Daria Arkadyevna Dontsova

Volcano of passions of a naive forget-me-not

© Dontsova D. A., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

If you want a man to run away from you forever, start sorting things out with him.

I stood silently in the corner of the elevator, listening to the neighbors who lived several floors above swear. Unfortunately, I didn’t immediately understand that they had started a squabble, I mechanically stepped into the cabin when it opened the doors welcomingly, and said, “ Good morning» to the man and woman who were already inside. I regularly meet these people in the morning, they leave for work at half past eight, and I also often rush to work at this time. There is no friendship between us, I only know that my husband’s name is Semyon, and my wife’s name is Lena. As a rule, they greet politely and sometimes start talking about the weather. Yesterday, for example, in response to my greeting, Semyon said:

“It’s raining horribly today, it’s pouring down like buckets.”

I picked up:

– Unlucky June this year, we were completely flooded.

“Yes, yes,” I nodded.

Sometimes I run into Senya in the evening, he returns from work late, and I can also come home around midnight. We smile at each other, and we again start a conversation on the favorite topic of the Russian person about the weather. I get off on my floor, Semyon drives on. Over several years of communication in the elevator, I managed to find out that the spouses do not have children and that they treat each other tenderly. Semyon sometimes enters the entrance with a bouquet; on Saturdays and Sundays I see a dressed-up husband and wife getting into the car, they are clearly heading to visit or to the theater. In the mornings Semyon never smells of fumes, I have never seen him drunk. Lena wears beautiful fur coats in winter, and in summer expensive dresses, and her shoe bags are not cheap at all. Never in my memory have spouses sorted things out. Probably, like everyone else, they sometimes make trouble, but this has never happened to me. But today my “Good morning” hung in the air. It seems that the neighbors did not notice that I, Tanya Sergeeva, appeared in the cabin. Lena, sobbing, attacked her husband:

- No, explain your position.

Semyon silently looked at the floor, and his wife did not calm down:

- Let's finally sort things out. Why…

The husband pointed his finger at the button with the number “3”, and soon the elevator froze and the doors opened. Semyon flew out onto the staircase and shouted:

- I'm tired of your nagging. Specifically, they stand across the throat. Do you want a dog? Backwater. But then I'll leave home. Choose: either me or the dog!

Yes, if you want your husband to run away from you forever, start sorting things out with him.

I didn’t know what to do: console Lena? Or pretend that she didn’t hear her husband’s evil words and don’t see the tears rolling down her cheeks like peas. Thank God it wasn't a long drive. Muttering: “Goodbye,” I jumped out into the yard, got into the jeep and drove to the barrier. When I moved into an apartment in this building, so as not to raise the question from curious neighbors: “Where does a simple teacher get a powerful, expensive car?” – I left my car overnight in the underground parking lot of a nearby supermarket. But then Porsches, BMWs, Mercedes - all business class cars - began to appear near the entrance, and I stopped being encrypted. Previously, an expensive car indicated your fat wallet, but now it can indicate the size of the loan that the owner took out from the bank.

Having reached the security guard, I saw a confused Elena near the barrier, realized that the enraged Semyon had left alone, and leaned out of the window.

- Can I give you a ride?

“Go to the metro,” the neighbor was delighted, “from there I can quickly get to the Lenin Library.”

“I’ll go along Vozdvizhenka,” I smiled, “I can take you to your place.”

“Thank you,” Lena began to thank, climbing into the cabin. - Wow, how many buttons and toggle switches you have here, like a spaceship control panel.

– I got the jeep from ex-husband“,” I lied as usual, “he somehow improved the car, stuffed something into it, but I don’t understand his gadgets, except that sometimes I turn on the radio.”

We drove in silence for some time, then a green light flashed on the dashboard, I pressed my finger on the square key, the light went out, I grabbed my mobile phone.

- Ivan Nikiforovich, I’m coming to you, don’t worry, I’ll start the lesson on time.

“I understand, someone else is in the car,” the boss muttered, “I’m waiting.”

I put the phone in the holder and again began to fantasize:

– I teach lessons in several private gymnasiums, one recently changed its director, and now there is a very nervous person in the head’s chair, always worried whether the teacher will be late.

“I work as a spa manager,” Lena sighed. - We have such a client, she makes an appointment for a manicure and lets the administrator torment her three days before the appointed time, she will bring hiccups, she calls every hour and asks: “Is Master Krasnova sick?”, “Will she definitely see me?” “I’ll arrive at seven, will the manicurist be late?” A couple of times she appeared when Krasnova’s client was still sitting, and started a scandal, pointed at her watch and shouted: “It’s nineteen zero three now. Why didn't they see me at seven? Ugliness. I'm a busy person." We were glad when she stopped visiting us. Tanya, do you have children?

