Darya Dontsova
Iron Lover's Nightmare
For a horseshoe to bring you good luck, nail it to your foot and plow like a horse from sunrise to sunset.
I moved away from the desk, approached the window and pressed my forehead against the cold glass. It’s the end of December, the sun is setting very early, all the horses have already settled comfortably in their stables, eaten and sleep peacefully, and I ... turning around and inhaling sadly, fixed a sad look on the tabletop, where a silent reproach to me, the author, lay an unfinished manuscript. Although the word "unfinished" in this case is inappropriate, because the new book, to be honest, is not written at all. That is, it was not written at all, it was practically not even started. I scribbled three words on the first sheet: "Tanya Zlotnikova was ..." - and that's it. Who is this Tanya? Who will she be in my new detective story? Is Ms. Zlotnikova needed in the plot? And in general, what plot will the unborn detective novel have? Oh, why did Kostya leave and leave me alone on the eve of the New Year?
The last question, however, has nothing to do with creative activity, and there is a clear answer to it: my lover Kostya is a respectful and caring son. The fact is that his mother, Allochka, is an adherent of a healthy lifestyle, so every year on the twentieth of December, Kostya takes her to a tiny Swiss village, where he bought a small house, and they spend almost a month in the bosom of nature. Alla assures that the holidays in the Alps charge her with health for the next twelve months, but only if she goes there with her sons. And if for some reason Kostya cannot keep her company, she will certainly fall ill and die in agony. The tradition is to visit Switzerland and celebrate there first Catholic Christmas, then the New Year, then the reappearance of the baby Jesus, but according to the Russian Orthodox Church, and finally end the protracted holidays with the song “Santa Claus is coming to us, he brings gifts to everyone” on the night of the twelfth to the thirteenth of January, was born in the Fokin family long ago, when Kostya had not even heard of me. Of course, no one is going to break established habits for me.
Just don’t think that Allochka belongs to the biological species “the mother-in-law is simple, vicious” and regularly repeats to her son: “Wives come and go, but the mother is one for life. I accomplished a feat - I gave birth to you. What did the other woman do?
No, Alla is quite a nice, even delicate person, but I am not Kostya's legal wife, he did not take me to the registry office. Therefore, he is not at all obliged to think about my psychological comfort and wonder where and with whom the writer Arina Violova will have to drink champagne on the thirty-first of December.
Why didn't Kostya invite me to the shores of Lake Geneva? Don't you understand? She and her mother always fly to the village of Bua exclusively together, they don’t even take their twin brother Kostya with them. Although, to be completely honest, Allochka loves exclusively the eldest boy. However, the one who issued his first cry ten minutes after him also gets attention and care, but she loves only Konstantin.
I shook my head and ordered myself: Vilka, wake up, stop thinking about other people's family habits and problems. If something cannot be changed, it must be taken for granted. The main thing is not to get upset in any case. A bottomless abyss suddenly appeared on your way and you want to sob from despair? But the bridge will not be built from tears! It is better to try to build it or look for a workaround, and then you will roar when you successfully overcome the obstacle. Problems must be solved, not drowned in their own tears.
So, dear, go make yourself coffee, tea, cocoa, I don’t know what else, wash your face and start writing a book. In addition, meeting the New Year alone is not a bad thing at all. If you think about it, you will see some pluses: you don’t have to spend money on styling and makeup, on a new dress, shoes and gifts for those with whom you sit at the festive table; no need to cut a salad, listen to long stupid toasts, stare at the TV, where on all channels the same faces that have been boring for a long time will flash. No, this time I'll lie down on the couch in a cozy bathrobe, put on a romantic comedy, take macaroons with me and treat myself to blackcurrant liqueur. But no one will shout over the ear: “Fork! How can you drink this sticky stuff? Come on, take a sip of champagne! Come on, come on, to the bottom, for good luck!
I can't stand champagne. Any - expensive, cheap, Russian, imported, brut or sweet. I have heartburn and hiccups from it until the morning.
In short, the New Year alone is a wonderful thing! I will be the best! I always dreamed of spending the night on the first of January in solitude!
Masha cleared her throat and yelled:
Azamat disappeared behind the door, instead of him a girl in checkered green-red trousers jumped out of the office.
“Elena is studying to be a counseling psychologist,” Maria solemnly declared, “she will select the right one for you. And I'll be right back.
The saleswoman slid behind the door. Elena rested her hands on the counter.
- How old is your mother-in-law?
Michael considered.
“Seventy, I don’t remember exactly.
“When it’s over sixty, it doesn’t matter how much exactly,” Lena giggled. - What is she interested in?
The buyer is tense.
- He watches telly, loves to eat, he also reads Jaundice.
- Set of dishes! the girl suggested.
“No, there are plenty of plates in the house,” he muttered.
“No need,” Mikhail interrupted, “I want something else. So that for every day and fun, with humor. But serious and useful. And inexpensive.
- Lenka, where did you put the seats for pushing? Masha yelled from the back room.
- Exactly! the psychologist-consultant jumped up. - It's more like your own, it will suit you. Second! I'm already running, I'm here and there!
Elena dived through the door and immediately jumped back, holding a toilet ring in her hands.
“Your mother-in-law is a girl, so I brought a pink one,” the girl said frequently. - Now, if they took the father-in-law, then blue. Look what a thing! Needed every day! It costs two hundred fifty-seven rubles. But you have a discount, get it for two hundred and fifty-three and forty-eight kopecks. Shawarma is cheaper.
