husband couldn't ask you to do such a stupid thing and he can't give you any money." Grigory crossed his legs. "In that case it's you, ma'am, who should pay me for my night of labour." "Why should I do so?" "'cause it's you who I dug the grave for." "What did you say?" "I said that last night I dug a grave where your husband was going to hide your corpse." On hearing this news Nina grasped the table edge with her trembling hand so as not to collapse. "Oh, my God!" The burning match that was about to light the cigarette in Mickola's mouth suddenly dropped from his hand and fell onto the floor, "So, he not only duped my friend but wanted to murder his own wife. Grigory, why didn't you tell me all?" "Wait, guys, I don't get it," intervened Andrew. "Let's sit down at the table, take some drink and try to get to the bottom of it." At last the wish to know the truth overcame Nina's shock and she slowly, in a tremulous voice, pronounced: "Please repeat all you've just said." "Okay," Grigory sneered. "Last night your husband came to the cemetery where I work as a gravedigger. We had some drink then he started persuading me to help him kill you but I, of course, refused to. At last he decided to kill you without anybody's assistance, but he promised me three thousand bucks if I'd bury you in the same grave as the old beekeeper." "Who the fuck is the beekeeper?" Nina asked angrily. "His name was Fedor, everybody used to love him," explained Mickola. "Thank you, but I don't need such an honour as to be buried together with that favourite of yours. Darling," Nina addressed her husband, "I know that all this psycho, whatever his name is, says is a lie, but don't be silent, tell us everything." "I was drunk," Boris faltered, "yeah, I was drunk and I can't remember a thing." "Wonderful!" Nina cried out. "So you were drunk and you're not going to contradict his words!" "I can't tell you anything of that night. Very likely he's lying to blackmail me but, as I say, I remember nothing." "What do you mean by "very likely"?" inquired Nina. "Aren't you going to deny that you wanted to kill me?" "And I wanna ask your husband what he means by "blackmail"?" added Grigory. "Boris, don't you remember you called your wife a bitch?" "Boris, you couldn't say that," Nina shook her head. "Of course, I couldn't." "Well, Boris, try to recollect everything," Nina approached her husband, who pressed himself against the wall. "Did you really go to the cemetery? If not, please explain how this man got to know you."
Copyright © 2003 Gene O'div |