I was surprised by the tactless question.

- And why? – Lena was not satisfied with the answer.

I slowed down at the traffic light.

– You can name several reasons, but the main one is: I have not yet met a man with whom I would like to give birth. I’m not very child-loving, and the job is such that the baby will end up in the nanny’s arms from infancy, and this is not good.

Elena took a paper handkerchief out of her bag and put it to her eyes.

– Did you hear us arguing in the elevator today? Oh, don't answer. Of course we heard. My husband and I have neither a son nor a daughter. And why? We got married very early. Senya just graduated from military school, and I received a nursing diploma. My husband was assigned to Barnaul, he is a rocket scientist, he sat there on some kind of console. We did not live in the city itself, but nearby. The cat cried out for money, there was no work for me in the military camp, they subsisted on Senin’s salary, but it was paid out irregularly. I started to stutter: “Let’s give birth to a baby.” The husband waved his hands: “Not now, we need to get back on our feet.”

Lena turned to the window.

“We’ve been tossed around the country for years. Well, what kind of child do people have who are always moving to a new place of residence with bundled suitcases? Living conditions Often the bad ones turned out to be: a barracks, a communal apartment, a family hostel. I didn’t want to wash the baby in the shared bathroom. Everything for a child should be the best. What could his military father provide him with? A corner in a little room, a crib behind a screen? Then we got lucky. The seeds were transferred to Moscow and given nice apartment, the husband received the rank of colonel, material well-being finally arrived. I found a great job, we moved from a two-room apartment to a four-room apartment. We bought a dacha, a car, and I decided to get pregnant.

Lena clenched her fists.

- And nothing happened. A year later we went to the doctors and found out that both were healthy, but the children were not getting pregnant. We tried our luck with IVF. Six times. It didn't work out. We went to holy places, ran to sorcerers, healers...

Elena put a handkerchief to her eyes.

– Bottom line: I’m thirty-nine, Sena is forty-two, we don’t have children and never will.

Elena cried quietly.

“Now people even give birth at fifty,” I tried to reassure my neighbor.

Lena wiped her face with her palm:

- Well, I’m not an idiot to give birth to a baby at the age when one becomes a grandmother. Who will help the child if the parents die in fifteen years?

“We must look at the situation with optimism,” I muttered, “it’s unlikely that at fifty-five you will say goodbye to this world.”

“Everything is possible,” the neighbor said gloomily, “we should have given birth before we were thirty, not wait until we got an apartment and a car.” Now I would go to college for my first abortion. I tried to solve the problem. Well, it doesn’t work out for us baby, okay. You can fool the Lord God around your finger. There is now an embryo adoption program.

I almost let go of the steering wheel.

– Embryo adoption?

“Yes,” Elena nodded, “they remain from IVF, some donate their embryos to childless couples.”

“Well, well,” I drawled, “it turns out that your child will be raised in foster family.

“Another woman is carrying him, the baby will become her own,” Lena objected. “I really wanted to take part in this program, but Senya stood up on his hind legs: “I don’t want someone else’s son!” I will never love him as if I were my own.” And the husband is not ready to adopt a baby from a shelter. In general, we closed the topic of children. All. We live together, only for ourselves.

Lena pressed her hands to her chest.

- But I really want a dog. Small, fluffy, I’ve already thought of a name for her: Musenka. And what? Semyon doesn’t even want to hear about the dog. I ask him: “Let’s buy Musenka,” I show photos of puppies on the Internet. But the husband shouts: “Over my corpse.”

– Why doesn’t Semyon want to get a dog? – I was surprised. – Do you know the reason for his dislike for dogs?

The neighbor sighed.

- No. She begged a hundred times: “Explain why you don’t like dogs?” Senya responded: “I love animals, I will never offend them, but they are prohibited from entering my house.” But I live in an apartment too! Today I couldn’t restrain myself, I ran to my husband in the morning, we started to sort things out in the hallway, and we continued in the elevator before your eyes. It turned out to be inconvenient. Senya went crazy, he left alone, thank you, you gave me a ride. And now what i can do? I really want a dog. If there is no child, then at least let the dog live with us. Thank you, Tanechka, I’ll come out here.