- Well ... the thing, of course, is useful, but ... boring, - Mikhail pronounced the verdict. - Ordinary, not New Year's.
- Oh, you didn’t see the main joke! Elena hesitated. - Here, attention! Silence!
Lena put the seat on a stool and sat on top. A squeaky voice with a frankly Ukrainian accent flew through the shop: “Happy abyss to you! Happy idle to yu! Happy mediocre tu girl, happy mediocrity tu yu.
- Did you hear? exclaimed the counseling psychologist. - There's a music chip. Do you know English?
“No,” Mikhail and the aunt in pink answered in unison.
- I'm translating! Elena announced solemnly. “I wish happiness to everyone always, forward for many years.” Great text! Your mother-in-law will go to the toilet in the morning and get a positive charge.
- I take it! - the buyer was delighted. Just pack it up for the holidays. In colored paper and with a bow.
I walked sideways to the front door. No, I can't find anything suitable in this shop. Although, maybe give Anatole a lid that inspiringly congratulates the visitor to the toilet on his birthday in the English-Ukrainian surzhik? It would be interesting to see the reaction of the director!
My cell phone came to life in my pocket, and I quickly rushed out of the store, pulling out the phone as I went.
- Where are you? Forgetting to say hello, asked Tonya.
- At the market, trying to find gifts, - I answered and suddenly got scared, - what happened?
“Please, return to Anatole’s apartment as soon as possible,” the friend asked. - Seva died, the body was found on the street.
- God! I whispered. I'm on my way, I'll be there in ten minutes.
Stuffing the phone into my bag, I rushed to the main entrance, passed a couple of tents with clothes, turned right, expecting to see a large gate through which I went to the flea market, and froze in place. Ahead, instead of a fence, stood a squat gray building with a sign that read "Second Hand for All Occasions."
For several minutes I ran along the narrow lanes, along which stood the same type of shops stuffed with cheap clothes, then I guessed to turn to a Vietnamese woman in a quilted coat.
- Do you want to go to the square? she chirped in a thick accent. - Walk left, left, straight ahead.
I went in the indicated direction, again it is not clear how I ended up at the same second-hand store, turned around, hurried to the right and realized that I couldn’t get out of here without an escort. I'm standing in a passage as narrow as a hole, on one side something like a barn looms, on the other a row of garbage cans stretches.
“Don’t be nervous, dear,” a woman’s voice suddenly rang out, “good times will certainly come.” Your talent will be appreciated.
“You comfort me like a little one,” answered the pleasant baritone, “I am tired.
“Hold on, my dear. Remember, luck comes to the patient. And she will definitely come to us! the interlocutor promised.
I realized that the sounds were coming from a wooden shed, went up to him and looked into the gap between the boards. It immediately became clear that the flimsy structure is actually a warehouse littered with bales, and in a small free space there is a decrepit sofa on which, embracing and clinging to each other, a couple in love sits. I didn't recognize them at first because they both lowered their heads and hunched over. But then they straightened up, and I shuddered. Agatha! And her friend turned out to be Azamat, a painter from a souvenir shop.
“It’s time to go to work, otherwise Masha will devour me,” he said gloomily.
- Did you eat? Agatha asked worriedly.
“Yes,” the young man nodded.
- Do not lie! Agatha shook her finger at him. - Here, take it, buy Ali's shawarma.
“I’ll earn it myself,” Azamat pushed her hand away, “I’m a man.”
Agatha gently stroked his head and kissed his cheek.
- Certainly. But now take my help. You can't starve, it's winter outside, you'll get sick!
The artist said nothing, but Agatha continued:
- Your mother told you stories about the hero Daut ...
- And what? Azamat jumped up. - What is he here for?
“Do you remember what the smart old woman said to Daut? Agatha asked patiently. - If you want to defeat the enemy, become stronger and better than him. Do not give your plov to your wife and children. Now you feed them, you yourself will weaken, and when the enemy comes, you will not be able to fight him. It is better to eat rice with meat yourself, then you will bravely protect your family.
Azamat smiled wryly.
- So far, I don’t really look like Daut.
Agatha kissed the painter on the cheek again.
“Nothing, we will have everything.
“If only he were dead,” Azamat interrupted. Everything lives and lives...
- Don't get depressed! exclaimed Agatha. – Soon we will begin a happy life, think better about it. I love you honey.
“And I love you,” Azamat muttered. - But the forces are almost gone. I'm tired. I'm sorry, I can't take it anymore. Tired of hiding, meeting with you secretly, in fits and starts. I want to live together, in a big house with a garden and...
Agatha grabbed the boy's hand.
- Okay, listen. That's all! Understand? Everything is finished! We now have money! We won! Let's get everything! It is not long to wait, until the beginning of summer, and then our wishes will come true. Everything we dreamed of together! Look, it just happened. I got a call a minute ago and was told...
Azamat opened his mouth, and Agatha quickly began to whisper something in his ear. As she spoke, Azamat's eyes narrowed more and more.
– Really? the guy gasped. - He died? It's true?
“Yes,” Agatha nodded, “now the devils in hell are rejoicing, having got his black soul. But we need to be careful, his death should not be associated with our names. We will wait six months. And then…
Agatha's phone beeped and she glanced at the screen.
- It's time for me to run. And you go to Masha and do not lose heart. Soon there will be no need to hide, we will openly walk with you hand in hand through the streets. Believe me.
- Your words to Allah in the ears ... - whispered Azamat. I am proud and admire you!
Agatha pulled the young man by the hand.
Our love will break through the walls and conquer everything. Went.
