Read Definitely Maybe for Free Online

to wake up. And then the silence was shattered by the telephone.
    Malianov jumped. It seemed that Zykov did, too. The phone rang again. Leaning on his forearms, Malianov raised himself up and glanced questioningly at Zykov.
    “Yes. It’s probably for you.”
    Malianov climbed over to the bed and picked up the phone. It was Val Weingarten.
    “Hey, stargazer,” he said. “Why don’t you call, you pig?”
    “You know how it is … I was busy.”
    “Fooling around with the broad?”
    “No—what do you mean, ‘with the broad’?”
    “I wish my Svetlana would force her girlfriends on me!”
    “Y-yes …” He felt eyes on the back of his head. “Listen, Val, I’ll call you back later.”
    “What’s wrong over there?” Weingarten demanded anxiously.
    “Nothing. I’ll tell you later.”
    “Is it that broad?”
    “No.”
    “A man?”
    “Uh-hum.”
    Weingarten sighed into the phone.
    “Listen,” he said, lowering his voice. “I can come right over. Do you want me to?”
    “No! That’s all I need.”
    Weingarten sighed heavily.
    “Listen, does he have red hair?”
    Malianov glanced over involuntarily at Zykov. To hissurprise, Zykov wasn’t looking at him at all. He was reading Snegovoi’s book, his lips moving.
    “Of course not! What kind of nonsense is that? Look, I’ll call you later.”
    “Definitely call!” Val yelled. “As soon as he leaves, call me.”
    “All right,” Malianov said and hung up. Then he returned to his chair, mumbling excuses.
    “It’s all right,” Zykov said and put down the book. “You have wide-ranging interests, Dmitri.”
    “I can’t complain,” Malianov muttered. Damn, I wish I could get at least one look at that book. “Please,” he said placatingly, “let’s finish up, if it’s at all possible. It’s after one already.”
    “Naturally!” Zykov proclaimed helpfully. He glanced at his watch anxiously and pulled out a notebook from his folder. “All right, so last night you were at Snegovoi’s, correct?”
    “Yes.”
    “For this book?”
    “Y-yes,” Malianov said, deciding not to clarify anything.
    “When was this?”
    “Late, around midnight.”
    “Did you have the impression that Snegovoi was planning a trip?”
    “Yes, I did. I mean it wasn’t an impression. He told me that he was leaving in the morning and would bring me the keys.”
    “Did he?”
    “No. I mean, he might have rung the bell and I didn’t hear him. I was sleeping.”
    Zykov wrote quickly, leaning the pad on the folder that lay on his knee. He did not look at Malianov at all, even when he addressed the questions at him. In a rush, perhaps?
    “Did Snegovoi mention where he was going?”
    “No, he never told me where he went.”
    “But you guessed?”
    “Well, I think I had an idea. To a proving ground, or something like that.”
    “Did he tell you anything about it?”
    “No, of course not. We never spoke about his work.”
    “Then what do you base your guess on?”
    Malianov shrugged. What did he base it on? It’s impossible to explain things like that. It was clear that the man worked in a deep bunker, his face and hands were all burned, and he had a manner that corresponded to that kind of work … and the fact that he refused to discuss his work.
    “I don’t know. I just always thought so. I don’t know.”
    “Did he introduce you to any of his friends?”
    “No, never.”
    “His wife?”
    “Is he married? I always thought he was a bachelor or a widower.”
    “Why did you think so?”
    “I don’t know,” Malianov said angrily. “Intuition.”
    “Perhaps your wife told you so?”
    “Irina? How would she know?”
    “That’s what I would like to clear up.”
    They stared at each other in silence.
    “I don’t understand,” Malianov said. “What is it you want to clear up?”
    “How your wife knew that Snegovoi wasn’t married.”
    “Ah … she knew that?”
    Zykov did not reply. He was staring intently at Malianov and his pupils dilated