I slowed down, Lena got out of the jeep and, waving her hand at me, disappeared into the underground passage. I joined the flow of cars, called the boss and launched into explanations:

“I was giving a lift to a neighbor, she had a fight with her husband, he didn’t put her in the car. One left.

– You need to support your neighbors a good relationship“Ivan Nikiforovich agreed, “I hope you haven’t forgotten that you have a meeting with a new team today?”

“No,” I answered briefly. – You decided to create a structure that will search for missing people and entrust its leadership to me.

“Great,” exclaimed the boss, “tell all employees to be in the meeting room at ten.” And at eleven Galina Sergeevna Moiseenko will come. Her girl is missing.

I sighed, searching for missing children is the hardest task, and asked gloomily:

– When did the child not return home?

“In August,” the boss answered.

I thought I had heard wrong.

- Sorry, when?

“In August,” Ivan repeated.

“It’s June, the first month of summer,” I reminded, “the last has not yet arrived.”

“She disappeared last year,” the chief clarified.

“And your mother just now turned to us?” – I was amazed. – In a year, the chance of finding the baby is zero.

“She’s almost thirty years old,” Ivan Nikiforovich clarified.

“You said ‘girl,’ so I thought she was a baby,” I chuckled.

The boss creaked something.

– I simply repeated Moiseenko’s words.

“I see,” I muttered. - What the strange sound in the tube?

“The box is stuck in the table,” Ivan panted, “I pull it and pull it, but it’s neither here nor there.” Looks like you have a good team.

“I hope,” I sighed, “it was difficult to select people.”

- Shall we have dinner today? - the boss suggested. – Rina is getting ready to bake a pie with cabbage.

“With my weight, it’s better to forget about baking forever,” I sighed, “but when you think about the kulebyak that your mother bakes, you immediately forget about the diet.”

As I entered the meeting room, several people sitting around the round table stood up.

I was embarrassed.

- Sit down please. Let's agree right away that we are just colleagues. I am not a general, you are not soldiers. Yes, I will give instructions, but if you do not agree with me and have your own opinion, then I ask you to openly express and defend it. My name is Tatyana Sergeeva, I don’t like middle names, just call me by my name. I know you, I read personal files, conducted interviews. But you haven't met each other. I can tell you about each one, but I think it would be better if you introduce yourself. Who is first?

There was silence, then the thin brunette raised her hand.

- Can I? Lyubov Pavlovna, pathologist, I am fifty-one years old.

- Yah? – the girl with pigtails arranged in curls above her ears was surprised. “I’ll never give you more than thirty.”

“Thank you,” the expert smiled, “I try to keep my back straight.” I was born in Moscow, studied and live in the capital. I have a quality that is not very pleasant for some: if it comes to work, I will not bend my heart and manipulate the evidence. I started as an assistant to Professor Hoffmann, then set off on a solo voyage. I haven’t lost touch with Gennady Lvovich, my teacher is almost ninety years old, but his head is clear and his physical condition is vigorous. In difficult cases, Gennady Lvovich is always ready to advise me. I changed jobs several times; from the last one, as usual, I was fired at my own request. In fact, I refused to indicate in the report the time of death of the victim, which my boss wanted to see, and they began to quietly survive me. The boss and I didn’t exactly get along in character. I am not aggressive, not scandalous, I do not make comments to colleagues on everyday issues, I do not gossip, I don’t care who is friends with whom. But in my work I am strict, although I am ready to listen to any opinion if it is reasoned, blah blah I’m just not interested. I have a funny last name, Buhl, I got it from my professor husband. Evgeniy Grigorievich cardiologist, Doctor of Science, owner of a small medical center. At the institute my name was Bulya, the name stuck, I respond to it. To be honest, I like it better than Lyuba. Like Tatyana, I don’t like patronymics. I collect atlases, I have an impressive collection. I really wanted to get into a special brigade. All.

“Now I,” the girl with pigtails jumped on the chair. – My name is Edita. The grandmother insisted that her granddaughter be named after the heroine of her favorite book, “Castle in the Dark.” Granny is very romantic, but I am tormented. Edita just makes me shudder. My parents address me as Dita, the rest as Edya. I got the most suitable surname for such a name: Bulochkina. I am twenty-two years old, I am a computer technology specialist, I have two higher education degrees.

– And when did you manage to do all this? – asked a heavyset guy sitting opposite me.

Edita lowered her eyes.