The couple disappeared behind the bales, I moved away from the plank wall. Agatha has a lover! The secret of Seva's family happiness is simple: he cheated on his wife, and she ran to the left of her husband, and everyone was happy. Well, it's none of my business. You need to think not about other people's relationships, but about how to get out of the market. I'll try to go back to Masha's shop, I hope I can find a shop. Judging by the fact that there is no one around, I wandered not into the trading part of the bazaar, but to where the warehouses are, there are few people here. There was a creak behind me and I turned around. A figure wrapped in numerous handkerchiefs was pushing a cart loaded with dark brown cardboard boxes.
- Excuse me, how do I get to the exit? I rejoiced.
A hand reached out from a pile of rags and pointed to a sheet of plywood nailed to a brick wall.
I went up to the fence, easily moved the piece of wood, climbed into the gap that had formed, and - oh joy! - I saw an iron gate in the distance ...
Antonina met me in the hallway. I inhaled the pungent smell of valocordin and shuddered:
– Is Anatole ill? Although this is an idiotic question! What happened to Vsevolod? Did he get hit by a car?
Tonya silently waited until I took off my boots and jacket, then, putting her finger to her lips, she quickly led me down the corridor to a tiny bedroom, where there was a bed, a bedside table and a miniature, almost doll-like chair made of furniture. On the bed sat a man dressed in a cheap suit and a gray turtleneck.
“Meet me,” Antonina finally spoke up. - Viola Tarakanova, she ...
“Under the pseudonym Arina Violova writes detective novels,” the stranger interrupted her. - Good afternoon, I saw you on TV. Probably, it should be said: “I am glad to have a personal meeting with a famous writer,” but in this situation this phrase is inappropriate. I'm investigator Grigory Ponomarev.
I plopped down on the bed.
- Who? For what?
“Excellent questions,” Gregory sighed, “but there are no answers to them. And there were a lot of problems. Anatole can't stand me. Ophelia and Penelope will be afraid to open their mouths, because their brother will forbid them to tell anything. Ivan and Lida idolize the director, one cannot get a word about last night out of them. Galina and Ekaterina Fyodorovna will also get water in their mouths, Petya should not be taken into account, he is always silent. There are three reasonable people left: Tonya, you and Agatha. But the latter suddenly became a widow and is hardly ready for a constructive conversation. Do you remember well when Seva left home? Where did he go?
- You should definitely talk to Valentina, - I prompted, - this is the best friend of the wife of the deceased.
- Mikheeva, - Grigory nodded, - she is now in Moscow, at the session. I call her, but the phone is switched off.
“They stole Valya’s bag,” I explained. - You know, there was such a strange story ...
“I have already told how Seva lied that he went to meet Valya,” Tonya interrupted me.
“You couldn’t think of anything stupider,” Ponomarev chuckled. - It is surprising that Vsevolod did not think: "Now I will lie about Valya's request, and she will meet with Agatha and the truth will turn out, because Mikheeva never called me."
“The girl said that during the sessions she doesn’t communicate with Agatha at all,” I remembered, “the owner of the store does not want to interfere with her friend to cram tickets.
“All the same, Seva came up with a stupid reason to escape from the house,” the investigator rested.
Tonechka decided to repeat the version we invented yesterday.
- It seems that another passion suddenly rang out to him, he was confused and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. You can ask the mobile operator for a list of those who contacted Seva in the evening?
“Of course,” Gregory nodded.
“You’ll immediately see the subscriber’s number,” Antonina was delighted. - You go to the lady and ask: “Darling, you called Vsevolod yesterday. What did you want?
What happened to Seva? I asked belatedly. Was he really killed? Maybe it was an accident after all?
Ponomarev took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and began to twirl it thoughtfully between his fingers.
I don't have the autopsy results yet. But a knife wound on the back, just below the left shoulder blade, makes one think of a violent death. The body was found in Solnechny Lane, not far from the theater, in the morning, around eight. Several porters walked from the bus to the market and stumbled upon a corpse. Nobody hid him, Vsevolod was lying right on the sidewalk. By the amount of blood, one can make an assumption that Avdeev Jr. was killed right there, in a sparsely populated lane, along which no one walks at all after nine in the evening. Why did Seva go there?
- And you check the house, which is located behind the intersection, - Tonya advised. - I'm sure that another woman of the Iron Lover lives in it, he went to her.
“Jealous husband…” drawled Grigory.
“Or a simple robbery,” I put forward another version. - Nearby is a market full of different people.
The investigator opened a pack of cigarettes and began sniffing.
- Not. On the hand of the deceased there was a watch and a signet, it seems, gold. There is a mobile phone in his pocket, a chain with a large cross around his neck, it, like the ring, is also probably made of precious metal.
“I heard that there is a maniac operating in your city who attacks only men,” I remembered.
Grigory took a cigarette out of the pack and began to knead it.
- Speak up! Tony ordered. “I see something on your tongue.
Ponomarev sighed heavily.
- I'm trying to quit smoking, the doctor ordered me to forget about pampering.
But Antonina did not let her former classmate change the subject of the conversation:
Is there really a serial killer operating in Kovalev? Yes or no?
- Well ... it seems that this is a guest performer, played tricks with us and left, - he reluctantly answered.
- Could come back! I exclaimed. - Probably, you know about a certain Spiridonov, he at one time terrorized a small town in the Moscow region? The criminal rolled there once a month, killed someone and went home. He was caught for several years.
“No, the maniac has nothing to do with it,” Grisha answered firmly, “he did not touch Seva.
