Sibley's Secret

by Frank Perry

under the bed. Did I put the caps back on? He kicked a chair leg with his bare foot moving toward the door, sending a shockwave up his leg. A small tear formed as he stumbled toward the door. “Ah, Karina, I’m kind of a mess.”

  “I don’t care, Evan. Let me in.” It wasn’t a request. She always seemed to be in command.

  His mind raced as he unlocked the door and opened it dressed in old jeans and shirtless. He half tried to hide behind the door. She was sparkling as usual in another perfectly fitting smooth grey dress suit with white blouse. He just stared, not opening the door fully. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” She asked.

  He looked at her through red eyes, “I, ah, I, sure.” The door swung open and he almost fell backward opening it.

  “Have you been drinking?” She asked the obvious rhetorical question.

  “Just a little.” He made a small gesture with his thumb and index finger, knowing how foolish it was, swaying.

  She walked past him into his disheveled room. Looking around, she said, “Nice.” She wasn’t convincing.

  “Karina, I, ah, didn’t want you to see this place. That came out wrong. I’m delighted that you’re here. I just, well, it’s kind of a mess, and tiny.”

  She smiled, sensing his embarrassment. “It is all right, Evan. I have lived in Moscow all my life and this is not the worst apartment I have seen. You are here from your big American university position and have chosen to save money. I understand this. This is not the way you would live in the United States.”

  He offered her a chair. “Okay, but allow me to feel a little off guard. I didn’t rent this place ever expecting to have a beautiful friend here.”

  She demurred, “You think I am beautiful?”

  “I ... yes, unquestionably. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  “Good, then you will feel comfortable taking me to dinner.”

  He wasn’t sure he understood. “Now? Tonight?”

  “Yes, silly man. When do you think I mean.”

  He was sobering up fast, “Just a minute, I’ll change.” He rushed to the small closet and pulled out his slacks and dress shirt. “I, ah, you’ll have to turn your back.”

  She smiled and turned as he stumbled around, trying to get his pants changed.

  Later, down in the piazza, Evan breathed the night air in deep gulps, determined to sober up.

  Karina recognized his exertion, “You know, Evan, many Russian men are drunk almost every night. You are an amateur.”

  He was finally beginning to loosen up, “Yeah, but I’m a cheap drunk. A couple drinks and wham-o, I’m out.”

  “You don’t drink much normally? Why are you drinking tonight?”

  He really didn’t want to tell the truth. “I don’t know, I just relaxed today and felt like having a drink. It got out of control.”

  Without discussing options, they walked into the closest café with outdoor seating, both sensing that Evan would do better in the night air.

  After seating themselves, they enjoyed listening to the single troubadour playing a rhythm guitar and singing a mellow Russian folk song. He finally said, “I missed you today.”

  She looked at him, “One day I am not there, and I am missed?”

  “Well, yeah. I thought we were part of a team. I was lonely today.” Honesty seemed to be the best policy.

  “Evan, we cannot work together all the time.”

  He was worried. Does she have a boyfriend, a fiancée, a significant other? It really wasn’t his business, but he was feeling jealous. She went on, “I have a job, and you have a job. That is all.”

  “Yeah, but I thought we were after the same thing and would help each other.”

  “Is that really what you think?” She was looking at him.

  Oh, God, it isn’t really what I think. “Okay, I’ll level with you. You intrigue me as a person. There, I’ve said it. I didn’t expect to meet someone like you, but it happened. I don’t know how to explain it, we barely know each other, but I missed you today.”

  She looked at him without saying anything for several seconds. “I had a meeting with my client, then I called an associate of mine in France to see if she could find anything about Sonya Kolchak. She said she would try.”

  He felt even more stupid. “Thanks, I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I have no right.”

  She smiled. “Good. You have no rights with me, which is exactly right, but I choose to be your confederate. Is that the right word?”

  “I think you mean confidante, Karina. You can be anything you want as long as we can keep working together.”