- I do not know. I graduated from school at thirteen, entered Moscow State University, received a diploma at fifteen, and felt like a dropout. A sponsor was found who sent me to America, at nineteen I completed my education in the USA and returned to Moscow. I worked in a large corporation and almost died of boredom. I'm very glad to be with you. I'm not married and don't plan to. In my free time I study in a theater studio and enjoy folk dancing. I don't collect anything. I love tea and know how to brew it correctly. All.

“You got a bright head from your parents,” noted Bull.

Dita smiled.

- Maybe.

I, who knew that Edita was brought up in orphanage and had never met either my own father or mother, I asked:

- Who is next?

“I am,” the strong guy and the pretty blonde said in unison, they looked at each other and laughed.

“Girls are let in first,” said Buhl.

“Very nice,” the blond beauty rejoiced, “Anna Popova.” I haven’t grown up to a middle name, but for information I’ll tell you: Ivanovna. There is nothing interesting about me. Graduated from the Law Faculty of the Sokolov Institute. This is not a Moscow university. She moved to the capital eight years ago when she married Yuri Khvatov, the son of a high-ranking official of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. My father-in-law got me a job in the homicide department. Eight men served there; at first they made fun of me, then they began to teach me wisdom. If someone has an older brother, then this person will understand: I had eight older ones in my service. My husband and I are divorced. I haven’t found a new groom. There were attempts to arrange a personal life. But! If one senior liked my boyfriend, the other couldn’t stand him. One time all eight were happy, but then my former father-in-law and mother-in-law, with whom I live together, reared up, they replaced my parents. I come from a family of hereditary alcoholics; my father and mother drank themselves to death when I turned seventeen. Well, not before, otherwise I would have ended up in a shelter. I don't collect anything. I really love pickled cucumbers. If you want to give me a gift, don't buy chocolates. Bring cucumbers. And cocoa! All.

The strong guy spread his hands.

– I have nothing special to boast about. Valery Krapivin. Thirty-eight years, twenty of which he worked in law enforcement, and rose through the ranks from the first step. He studied at the police school, then at the Academy of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. His mother was a colleague of Buhl, his father, now deceased, was involved in economic crimes. Not married and never was. Have no children. If I have any free time, I spend it in the fitness club. Healthy eating and all that. Nerd. Bad character.

“Alexander Viktorovich Vatagin,” the last member of the team introduced himself, a short, plump man in round glasses, “a psychologist.” Profiler. Fifty years. I have a specialized education as a psychiatrist. You understand that a psychiatrist and a psychologist are different specialists, right?

Those present nodded silently.

Alexander Viktorovich smiled.

- Great. In nineteen seventy, my parents emigrated to the USA. My mother still lives in Nashville; my father, alas, passed away. I studied at an American school, college, and my last place of service in America was in the behavioral analysis department of the private investigation service. Came to Russia ten years ago. I am proud to have been one of the first to insist on the need for such a specialist as a profiler for the police. Roughly speaking, I get into the criminal’s head, start thinking like him, and figure out where to find him. I am not a psychic, not a magician, not a fortune teller with a crystal ball, but a scientist. I know hypnosis. I was married four times, which testifies to my unkillable optimism and belief in miracles. If you see a hoop in my office, don't be surprised. I embroider pictures, it helps me concentrate or relax. I do not smoke.

“Everyone here gets along without cigarettes,” I clarified. – Among those who wanted to get into the special brigade, there were several interesting specialists, but they smoked, and therefore they were refused. We have a ban on tobacco. I have nothing against electronic cigarettes.

“They are harmful,” Bull muttered, “I can explain why.”

The screen of the laptop in front of me became bright, an image of the reception area appeared, then the face of the administrator Sergei.

– Tatyana, Moiseenko has arrived, I settled her down on the first floor and poured her some coffee. Let one of your people go down to get it, or should I lift it up myself?

“Do me a favor, take the lady to our meeting room,” I asked.

“It will be done in two minutes,” the administrator reported.

I stood up and looked at the members of my new team.

- Let's start work. I hope the process of grinding in the team members will not take much time. Let's go to the room where visitors are usually received.

Everyone moved into the next room and sat around the table. Edita placed two laptops in front of her and quietly hummed a song under her breath. The others remained silent. I decided to bring the employees up to date.

– Now Galina Sergeevna Moiseenko will appear here, whose twenty-seven-year-old daughter Hortensia disappeared last August...

I was unable to continue. The door opened and a lady in an expensive silk dress, all hung with expensive jewelry, entered the room. My nose caught the strong smell of alcohol.