Ponomarev grimaced.
“The newspapers wrote about it. Today, when everyone has mobile phones and iPads, it is difficult to keep the results of the investigation. Surely someone will film the crime scene and post it on YouTube. Or "Ambulance" will try. Now doctors have given up on such a thing as medical secrecy. Although not everything is sold for money. Look, people from Moscow come to Ivan from Moscow in toned cars, but no matter how many journalists of all stripes pester him, he keeps his mouth shut. And Ekaterina Fedorovna flint. I somehow tried to roll up to her, I needed to find out something about one bastard. “You see,” he said to her, “this is a scoundrel, on whose conscience there are many crimes. I don’t want anything special, just give me a hint, did N come to Ivan Leonidovich on Monday?” You know, I used to think that only the Moscow authorities could glare so hard that their legs went numb, but it turned out that Ekaterina Fedorovna was also capable of this. She doused me like water and strained: “The visit of the patient to the doctor is not negotiable. Would you like to know who visits a psychotherapist? Carry a warrant from the prosecutor. Dot".
Tonya took my hand and explained.
- Ekaterina Fedorovna, Galya's mother-in-law and Petya's grandmother, works as a secretary for Ivan Leonidovich. She is a very honest and responsible person. Grisha, don't divert the conversation, tell me why Seva's death is not associated with a maniac?
Grigory sniffed the cigarette pack again with pleasure.
- Listen, eat your cigarettes already and calm down! - Tonechka got angry.
“Buy an electronic cigarette,” I thought of the newfangled thing. - Many of my friends with her help forgot about the addiction.
- Expensive, - Grisha reluctantly admitted, - entertainment is not on my salary. I also heard about needles, even made an appointment with a specialist, but ... one thing to go to scrap.
Antonina came close to him.
- Be specific! Don't pull!
- I can go with you to an appointment with a reflexologist, - I suggested, - I will support you morally.
- Yes? Thanks! - Ponomarev was delighted.
- Why do you think that the maniac has nothing to do with it? Tony insisted. “Because his victims are guest workers?”
“All the bulldogs of the world will envy you,” Grigory groaned, “you grabbed it and didn’t let go. OK. Newspapers, as usual, got it all wrong. Only one dead resident of Moldova, two others from the capital. The first one arrived for shopping, stayed until the market closed, went to a Vietnamese restaurant, left the establishment after midnight, and was never seen again. The second guy brought his girlfriend to Kovalev. They went to the cinema, and the girl has strict parents, she is told to be at home at twenty-three hours, and not a minute later. The lovers kissed at the entrance, the young man had to ride back to Moscow on a motorcycle. But he was killed. Outwardly, the victims are similar - short in stature, by no means a heroic physique, dark-haired, brown-eyed. And all of them were raped in a perverted form using a foreign object, the same in all cases, which our expert could not determine. Stick? Umbrella? One handwriting. We have not made this detail public for ethical reasons. Only information about a stab wound in the back, just below the shoulder blade, went to the press. And the fact that the serial worker laid the bodies in a certain way - face down, arms extended forward, head turned to the left, documents of the victim under the cheek, a wallet next to it, and on the wrist, where the watch is, the sleeve was pulled up almost to the elbow. The killer obviously wanted to say by this that he was not a gopnik, he had their good unnecessarily. In the case of Vsevolod, there was no violence. Everything else was present - the pose, the wallet, the sleeve. And Seva looks like a victim.
Gregory didn't argue.
- Looks like it. And now we need to understand whether it was the son of Anatole who was hunted or whether he accidentally caught the criminal. Wait a minute, now...
Ponomarev took a beeping phone out of his pocket.
- Listen, speak ... Are you sure? Yeah. Oh, thanks…
– Did something else happen? - Tonya started up when Grigory put away the pipe and again grabbed the cigarette pack, starting to sniff it.
“Even before talking with you, I ordered to check incoming and outgoing calls on Seva’s number,” the investigator muttered. “Well, the last time they called him was at twenty-three seventeen. In general, this subscriber connected to Vsevolod seven times yesterday, ten the day before yesterday. And I've called at least before.
- Yeah, found a mistress! Tonya rejoiced. - You need to shake this woman, find out if she has a jealous husband, brother, father.
I glanced at the investigator. It is strange that he still obediently listens to Antonina, never once bucked, did not say: “Thank you for your valuable advice, but I am a professional and I myself know how to work on a case.”
- No, - Grisha calmly objected, - she is lonely, without a family. Yes, you know her very well.
- Say the name! Tony demanded.
- Valentina Mikheeva.
– Agatha's best friend? my cousin jumped up.
“They stole Valya’s bag,” I reminded him.
- That's what she said! Tonya got angry. - Wow, but Agatka treats Mikheeva so well ... She always gives her clothes for free, helps in everything ... And Valentina repaid her friend in full.
“Strange situation,” I interrupted. - Why should Mikheeva resort to Anatole's house if she planned a date with Seva? And the Iron Lover could have come up with another reason for the absence. But he said that Valya asked to be escorted from the minibus to the apartment. It's kind of stupid.
- Can you think of another reason? repeated Tonechka. - Which? Sevka is not a doctor, not a policeman, not a secretary to an extremely busy businessman, not a journalist, but a local composer. They cannot call him to the service urgently, and shortly before midnight.
I raised my hand.
