The Case of the NH Painting

A few months ago, I put a period at the end of the last word of the novella “Polonaise with a Sliver.” I wiped heavy drops of writer’s sweat from my forehead and took up the file of materials on little-known rulers of Russia—one I had prepared long ago. No more detectives, no chases, no investigative procedures. From that day on—only a journey deep into centuries: tsars, boyars, nobles, balls, and women’s мушки (riflelets).

But—no sooner said than done—my restless Margarina Krulevskaya appeared to me in my sleep on the very first night.
“—And Novocherkassk, and the murdered children of workers—did you think about them?”
“—But it’s almost our time, the era of the unforgettable Nikita Sergeevich. People who survived that tragedy are still alive. Let them tell,” I tried to object.
“—And the stolen paintings from the local museum. Who should tell you about them? In short, author—you’re the one who gave birth to me, that is, created me, so you should load the detective bureau named after me with work.

Dear reader, I know the character of this energetic lady well (I invented her myself)—she won’t just leave me alone. And reminding the youth of events from not-so-distant past is also not likely to be superfluous.

The folder with the biographies of rulers of the distant past returned to its place. And the close-knit team of “Krulevskaya & Partners Detective Bureau,” sleeves rolled up, set to work on yet another case. This time—about the picture of NH…