  “Do you respect me as a researcher?”

  “Yes, you’re the best researcher I’ve ever met, including me. It’s just ... well, I’m distracted. I might want to be more than a confidante, but I don’t want you to be scared away either.”

  “You do not scare me, Evan.”

  Relationship

  As summer turned to early fall, Evan and Karina developed a professional relationship. His attraction to her was constant, maybe even more intense; he was totally transparent, but she maintained her veneer, never professing any personal attraction toward him. It wasn’t what Evan wanted, but it was enough as long as he could be with her most days. He often fantasized about making love to the Russian beauty, but he accepted their relationship for what it was, which was something he could not define. They spent occasional evenings together and she had even taken him on walking tours twice on weekends. He learned that she lived with her mother, not far from him, although more upscale. Their relationship grew steadily, but remained platonic. They divided the research logically, but she insisted that her client’s interest would remain confidential. Evan was satisfied. His original purpose for research had morphed into searching for clues to Kolchak’s gold. It wasn’t professional of him, nor would it yield much material for furthering knowledge of Russian history, but he was thinking of writing a novel when he returned to America at the end of January.

  It didn’t matter anymore that he had allowed himself to be distracted in his assignment. Being near Karina had become an obsession which he didn’t resist. He did wonder what it would be like if her assignment ended abruptly or when he had to return home. That eventuality was coming closer each day. At first, he ignored it, but with only a couple months to go, what would he do?” What would Karina do?

  “What are you thinking about?” She looked away from her laptop for a moment.

  “I was just thinking.” The tone of their conversation had become more familiar over the summer.

  She closed her notebook. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess it was how much I like being around you.”

  “Evan, we agreed not to be personal in our relationship.”

  “Karina, how can it not be personal? I’m around you every day for months and I’m not supposed to be personal?”

  “I am not the first person you have been working with for many months.”

  “No, you’re not, but I told you near the beginning, I was very honest, that I was attracted to you. So, allow me to get melancholy once in a while when we get near the end of my time here.

  “What is melancholy? What does it mean?”

  “It’s a kind of sadness that something will end, or won’t be the same.”

  She smiled. “Maybe I have felt melancholy also.”

  He looked at her pensively, not sure what to say next. “Karina, we should talk about it.”

  Suddenly, she sat erect. “Not today. Today we work and not think about anything else.”

  He looked back at his computer, mouth slightly agape. She had this ability to throw water on embers. Every time he had tried to connect with her on a personal level, it turned out the same. She seemed curious, but not interested in the final analysis. How did she do it? It frustrated him that, after months together, she would always thrust her shield up
whenever he got too close. Maybe that was always going to be the answer, maybe she would never like him as a person. Oh my God, is she gay? She’d never given him any indication, but what if she were? He knew lots of gay people, lots of gay women, but there was always some signal, some subtle way he knew. She hadn’t ever given him a signal, but maybe that was it. Maybe gay Russian women act different than Americans. European women hold hands and kiss each other on the cheek all the time. They’re not gay. He wasn’t sure what to think.

  He went back to reading something new from his latest Google search. He was looking on Amazon.com at a new book review. “Karina. There is a new book called the Admiral’s Mistress. A woman author in America who writes love stories just wrote a fictional book based on Anna Timiryova.”

  She looked at him. “That is not something new; there have been hundreds of such books.”

  “I don’t know. Let me read the review to you.” He started to read a review that gave some insight, then went to the description of the author. He continued, “It says the book is a work of fiction but was written after she’d read through Anna’s papers and letters that she purchased. The story is centered on the last days of Admiral Kolchak’s life and desperate attempt to flee, and her attempt to be imprisoned with him. Doesn’t that sound like a clue?”

  Satisfaction

  The crisp morning air felt good. It was cold enough to be refreshing as her respiration and pulse increased, running along the park trail in the thin Denver air. Jackie Dickson was feeling invigorated. She’d made the right decision.