- Hush, don't get excited. I agree, there are a lot of oddities in this situation. For example, this: why call a lover late at night for a meeting? It seems that the desire to communicate with Vsevolod came to Mikheeva spontaneously, otherwise they would have agreed in advance, and he would have invented a good reason to run away from home. And it is not at all clear why Valya ran to Agatha. What is the point of her action? Mikheeva started an affair with Seva and, of course, did not say anything to her friend about her relationship with her husband. Something happened last night that forced Valentina to urgently call Seva. It was probably something very important, since the girl disturbed her lover late in the evening. Yes, even on the day when Anatole planned a skit rehearsal. And that's what's interesting! Vsevolod, a man not particularly caring and gentle with his women, did not send Valya to a known address, but hurried to her. The Iron Lover seemed to be extremely excited, since he blurted out the first thing that came to mind in order to run away from home. I think Seva was thoroughly scared. The question is what?
Tonya lifted her chin.
- And they were well encrypted! It never occurred to anyone to count Seva and Valka as a couple. Previously, our superman did not hide, openly started a new romance, and said to his old passion: “Pokedova, mon amour.” He lived well with Agatha, never quarreled with her, even brought tea, compliments. I already believed that a black dog could still be washed white. The error came out. Here's a kick for Agatha! In one fell swoop, she lost both her husband and her best friend. Maybe her legacy will console?
– Is Seva rich? I doubted.
“His mother, Irina Glebovna, when her son was still at school, went crazy,” Tonechka launched into explanations. - You can think differently about Anatole, but when Irina became completely mad, he attached her to a boarding house, where she lived until February of this year. And he took Sevka to him. Irina Glebovna left a luxurious five-room apartment on Patriarch's Ponds from her father, a famous scientist. Anatole quickly arranged guardianship over Ira, handed over the mansions, and gave the money received for rent for the maintenance of his son's mother. Although…
Antonina was silent for a moment, and then continued:
“Actually, I don’t know about financial matters. Maybe not all the money went to pay for the boarding school, Anatole had something left for personal desires? In February, Irina Glebovna died. Since their marriage with the director was never formalized, Anatole is no one to her by law, and Vsevolod is her only natural son. Six months after the death of his mother, he became the full owner of the apartment. And who will get them now?
“Anatole and Agatha,” I suggested.
- No, one widow! Antonina said.
“The father has rights to his son's property,” Ponomarev objected.
“The trick is that Anatoly Sergeevich never officially recognized the boy as his child,” Tonya explained. - The surname is Vsevolod Avdeev, the patronymic is Anatolyevich, but this does not mean anything.
- The director took his son to live with him, but did not register paternity? I was amazed. - Why?
- Dear Agatha, if a man dies under strange circumstances, then his wife is the first to be suspected. And interestingly, very often this very suspicion develops into confidence. Lovely, faithful, caring ladies often send their beloved husbands to the next world. What did you say to Azamat, remember?
Agatha was silent. I reproachfully said:
“It’s stupid to deny knowing a guy. By the way, he is very handsome, younger than you, and against the background of Seva, he looks like Apollo at all. Azamat is good for everyone, one problem - he is a beggar, works in the market in Masha's shop, paints terrible pictures like "Snakes in a Pine Forest". So you remembered your conversation with the young man? It took place quite recently, just an hour ago.
Agatha continued to stand like a pillar without making a sound. But you could see how her right hand, thrust into the pocket of her skirt, shuddered, the thin fabric could not hide the nervous movements of her fingers. I approached Agatha almost closely.
“Your reluctance to speak is understandable. Okay, I myself will convey the contents of your conversation. Azamat complained that he was tired of hiding, meeting with you secretly. And you said, you have to wait, the holiday will come to your street, go nearby without hiding, holding hands. But Azamat continued to whimper, and then you said: “That's all. Now the devils in hell got his black soul. But we have to be careful, my name should not be associated with his death in any way. We'll wait six months." Like so. I didn't mess anything up? I have a good memory, but it is difficult to verbatim the entire conversation. But you can listen to the recording on the recorder, I always carry it in my bag and turn it on if necessary. Another time, when you decide to have a frank dialogue, carefully check if there are other people's ears nearby. Stay Vsevolod alive, I would never blabbed about your secret, it's none of my business who you sleep with. But Anatole's son is killed, you are the heiress of a luxurious apartment in the center of Moscow, which, according to the most conservative estimates, is worth several million. Not rubles, of course. And you promised Azamat that you would soon walk openly along the streets with him. I'm afraid you fooled the guy. I think you will now be able to take a walk in ten or fifteen years. And the killer never gets the property of his victim. In vain are you going to wait six months to enter into inheritance rights.
Grigory jumped up, covered the distance from the bed to Agatha, who had turned into a stone statue, with one jump, and pulled her hand out of his pocket. The widow's fingers were clutching the switched on mobile phone.
- Yo-my! exclaimed Tonya. - She pressed the speed dial button, and someone heard our conversation!
Grisha made an attempt to grab a cell phone, but Agatha dropped the receiver on the floor, and then stepped on it with her foot with all her might. A crack was heard.
Ponomarev shook his head reproachfully.
- Yes, with such behavior your lawyer will have a bad time. It looks like an admission of guilt and an attempt to save an accomplice. Are you silent? Bad tactic, let's cooperate better. And in vain you destroyed the mobile phone, the telephone company will quickly give out the number that you have now activated. Well don't move...
Grisha leaned out into the corridor and shouted:
- Sergei, Lenya, take the detainee to the car! Let's talk to her in the office.
I moved to the chair, sat down, raised my head and met Agatha's gaze. There was such desperation in her eyes that I felt uneasy.
A minute later, two strong guys took the widow away, Ponomarev left with them. Tonya and I were left alone.
