I do not enclose here the complete report and interrogation from the police investigation. It would be too lengthy, and I have forgotten many of the details. However, I will tell you briefly the crime, as I understand it.
Her clothing gave us plenty of evidence. Her upper cloak, made of velvet, with a silk lining underneath, was still completely soaked with fresh blood. The right side had a large hole made by the dagger and lots of clots of blood. The left side of the cloak was also covered with blood. The left sleeve was torn in two places—at the shoulder and at the cuff. Her belt and the pockets of her pants were bloodstained. Her handkerchief and her glove were turned into two small red rags. Her entire skirt was covered with blood spots of various sizes and colors.
The personal belongings of Olga—her big gold and diamond brooch and a massive golden chain—were intact. It was clear that the killer did not do it with the motive of robbing her.
The doctors concluded that she died from a severe hemorrhage and, as a consequence, a considerable loss of blood. It was a complete shock for the doctors that she had not died immediately at the crime scene. However, I digress, and I do not want to postpone the picture of the murder as I saw it, which I will present to you, the reader.
Olga separated from the hunting party while they were having a picnic, and headed off for a walk in the forest. Lost in her thoughts, she ventured deep into the thick forest. There, she met her murderer. While she stood pondering under a tree, the man came to her and began the conversation. She was familiar with this person and was not suspicious of him; otherwise, she would have cried for help. After they had spoken for a while, the killer snatched her by her left arm so hard that he tore her upper clothes and left four of his fingerprints on her upper arm. It was most likely then that she made that terrifying cry from pain, the one that everyone had heard when she realized his intent.
To prevent her from further shouts for help, possibly in a fit of anger, he seized her by her collar, the evidence of which is supported by the two torn upper buttons on her upper dress and the red line across her neck. The killer pulled at the golden chain around her neck, which tightened and made another thin line. After this, the killer dealt a strong blow to her head with a blunt object, probably with a stick or the handle of the dagger that Olga always had on her belt. In his rage, he decided that this one wound was not enough, and so he pulled her dagger from its sheath and stabbed her in her side with a very fierce blow—I say fierce, since the dagger was so blunt.
It was evident that Olga did not name the killer because she knew him and because somehow he was still precious enough to her to make her want to save him from his punishment.
Among such people were her insane father, the husband she did not love but felt guilty about, and the count that she felt obliged to for his financial support. Her father, as the servants later witnessed, was at home writing a letter to the police to punish the imaginary thieves that were surrounding his house. The Count, before and during the time of murder, was with the hunting party; which left only one person—Mr. Urbenin. His sudden appearance from the forest and his strange behavior supported this theory.
If that were not enough, it appeared that Olga’s life had become a complete romance novel that included a loving old husband, jealousy, beating, escape to her rich count/lover. If the beautiful protagonist of such a novel is killed, then you should not be looking for thieves, but rather study the principal characters of the novel.
Thus, Mr. Urbenin, the husband, was the main suspect from any point of view.
I had to begin the interrogation.
[Translator’s Note: A lengthy interrogation of Urbenin and further investigation were complicated by the murder of a farmer who was the key witness and who was killed in his prison cell. Mr. Urbenin, whose cell was in the same hall, is accused in the second murder. The investigation becomes a well-known case across the country. The detective is forced to retire after a fight with one of the minor witnesses.]
I performed the preliminary investigation in the living room of Urbenin’s house, where I once sat on the couch courting the local ladies. Urbenin was the first person whom I interrogated. They brought him to me from the Olga’s room, where he had remained, sitting and staring at the empty bed
For a minute or so, he stood before me in silence, but then he understood that I meant to speak to him in my official capacity as a police detective, and he finally broke the silence and said rather tiredly,
“Please, Sergei Petrovich, could you interrogate other witnesses first. I cannot talk now.”
At that moment, he still considered himself to be a witness, or at least he thought that we considered him a witness.
“No, I have to interrogate you at once,” I said. “Can you please sit down.”
He testified that he was Peter Egorovich Urbenin, fifty years old, and that he was the formerly the manager of the Count’s estate. When he spoke about his marriage with the nineteen-year-old Olga, he said that he loved her madly, and that he knew that she had married him without love, and that he had decided to be satisfied with her friendship and loyalty.
When he mentioned his disappointment in life and his gray hair, he stopped, and then asked not to talk about this aspect of things for the moment.
“I can’t. It is too hard for me now. You know.”
“All right, let us leave this for later. Tell me, it is true that you used to hit your wife? They say that you beat her when you found a note from the Count.”
“This is not true. I just took her by her hand, and then at once she burst out crying.”
“Did you know about her relationship with the Count?”
“I have asked you to postpone this conversation. And why should we talk about this at all?”
“All right, let us talk about this the next time. Now, can you explain to me how you found yourself in the forest where Olga was killed? You said that you were in the city. How did you wind up in the forest?”
“Yes, I had been staying with my sister in the city since I’d lost my position. I was keeping myself busy by seeking another position, and I was drinking, upset by my misfortune. That last week I was drinking nonstop, and I do not remember anything. I was lost.”
“You were going to tell me how you ended up in the forest.”
“Yes, I woke up late. It was a sunny day, and I decided to go and see her, maybe for the last time. I was going to the Count’s place. I wanted to return the hundred rubles that he had loaned to me. I went through the forest, which I knew so well.”
“So, you did not expect to meet your wife there?”
Urbenin looked at me with surprise, thought for a little while, and answered,
“Sorry, but this is a strange question. You cannot foretell your meeting with a wolf in the forest, and meeting a terrible misfortune, this is even more unpredictable. Look at this terrible case. I was crossing the aspen forest, and suddenly I heard that strange cry. It was so sharp that it seemed to hit me right in the ear.”
His mouth was deformed by a grimace, and his chin trembled. He blinked his eyes and began to cry.
“I ran in the direction of the cry and I saw—I saw Olga lying on the grass. Her hair and forehead were covered with blood, and her face looked terrible. I cried, called her by her name. She did not move. I kissed her, lifted her in my hands.”
Urbenin stopped and mopped the tears from his face with his sleeve. In a minute he continued.
“I did not see the scoundrel. When I ran to her, I heard someone’s distant steps. Probably, he was running away.”
“This story of yours is wonderfully invented whole,” I said, “but you know—the police detectives do not believe in the sort of coincidence that would bring you by chance to the scene of the murder that coincided with your random walk in the forest.”