Edita quickly pointed her finger at the phone lying in front of her. My phone made a quiet noise, I squinted my eyes and saw that a message had arrived on WhatsApp from the user “Edya”. “She's not drunk. I doused myself in the most fashionable perfumes of the spring-summer season. They are called "Whisky". Their aroma makes everyone feel like you’ve been snubbed.”

I looked at Edita. Either she is able to read other people's thoughts, or I did not maintain an impartial expression on my face, and this is bad.

“Please sit down,” asked Anya, “make yourself comfortable.”

“What kind of comfort can we talk about when I don’t eat, don’t sleep, I only think about Hortense day and night,” Galina Sergeevna sobbed. “I haven’t drunk or eaten since the day she disappeared.”

Well, that's an exaggeration. It is impossible to live for almost a year without water and food.

“My girl,” Moiseenko cried. - Sun! She was stolen, kidnapped, and taken to an unknown direction. The police didn’t lift a finger, they talked nonsense: “Hortensia is an adult, she could just leave.” How does it feel to just leave your mother? Where? For what? God!

Galina grabbed her heart.

- A heart attack is starting. I have three heart attacks a day!

Bull stood up.

- Let me take your blood pressure.

- Do you know how? – Galina inquired with suspicion. – Were you taught how to use a blood pressure monitor at police school?

Lyubov Pavlovna smiled.

– I am a doctor by training. Isn't it difficult for you to prepare your hand yet? I'll go get the device.

“Help me,” Galina whispered, “my fingers are shaking.”

Anya began to carefully roll up the sleeve of the guest’s dress, and Sergei called me again.

- Tatyana, you have a visitor.

“I’m not waiting for anyone,” I was surprised, “we have a meeting with the lady you brought.”

– The visitor says that she came with Moiseenko. Her name is Karina Khlebnikova,” the guy explained.

- Excuse me, Galina Sergeevna, you didn’t come alone? – I asked.

“The driver brought me, Sergei,” the client explained, “he stayed in the car in the parking lot.” And what?

– Do you know the name Karina Khlebnikova? – I continued. “She is downstairs, claiming to have arrived with you.”

- God! Kara! – Moiseenko exclaimed. - How did she know where I went? Stupid question! The driver told her. Of course I know. Karusya is my daughter.

“I see, Hortense’s sister,” I nodded.

“No, no,” Moiseenko objected, “Gorty and Kara were seated at the same desk in first grade.” They became friends and have been together their entire lives since then. Karina’s parents died early, she was still studying at the institute when she was left an orphan, I consider her my daughter. Karochka and Gorty are a good angel, we would be lost without her. She really didn’t want me to come to you. And for the first time I didn’t listen to her, my heart hurts for Hortense. I went to you secretly. Karusha called Sergei, who reported everything to her. The driver is an honest guy, helpful, Kara found him for us, and the guy considers it his duty to inform her about all my movements. Just don’t think anything bad, my named daughter is worried about me, afraid for my health. Kara is going to be upset. Oh! My heart ached again. When I get nervous, I immediately feel bad.

“If you don’t want to see Khlebnikova, they won’t let her through,” I reassured the client.

- Well, what are you talking about! – Galina Sergeevna fussed.

“And here is the tonometer,” said Buhl, “now we’ll find out what and how.”

Lyubov Pavlovna began measuring Moiseenko’s blood pressure and soon announced:

– A little high, but not scary. Galina Sergeevna, what medications do you take?

“I don’t know, darling,” the lady answered, “Karochka buys it and puts it in a box.” My job is to take pills morning and evening. I open one compartment of the box; the day of the week is written on the lid, for example Tuesday. And I swallow the contents. Such pills, one white round, the other yellow oval and half pink. Every Sunday Card for me new set collects for a week. Without Kara, I’m like without hands. And here she is!

A slender girl in jeans and a sweatshirt entered the reception area.

“Karusya, don’t be angry,” Moiseenko sobbed, “I took the initiative.”

“Mom Galya, I love you, you did everything right,” Khlebnikova said. -Can I sit down?

“Of course,” I smiled. - Tea coffee?

“Thank you, nothing,” responded the uninvited visitor.

“My head is spinning,” said Galina, “Kara, my blood pressure is high!” My Gorty. The girl is just a naive forget-me-not, anyone will hurt her.

The girl took a blister pack out of her bag and snapped one tablet out of it.

- Put it under your tongue.

- What is this? – Bull asked curiously.

“Homeopathy, the doctor prescribed it,” Khlebnikova explained. “It’s better for Galina Sergeevna to lie down for ten minutes.” She is very emotional. Do you have a sofa? In the meantime, I will answer all your questions. I'm fully aware of the matter.