- Wow! she started. - Once, and the matter is over.
“Somehow it turned out too quickly and deftly,” I muttered. - And if you carefully understand, there is no evidence. Yes, I recorded Agatha's conversation with Azamat, but it does not prove anything, except that she has a young handsome lover. An experienced lawyer will easily help out Agatha. And a broken phone does not confirm her guilt in the death of her husband. I shouldn't have attacked Seva's wife with accusations.
My cousin sat on the arm of the chair and hugged me.
“You did exactly the right thing, taking Agatha by surprise. She did not expect this and betrayed herself.
“Agatha was silent,” I reminded her.
- That's it! Antonina nodded. – An innocent person would become indignant, demanded the presence of a lawyer, made a scandal, rushed at the accuser with his fists. Agatha behaved differently. Moreover, she secretly called her lover to warn him: run away, dear, we were discovered. Well done!
That's how I, Viola Tarakanova, received a gift for the New Year - I learned from the news about the wedding of my beloved man! Well, okay, let him be worse! Celebrating the holiday alone is not bad at all ... However, it was not there! My cousin Tonya took me to the Moscow region to visit our common relatives. It turned out to be those other characters!
My uncle Seva, for example, did not have the most honest rules at all: he threw the child from his first marriage out of sight and lived off his new wife Agatha, cheating on her right and left ... No wonder he was stabbed in the back on a dark street! Moreover, Agatha is also not so simple - I heard her conversation with her lover and was horrified: it was they who killed Seva for the sake of an inheritance! Seething with righteous anger, I handed the traitor over to the police, only a lot of things in this story embarrassed me ... I will figure everything out so that an innocent person does not go to jail, but for now I will milk ... a goat on the set of a New Year's program, where I was invited as an honored guest!
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excerpt
For a horseshoe to bring you good luck, nail it to your foot and plow like a horse from sunrise to sunset.
I moved away from the desk, approached the window and pressed my forehead against the cold glass. It’s the end of December, the sun is setting very early, all the horses have already settled comfortably in their stables, eaten and sleep peacefully, and I ... turning around and inhaling sadly, fixed a sad look on the tabletop, where a silent reproach to me, the author, lay an unfinished manuscript. Although the word "unfinished" in this case is inappropriate, because the new book, to be honest, is not written at all. That is, it was not written at all, it was practically not even started. I scribbled three words on the first sheet: "Tanya Zlotnikova was ..." - and that's it. Who is this Tanya? Who will she be in my new detective story? Is Ms. Zlotnikova needed in the plot? And in general, what plot will the unborn detective novel have? Oh, why did Kostya leave and leave me alone on the eve of the New Year?
The last question, however, has nothing to do with creative activity, and there is a clear answer to it: my lover Kostya is a respectful and caring son. The fact is that his mother, Allochka, is an adherent of a healthy lifestyle, so every year on the twentieth of December, Kostya takes her to a tiny Swiss village, where he bought a small house, and they spend almost a month in the bosom of nature. Alla assures that the holidays in the Alps charge her with health for the next twelve months, but only if she goes there with her sons. And if for some reason Kostya cannot keep her company, she will certainly fall ill and die in agony. The tradition is to visit Switzerland and celebrate there first Catholic Christmas, then the New Year, then the reappearance of the baby Jesus, but according to the Russian Orthodox Church, and finally end the protracted holidays with the song “Santa Claus is coming to us, he brings gifts to everyone” on the night of the twelfth to the thirteenth of January, was born in the Fokin family long ago, when Kostya had not even heard of me. Of course, no one is going to break established habits for me.
Just don’t think that Allochka belongs to the biological species “the mother-in-law is simple, vicious” and regularly repeats to her son: “Wives come and go, but the mother is one for life. I accomplished a feat - I gave birth to you. What did the other woman do?
No, Alla is quite a nice, even delicate person, but I am not Kostya's legal wife, he did not take me to the registry office. Therefore, he is not at all obliged to think about my psychological comfort and wonder where and with whom the writer Arina Violova will have to drink champagne on the thirty-first of December.
Why didn't Kostya invite me to the shores of Lake Geneva? Don't you understand? She and her mother always fly to the village of Bois exclusively together, they don’t even take their twin brother Kostya with them. Although, to be completely honest, Allochka loves exclusively the eldest boy. However, the one who issued his first cry ten minutes after him also gets attention and care, but she loves only Konstantin.
I shook my head and ordered myself: Vilka, wake up, stop thinking about other people's family habits and problems. If something cannot be changed, it must be taken for granted. The main thing is not to get upset in any case. A bottomless abyss suddenly appeared on your way and you want to sob from despair? But the bridge will not be built from tears! It is better to try to build it or look for a workaround, and then you will roar when you successfully overcome the obstacle. Problems must be solved, not drowned in their own tears.
So, dear, go make yourself coffee, tea, cocoa, I don’t know what else, wash your face and start writing a book. In addition, meeting the New Year alone is not a bad thing at all. If you think about it, you will see some pluses: you don’t have to spend money on styling and makeup, on a new dress, shoes and gifts for those with whom you sit at the festive table; no need to cut salad, listen to long stupid toasts, stare at the TV, where all the channels will flash the same faces that have been boring for a long time. No, this time I'll lie down on the couch in a cozy bathrobe, put on a romantic comedy, take macaroons with me and treat myself to blackcurrant liqueur. But no one will shout over the ear: “Fork! How can you drink this sticky stuff? Come on, take a sip of champagne! Come on, come on, to the bottom, for good luck!
