“I have just returned to Petrograd.” He shook his head. “And I believe such an important case was always likely to be treated as a political and not simply criminal matter, for reasons that will be obvious to you.”

She stared at him. “It has brought shame on our country, and our class.”

Ruzsky didn’t answer. He wondered exactly what relationship this woman enjoyed with the Empress. Technically, as he recalled, she was a lady-in-waiting, but clearly also much more. This was the woman much of Russia believed to be a lesbian lover of the Empress, and participant in orgies that were variously said to involve both the Tsar and Rasputin.

“If your business is not important,” she went on, “then why do you trouble me with it?”

Vyrubova’s small eyes were still fixed upon his. He sensed her suspicion, and her cunning.

“The body of a woman was found on the Neva this morning. She was wearing a dress made by Madame Renaud.” He paused. “A dress made for you.”

Her expression did not alter, but he saw her eyes flicker. “Who was she?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Ruzsky reached into his pocket for the photographs. He handed her one of the girl’s head and shoulders. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me.”

Vyrubova took it. She stared at it in silence. “How do you know the dress was mine?”

“Madame Renaud confirmed it.”

“How did you know it was one of her dresses?”

Ruzsky was about to explain, but thought better of it. “Do you recognize her?”

“Yes.” Vyrubova’s face was expressionless.

He waited.

“And?” Ruzsky was beginning to recover his wits enough to find the woman’s disdain irritating.

“Her name was Ella.”

They heard the front door being opened and shut and a voice in the hall. A few moments later, the Tsarina appeared, dressed in a black overcoat, gloves, and hat, a diamond brooch at her neck.

Ruzsky did not move. After a few moments, he realized that his mouth was open and he shut it. She was taller than he remembered, but there were deep lines around her eyes and her face was harsher, thinner, and more angular than he’d imagined.

For a moment, she stared at him.

The last time Ruzsky had set eyes upon her had been on the day of his arrest. He had been with his brother in the General Staff Building, overlooking a packed Palace Square as the Tsar and his wife came out onto the balcony of the Winter Palace to read a proclamation declaring the Russian Empire to be at war with Germany and Austro-Hungary.

Even now, Ruzsky could recall every detail of that crisp day: the giant crimson drape that hung almost to the ground; the Tsar dressed in the uniform of a colonel in the Preobrazhensky Regiment, his wife in white; the gigantic crowd falling to its knees and chanting the national anthem, “Bozhe, Tzaria Khrani,” over and over again, the Emperor raising his hand as he read the proclamation against the great din, his wife bowing.

The swell of emotion had touched even the most cynical hearts. And in the eyes of the young men in uniform around him, what Ruzsky had seen was nothing short of ecstasy.

Now most of those men were dead and the woman who ruled an empire stood before him, dressed in black.

His education failed him. He had no idea what he should say if she chose to address him.

“Who is this?” she demanded.

“He says he’s a chief investigator from Petrograd.”

The Empress snorted in derision, as if he weren’t there. “It’s not good for Alexei to be out in the cold so long.” She spoke Russian with a heavy German accent.

Vyrubova’s expression was instantly soothing. “He seems better today.”

“He’s no judge of his own well-being.”

“He wants to be out with the girls.”

“I know he does, but that doesn’t mean that it is good for him.”

The Empress of the Russias turned to him. “What is he doing here?”

Anna Vyrubova handed the Tsarina the photograph that was still in her hand. She studied it for a moment and then looked up again, her mouth taut. “I suppose you think it is our fault.”

Ruzsky did not know what to say.

“She was murdered,” Vyrubova explained. “It wasn’t-”

The Empress looked confused. “Murdered?”

It appeared to be a question for him. “Yes,” Ruzsky said, clearing his throat and bowing slightly. “It would appear so, Your…” Ruzsky wondered if he should have said “Your Imperial Highness,” but, as he considered the question, a hint of resentment at his mother’s own fawning approach to the imperial family acted as its own check. Their manner was damned rude.

“It would appear so? Surely you must know.”

“Yes… That is correct.”

“How was she murdered?”

Ruzsky glanced at Vyrubova to see whether he should continue to answer, but received no signal either way. “She was stabbed. Once. The man with her, seventeen times.” Ruzsky handed a photograph of the man’s head and shoulders to the Empress. She looked at it without expression and then passed it to her companion.

“How did you know she worked here?” the Empress asked.

Ruzsky looked at Vyrubova, but her face was impassive. “I didn’t,” he said.

Ruzsky thought he saw a slight flush developing in the Tsarina’s cheeks.

“Ella worked in the nursery,” Vyrubova explained. “And was very fond of the children.”

“She was a pretty girl,” the Empress said. “But unreliable.”

“She was very fond of the family,” Vyrubova went on, “and sad to go.”

They were silent. Their sudden garrulousness confused him. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Ruzsky said, “to go where?”

“She was dismissed,” the Empress said.

There was another long silence.

“Would it be impertinent…” Ruzsky kept his eyes on Vyrubova so as not to rile the Empress. “May I ask why?”

The Empress frowned, tilting her head to one side. “You may not.”

“I apologize, Your Highness.”

“She stole from us,” the Tsarina said suddenly. She sighed. “There was no choice but to dismiss her. It upset the children. She upset the children.”

“She was too close to them,” Vyrubova added. “To the Little One, to Sunbeam, especially.”

The Empress’s irritation with her colleague began to show again.

“She was sad to leave here?” Ruzsky asked.

“Devastated. Of course.” The Empress seemed suddenly to remember herself. “I did not expect anyone to be here,” she told Vyrubova. “Telephone me when you have dealt with this man.”

She walked out. They waited, watching her pass the window and the white fence around the garden.

Vyrubova did not look at him. There was an intimacy between them suddenly, as if he had witnessed a domestic scene normally kept away from prying eyes. She stared at her shoes, a rueful smile at the corner of her lips.

“What did this girl… Ella… steal?”

Vyrubova was evasive again. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what she took?”

“No.” She looked out of the window. The Empress was now some distance away. “No.”

“Some money?”

“No. I mean, yes. Money.”

“How much?”

She turned back, still not meeting his eye. “I don’t know.”

Ruzsky smiled encouragingly. “You seem to keep few secrets from each other.”

“Who?”

“You and the Empress.”

“That is not your business.”

“No. Of course. I just imagined she would have told you the cause of this girl’s sudden dismissal.”

“She rules the Empire during the Tsar’s absence at the front, commanding our great forces. She doesn’t have time to deal with the minutiae of the household. This girl was unimportant.”

“But the children were upset.”

“They will quickly recover. It is best to be removed from unsuitable influences.”

“How was she unsuitable, exactly?”

“Oh… I don’t know.” Ruzsky saw the impatience in Vyrubova’s expression, but did not understand why she was making such heavy weather of the lies she was telling. “You must ask the household staff.”