“Yes,” Moiseenko muttered, “Karonka, it’s so good that you’re here.” I was wrong to leave without you.

“Mom Galya, I’m wrong, I shouldn’t have dissuaded you from turning to detectives,” Khlebnikova answered softly.

“I’ll help you get up,” Lyuba suggested to Galina, “lean on my hand.”

Kara followed them with her eyes, and when both women disappeared into the corridor, she said:

– I didn’t want Galina Sergeevna to start searching for Gorty. Let me explain in order what and how. First, a little about my named mother.

Khlebnikova told a smooth story. I was quite surprised to hear what Moiseenko did for a living before her husband became a successful businessman.

Galina Sergeevna was a fortune teller; she predicted the future not according to the lines of her hand or using cards. After listening to the client’s question, Galina shook out various sized magic stones from a special bag and read the future from them. In Soviet times, Moiseenko worked secretly, then fortune tellers were not favored, and one could get into the zone for illegal business activities. But Galina figured out how to protect herself; she said goodbye to each client:

“Now I will put a seal of silence on you,” then she made passes over the man’s head with her hands and continued: “If you report me to the police, a black aura of troubles, misfortunes and eternal bad luck will fall on you and your family.”

You understand, a sober-minded, self-confident, accomplished person will not consult with a lady who predicts the future with the help of river pebbles. Completely different people came to Moiseenko; when they heard about the black aura, they got scared and assured the seer that they had no intention of denouncing her.

Galina Sergeevna’s husband Valentin Petrovich worked for a modest salary in a drug treatment clinic, where he tried to treat alcoholics. Quiet, affectionate, smiling, always ready to serve, Galochka emphasized that the king was in the house, Valentin Petrovich. But was he the main one? Let's say the family was going on vacation. Valentin Petrovich announced:

– We’re going to the Sea of ​​Azov. There are fruits, sunshine, and the mother of my classmate Bori Velikhova has been inviting us to relax for a long time.

“Of course, honey,” my wife immediately agreed, “oh, what a great idea you had, we’ll just spend money on tickets.”

“We can’t afford a reserved seat,” my husband immediately warned, “we can’t afford a compartment, I have a modest salary, and I’m not accustomed to stealing, like some people.”

“Dear, you provide for us perfectly,” Galina praised him.

The conversation took place on Monday evening, and on Tuesday Galya, pouring tea for her husband, cooed:

- Honey, I need your advice. I have a client Sofya Kuznetsova, chairman of the local committee of the Writers' Union. Her salary is a pittance, so Sonya cannot pay me for fortune telling. Out of pity, I predict her future for free. Yesterday she called and said: “Galochka, I want to thank you for your kind soul. I still haven’t got any money, so I can give you three free trips to the writers’ holiday home in Pitsunda. Four meals a day, the sea under the windows, two-room suite with all amenities, bathroom, toilet. In one bedroom you and your beloved husband, in the other your charming daughter. Twenty-four days. Return plane tickets are included; you will be met at the airport by the car of the director of the holiday home. Tell your fortune once for his favor, he will be happy. Don't forget your stones." I was completely confused. What should I answer her? Yesterday we decided to go to the collective farm in Azov in a reserved seat carriage with Bori Verikhov’s mother!

“To hell with Borkin’s mother,” Valentin Petrovich decided, “of course, we’re flying to Pitsunda.” This type of holiday is not often offered.

And Moiseenko went to the warm sea. Valentin Petrovich, lying on the beach, reveled in detective novels that he borrowed from the local library. Little Hortense frolicked with the writers' children in the shallow water. On the day of her arrival, Galina Sergeevna ran to the director of the health resort, thanked him for the warm welcome, scattered her stones... The next day, a line of wives, sisters, mothers and mistresses of writers lined up to see the fortune teller. Moiseenko flew home very happy, Galina’s purse was weighed down by a hefty wad of money. It never occurred to Valentin Petrovich once in his life that his wife was deceiving him. He had no idea how much he actually received from his husband's clients. The cunning Galya told him an underestimated figure. So what happened to the rest? The family flew to Pitsunda at Galochka’s expense; she purchased both vouchers and tickets, knew that she would recoup the costs in the south, and categorically did not want to spend her vacation in the barn of the mother of her husband’s classmate, helping her plow her garden. And similar situations happened often. Galina never argued with her husband, but skillfully played the pipe to which he danced. Galina Sergeevna controlled her husband, she loved Valentin very much and tried to protect him from psychological discomfort. Why reproach a spouse who cannot earn money himself? Let him consider himself the head of the family. Go to the Sea of ​​Azov? As you wish, honey. Has your husband changed his mind and decided to go to Pitsunda? Of course, dear, I agree.