I can't stand champagne. Any - expensive, cheap, Russian, imported, brut or sweet. I have heartburn and hiccups from it until the morning.
In short, the New Year alone is a wonderful thing! I will be the best! I always dreamed of spending the night on the first of January in solitude!
For a horseshoe to bring you good luck, nail it to your foot and plow like a horse from sunrise to sunset.
I moved away from the desk, approached the window and pressed my forehead against the cold glass. It’s the end of December, the sun is setting very early, all the horses have already settled comfortably in their stables, eaten and sleep peacefully, and I ... turning around and inhaling sadly, fixed a sad look on the tabletop, where a silent reproach to me, the author, lay an unfinished manuscript. Although the word "unfinished" in this case is inappropriate, because the new book, to be honest, is not written at all. That is, it was not written at all, it was practically not even started. I scribbled three words on the first sheet: "Tanya Zlotnikova was ..." - and that's it. Who is this Tanya? Who will she be in my new detective story? Is Ms. Zlotnikova needed in the plot? And in general, what plot will the unborn detective novel have? Oh, why did Kostya leave and leave me alone on the eve of the New Year?
The last question, however, has nothing to do with creative activity, and there is a clear answer to it: my lover Kostya is a respectful and caring son. The fact is that his mother, Allochka, is an adherent of a healthy lifestyle, so every year on the twentieth of December, Kostya takes her to a tiny Swiss village, where he bought a small house, and they spend almost a month in the bosom of nature. Alla assures that the holidays in the Alps charge her with health for the next twelve months, but only if she goes there with her sons. And if for some reason Kostya cannot keep her company, she will certainly fall ill and die in agony. The tradition is to visit Switzerland and celebrate there first Catholic Christmas, then the New Year, then the reappearance of the baby Jesus, but according to the Russian Orthodox Church, and finally end the protracted holidays with the song “Santa Claus is coming to us, he brings gifts to everyone” on the night of the twelfth to the thirteenth of January, was born in the Fokin family long ago, when Kostya had not even heard of me. Of course, no one is going to break established habits for me.
Just don’t think that Allochka belongs to the biological species “the mother-in-law is simple, vicious” and regularly repeats to her son: “Wives come and go, but the mother is one for life. I accomplished a feat - gave birth to you. What did the other woman do?
No, Alla is quite a nice, even delicate person, but I am not Kostya's legal wife, he did not take me to the registry office. Therefore, he is not at all obliged to think about my psychological comfort and wonder where and with whom the writer Arina Violova will have to drink champagne on the thirty-first of December.
Why didn't Kostya invite me to the shores of Lake Geneva? Don't you understand? She and her mother always fly to the village of Bois exclusively together, they don’t even take their twin brother Kostya with them. Although, to be completely honest, Allochka loves exclusively the eldest boy. However, the one who issued his first cry ten minutes after him also gets attention and care, but she loves only Konstantin.
I shook my head and ordered myself: Vilka, wake up, stop thinking about other people's family habits and problems. If something cannot be changed, it must be taken for granted. The main thing is not to get upset in any case. A bottomless abyss suddenly appeared on your way and you want to sob from despair? But the bridge will not be built from tears! It is better to try to build it or look for a workaround, and then you will roar when you successfully overcome the obstacle. Problems must be solved, not drowned in their own tears.
So, dear, go make yourself coffee, tea, cocoa, I don’t know what else, wash your face and start writing a book. In addition, meeting the New Year alone is not a bad thing at all.
Darya Dontsova
Iron Lover's Nightmare
For a horseshoe to bring you good luck, nail it to your foot and plow like a horse from sunrise to sunset.
I moved away from the desk, approached the window and pressed my forehead against the cold glass. It’s the end of December, the sun is setting very early, all the horses have already settled comfortably in their stables, eaten and sleep peacefully, and I ... turning around and inhaling sadly, fixed a sad look on the tabletop, where a silent reproach to me, the author, lay an unfinished manuscript. Although the word "unfinished" in this case is inappropriate, because the new book, to be honest, is not written at all. That is, it was not written at all, it was practically not even started. I scribbled three words on the first sheet: "Tanya Zlotnikova was ..." - and that's it. Who is this Tanya? Who will she be in my new detective story? Is Ms. Zlotnikova needed in the plot? And in general, what plot will the unborn detective novel have? Oh, why did Kostya leave and leave me alone on the eve of the New Year?
The last question, however, has nothing to do with creative activity, and there is a clear answer to it: my lover Kostya is a respectful and caring son. The fact is that his mother, Allochka, is an adherent of a healthy lifestyle, so every year on the twentieth of December, Kostya takes her to a tiny Swiss village, where he bought a small house, and they spend almost a month in the bosom of nature. Alla assures that the holidays in the Alps charge her with health for the next twelve months, but only if she goes there with her sons. And if for some reason Kostya cannot keep her company, she will certainly fall ill and die in agony. The tradition is to visit Switzerland and celebrate there first Catholic Christmas, then the New Year, then the reappearance of the baby Jesus, but according to the Russian Orthodox Church, and finally end the protracted holidays with the song “Santa Claus is coming to us, he brings gifts to everyone” on the night of the twelfth to the thirteenth of January, was born in the Fokin family long ago, when Kostya had not even heard of me. Of course, no one is going to break established habits for me.
Just don’t think that Allochka belongs to the biological species “the mother-in-law is simple, vicious” and regularly repeats to her son: “Wives come and go, but the mother is one for life. I accomplished a feat - I gave birth to you. What did the other woman do?
