Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Moskovitz showed Levene the copies of the diary entries. Petr Shapirov clearly wrote the names of his wife and children and others in his diary and must have given it to his family for safekeeping. There was not mention of an expensive brooch. His two oldest sons Petr and Ivan were somewhat famous for their part in the army of peasant fighting for their freedoms in the uprisings after their father’s death. Levene ventured that they may have willed the diary to the synagogue after their mother’s death.

 “One of Ivan’s sons he remain in family home after death of parents. Other two move from area. No trace sons or girl, Daria Ivana. By 1820, we have new generation Jews who survive holocausts in Belarus. I learn patience, Mr. Levene. Several years later possible trace some Belarusian genealogy. I discover death Shapirov's daughter. She live to be old woman, maybe outliving all four brothers. Most perfect brooch belong Ivana-Daria, then passed on. Maybe occur in Belarus through secret sources. One-of-kind piece eventually maybe reach hands of Shapirov by 1711,maybe  later offered for sale or reclamation.  No trace of trail.”

“Isn’t It is possible he may have given or willed it to a family member before his death? If so, why haven’t we heard of it since?”

Moskovitz stopped and leaned back in the chair. His tired eyes looked intently upon the unfolding day. Was he seeing the end of his search and the decline of further discovery? Levene wanted to reach out and pat his head, as his own mother had done years before.

“Many things possible. You know, Mr. Levene, word “pogrom” is Russian word, means  attack and destruction - people, property,  way of life. We forced from our homes mid-dress, we tracked like animals, murdered, raped. We lose everything. During years Belarus, other places in Russia attacks only against Jews.”

Levene agreed. "My own people were likely part of that horror. I have been unable to trace them past the late 1800s, but I suspect they died in those purges, along with your family. Those pogroms changed the entire future for the Jews of the world, not only those in Russia. They left that country by mass exodus, for Poland, Lithuania, Israel, England, USA… throughout the world.”

Moskovitz agreed “We also lost to one another. Where is line our families? Who is our dead? Have we forgotten them or do we not know where to look? In Torah we learn: we God's Chosen People. Between you and me, Mr. Levene, maybe God forgets promise His “Chosen."

Levene nodded his head. They both shrugged and sat in silence like two old goats contemplating the fate of their people.

 "Mr. Levene, that brooch great importance. It belongs my family. I want commission to find it.”

Levene looked up in surprise. “What do you mean? It belongs to Anna Koltovskaya’s family, if it is found.” This was an unexpected turn. Levene’s business was involved with finding people, not brooches.

At this, Mr. Moskovitz stood up and walked around the small office, hands in pockets. He was very thoughtful and quiet. At the doors of the patio he gazed upon the traffic below and then turned to face Levene. His next words were a revelation.

“Mr. Levene, I have confession. True patrilineal name -  Mikael Koltovski. I am Anna’s Koltovskaya’s cousin, but removed many times."

At this sudden news, Levene’s teacup fell to the rug. “What? You’re related to Koltovskaya? “You’re a Romanov? You have not been honest with me, Moscovitz, Koltovski, Romanov, whoever you are!  I am not happy with your confession! If I am to help you with your search, it must be assumed there is an agreement of complete trust between us!”

“Please. I explain. This man who father of Anna with courtesan 1572, he my predecessor, also royal blood. Held important posts in the government Ivan’s time. Through years I trace line to self, thanks father’s knowledge our heritage. Am only living male relative Koltov family of Novgorod, where Anna born.”

Levene was shocked. He had not doubted that his new client was withholding such information. Moskovitz was crestfallen. He seemed about to cry, but held his ground.

“Am most sorry for delay in telling you story as man I become. Took name Moskovitz -  escape wrath of Ivan’s spies. They sign  blood pact - kill any relative of Anna’s who want fortune she owned as empress but never get. Shapirov knew our family but wrong to advertise brooch that belong my family. Few have money, power purchase, even protect emeralds and diamonds.  I am citizen of Russia, must remain great careful even this day.”

Levene, still at odds with the sudden confession, eventually agreed to take the case but gave strict conditions to be followed in pursuit of the jewel and produced a contract binding his visitor to its numerous and unavoidable clauses. Moskovitz, now Koltovski, dutifully signed each page as Koltovski.  

Levene, now feeling tricked somewhat into aiding this Russian with his genealogy, helped Koltovski grapple with the banana plant leaves on his way out and went in hot pursuit of his lunch.

                                         

On his return to his apartment from the deli, Levene still savored the huge chopped liver sandwich his belly was busy digesting. It gurgled happily as he traveled along the pavement and into his building. Mrs. Greenleaf was brewing one of her calf liver blood tonics which, she swore, would double overnight the number of red blood cells in the body of the drinker. She often drank the brew herself, her mouth dripping red juice as she did so. She didn’t seem the notice the occasional look of horror on the face of her tenants as they hastened past her to the elevator.

“Oh, detective there you are!  I have some tonic for your tummy!”

Levene punched the UP button with his finger fast as he could, accidentally hitting the 7 instead of the 9 as the door closed, separating himself from the bloody brew. He breathed a sigh of relief.