Imagine Galya’s amazement when her apathetic doctor, who never tried to make money, at the very beginning of perestroika, cooperated with his best friend, suddenly developed vigorous activity and don’t understand how, in a time of complete legal confusion, he managed to privatize one of the buildings of the drug treatment hospital along with the park where it was located. Valentin and his friend opened a private clinic, began treating alcoholics and drug addicts, and began to earn so much money that Galina Sergeevna even got scared.

A year later, when there was simply nowhere to put suitcases full of dollars, Galya gave up fortune-telling and took up exclusively housekeeping and raising her immensely adored daughter Hortensia. From then on, she scatters her magic stones only for a few old faithful clients.

Galina, having lost all hope of becoming a mother, gave birth to a girl in adulthood. Valentin wanted to name the baby after his mother Katya, his wife, of course, agreed with him. But on the way to the registry office, where happy parents went to register their daughter, the father thought that she should have an unusual name. As a result, Hortense was written in the metric. Of course, it’s just a coincidence that while still an unmarried girl, Galochka dreamed of a daughter who would bear this name.

Gorty grew up in an atmosphere of love. Valentin Petrovich, who disappeared from morning to night in his medical center, felt guilty before his daughter. He was uncomfortable that he didn’t spend time with her at all, so every morning Gorty found gifts from her dad near her bed: a doll, a box of chocolates, plush toy… IN kindergarten the girl didn’t go, there were snotty children from dysfunctional families in the group. As soon as Hortense coughed, a line of doctors lined up in the house. The girl and her mother spent all weekends in museums and theaters. They bought her the best things and toys. Immensely adoring her daughter, Galina understood that she needed to give her a decent education, so tutors constantly came to the house. Mother was overly strict when it came to homework. Gorty studied well at school, entered medical school and immediately earned the love of teachers with her diligence. But the students almost did not communicate with Hortensia, because student Moiseenko came to the first lecture accompanied by her mother and went home with her immediately after classes ended. Gorty had no friends except Karina. Kara turned out to be the only person who was allowed to come to Moiseenko’s house. And Hortense was allowed to visit her friend. The friendship began in first grade, when the girls were seated at the same desk. Galina Sergeevna immediately made inquiries about her daughter’s neighbor, found out that her father was an academician, a world-famous pediatrician, and her mother was one of the best gynecologists in the country, and blessed their friendship. Gorty and Kara went through school and college side by side.

Unfortunately, Valentin Petrovich died when his daughter turned thirteen. Having lost her husband, Galina tripled her care for her daughter and controlled her every step. And Karina’s parents died when she entered her second year. Of course, the girl was scared and confused, and then Moiseenko came to her aid.

“Call me Mama Galya,” she ordered, “now we are one family.” Your apartment must be rented out, you will live with us until you want to live on your own.

Kara spent several years in the apartment of a former fortune teller. On Saturdays she scattered pebbles and said:

- Everything will be fine. I see the groom is in a hurry to see you.

Kara really married nice guy Gleb, lawyer. They settled in Kara’s parental apartment, who constantly visited Moiseenko. It takes her less than a minute to get to her named mother; she just has to cross the front garden; the houses are almost right next to each other. Gleb began to manage the Moiseenko medical center, Galina Sergeevna and Gorty lived for their own pleasure, everything was fine. Very good. Incredibly good. And then the youngest Moiseenko disappeared.

– If Galina adored her daughter so much, then why did she wait so long before starting her search? – Valery was surprised. “And how did Hortense disappear?”

“I just left home,” Karina explained. – Galina went into her room and found an envelope on the table. Naturally, she called me. I came running, started asking questions and found out that there were no strangers in the apartment; it was the housekeeper’s day off. No clutter around, no scattered furniture, no broken vases and the like. Gorty's slippers stood neatly in the hallway. I noticed an open bottle of perfume in her bedroom; my friend forgot to close it, although Gortie was usually incredibly neat; she was probably nervous about running away and didn’t close the cap. But pay attention, my friend sprayed herself with perfume. Would a woman who was kidnapped do this?

“Perhaps the bottle has been open for a long time,” I objected.