No, Alla is quite a nice, even delicate person, but I am not Kostya's legal wife, he did not take me to the registry office. Therefore, he is not at all obliged to think about my psychological comfort and wonder where and with whom the writer Arina Violova will have to drink champagne on the thirty-first of December.
Why didn't Kostya invite me to the shores of Lake Geneva? Don't you understand? She and her mother always fly to the village of Bua exclusively together, they don’t even take their twin brother Kostya with them. Although, to be completely honest, Allochka loves exclusively the eldest boy. However, the one who issued his first cry ten minutes after him also gets attention and care, but she loves only Konstantin.
I shook my head and ordered myself: Vilka, wake up, stop thinking about other people's family habits and problems. If something cannot be changed, it must be taken for granted. The main thing is not to get upset in any case. A bottomless abyss suddenly appeared on your way and you want to sob from despair? But the bridge will not be built from tears! It is better to try to build it or look for a workaround, and then you will roar when you successfully overcome the obstacle. Problems must be solved, not drowned in their own tears.
So, dear, go make yourself coffee, tea, cocoa, I don’t know what else, wash your face and start writing a book. In addition, meeting the New Year alone is not a bad thing at all. If you think about it, you will see some pluses: you don’t have to spend money on styling and makeup, on a new dress, shoes and gifts for those with whom you sit at the festive table; no need to cut a salad, listen to long stupid toasts, stare at the TV, where on all channels the same faces that have been boring for a long time will flash. No, this time I'll lie down on the couch in a cozy bathrobe, put on a romantic comedy, take macaroons with me and treat myself to blackcurrant liqueur. But no one will shout over the ear: “Fork! How can you drink this sticky stuff? Come on, take a sip of champagne! Come on, come on, to the bottom, for good luck!
I can't stand champagne. Any - expensive, cheap, Russian, imported, brut or sweet. I have heartburn and hiccups from it until the morning.
In short, the New Year alone is a wonderful thing! I will be the best! I always dreamed of spending the night on the first of January in solitude!
I quickly grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Whatever the box is showing now, I will look into it with great interest. The main thing is not to think about any nonsense.
The screen turned soft green, a charming blonde appeared and with a happy smile on her lips, made up with pink-pearl lipstick, she began to cry:
- The program "Secrets and scandals of the week", with you Kotya Curious ...
I immediately felt like crying. Wow, how lucky I pressed the button! Kotya Curious is currently the most needed person in my life! I've never watched a gossip show before, but I guess it's a lot better than chilling news. Tell me why the brigades preparing them do not notice anything good in the country? Why do TV people constantly report only about natural disasters, catastrophes, crimes and scare naive viewers with prophecies about the imminent death of all Russians from hunger, cold and economic crises?
I sat down in a chair and prepared to hear about how a certain singer took her husband away from her friend. Although, it is quite possible that they will now report a fight between a journalist and a representative of show business. I am not a fan of the yellow press, but today I just need a dose of nonsense, and the more incredible they are, the better.
Mendelssohn's march sounded from the speakers. I got excited. Wedding! Great, I will admire the beautiful dresses, the multi-tiered cake and the smiles of happy people.
“Yesterday, in the small French town of Aix-en-Provence, the wedding of businessman Konstantin Fokin and Vlada Karelina, the daughter of the owner of the May publishing holding, was celebrated in secrecy,” the host chattered.
I almost fell out of my chair when I heard the name of the groom, but then I took a breath. My Konstantin is now in Switzerland with his mother. He just had a complete namesake.
“Konstantin Fokin successfully combines business and creativity,” Kotya Curious broadcast with zeal, “under the pseudonym “K. Franklin" he acts as a photographer.
I clutched the armrests and froze with my mouth open.
“The bride is an aspiring film actress,” murmured from the screen, “now she is filming a film sponsored by her billionaire father. The marriage of Fokine and Karelina, privately concluded just before the couple's departure to France, turned out to be a complete surprise for secular Moscow, which immediately started talking about a merger of capital. Why did Konstantin and Vlad not want to arrange a magnificent holiday? Well, not because of the lack of funds for a fun feast, ha ha ... Only our program "Secrets and Scandals of the Week" will show you a report from the registry office. We apologize for the quality of the footage, it was taken with the help of an iPad.
The screen flickered. I saw one of Kostya's cars, the same jeep that I had driven with him more than once. The doors opened to reveal Franklin and a slender girl in a soft pink suit. They proceeded into the building, where they were met by a fat woman with a "tower" on her head. Frames changed each other. A large hall, a desk, an open granary book, Kostya's hand signing on the page, thin fingers with impeccable manicure and a ring adorned with a large diamond, take a pen ...
“The newlyweds proceeded straight from the registry office to Vnukovo, where a private plane was waiting for them,” Kotya Curious choked with delight. - Together with the newlyweds, they flew to France: Alla, Konstantin's mother, Nika, Vlada's sister, as well as her parents. According to a trustworthy source, Fokin and his wife will return to Moscow on February 15th. That's when I will certainly ask them a lot of questions.
I slowly got up, went to the table and turned on my laptop. I can't be called a genius of the computer world, but I am quite capable of finding the largest news portal.
Before the New Year, as a rule, nothing particularly interesting happens, and representatives of all the media rush like kites to any news that they would not even notice in November. But the marriage of a major businessman and the daughter of an oligarch belongs to the category of VIP events. On the main page of the Internet publication I opened, there was a message typed in large print: “Konstantin Fokin took Vlad Karelina down the aisle.”