- No! – Kara snapped. “In the evening, Hortensia talked to me on the phone and shared her luck. She finally bought perfume, which she has been using for many years, chirping cheerfully: “Karusha, I’m incredibly lucky. My mother and I went to the shopping center, and I saw “Flower of the Night.” I thought I would never find him. I’ll open the sealed box tomorrow.” The conversation took place around midnight. No, Gorty perfumed herself before leaving.

“And she left the coveted bottle at home,” Alexander Viktorovich emphasized. – What did she take with her?

“Nothing,” answered Karina, “except my passport.” And this is another reason why Galina is sure that her daughter was taken away by force. Gorty, even when she was just going to go shopping with her mother, took a large bag with her and put a mountain of things in it: headache pills, an umbrella, a comb, cosmetics, a passport, a phone, an iPad, sweets, handkerchiefs, a notepad, nail polish. hair... I sometimes joked: “You forgot the hairdryer and brushing, suddenly the wind will ruin your hair.” But that day she only took a tiny pink handbag with a long strap, which I gave to Gorty. Everything she needed was left at home.

“Let’s listen to the text of the letter,” I suggested. – Valery, read aloud.

“Wait a second, wait for me,” Bull exclaimed, entering the room. – Galina took the medicine, she needs to lie down for ten minutes. She's in my office.

Krapivin took the piece of paper.

- Dear Mom! I understand that my action will hurt you, but I want to start my own life, because until now I have not had this life. Mother! I never dreamed of becoming a doctor. And you knew about my desire to learn to sing, but you didn’t let me go to music school. I'm almost thirty years old. I'm planning to start a singing career and don't want to get married to become a housewife. This is your script for my life. I have always been by your side, but in the end even a piece of iron can fall apart. That's it, mom. Then go alone. I am no longer capable of feats of filial love; I have been doing them for so long. And I don’t like Igor Glebovich at all. End. I'm going far, far away, where my dream of the stage will come true. I will sing in the best theaters in the world. Don't look for me. Everything is fine with me. I will return when I become free and independent. No matter what you ever did, I loved you and, despite everything, I still love you! Gorty.

“Hmm, yes,” Ivan Nikiforovich grunted, “sometimes a child cannot bear a warm maternal feeling.”

– Was the letter printed on a printer? – Anya clarified.

Krapivin showed everyone the piece of paper.

- Written by hand.

Alexander Viktorovich took the message from Valery.

– The text is without a single blot. Most likely, it was rewritten from a draft. Karina, do you have a sample of Hortensia’s handwriting?

“Don’t doubt it, she wrote it,” the friend clarified, “although you can check.” Galina Sergeevna keeps many of Gorti's school notebooks. But I recognize my friend’s hand; no one has traced letters as carefully as she does for a long time.

“Just calligraphy,” noted Ivan Nikiforovich. “Hortensia used ink and a pen. Pressure, hairline... Beautiful painstaking work.

I glanced sideways at my boss. Ivan is interested in calligraphy and has a large collection of fountain pens. For his last birthday, I gave him a luxury stylus, but it exploded.

“I would like to know the details of Gorty’s departure,” Ivan continued.

Karina drank the cooled tea in one gulp.

“On the day of her disappearance, Gorty allegedly went to visit me in the evening. But I didn’t know anything, I was late at work that day. Galina Sergeevna called me with the words: “Kara, why don’t you answer the home phone? What are you doing there? It’s already half past nine, let Hortense come back, I’ll meet her at your entrance. They told her to turn on her mobile phone. Why did she knock him out?” I am a dentist, I explained to her that I was at an appointment, and in my chair there was a patient with pulpitis. I haven't seen Gorty today. Galina panicked and disconnected. Ten minutes later she called again.

Karina waved her hand.

“I rushed to her as soon as I released the patient. I found Galina Sergeevna in complete panic, crying, screaming, I don’t understand anything, her speech is slurred. With great difficulty I calmed her down and found out how events developed. Galina Sergeevna, discovering that Gorti had gone somewhere, rushed to her daughter’s room and found this message there. In the morning we were at the police station before dawn, Galina Sergeevna broke through to the chief, showed this piece of paper...

Karina looked at Ivan Nikiforovich.

“I understand,” he nodded, “he himself would have said: “Hortensia is almost thirty, she has the right to a private life.”

“Here, here,” agreed Kara, “the policeman repeated five times: “I don’t see the elements of the crime.” This is not a kidnapping, but a voluntary departure.” And then he simply kicked us out of the office. I knew he would react this way. Hortensia clearly indicated in her letter: I’m leaving, I want to live on my own. I tried to dissuade my mother Galya from going to the police, but she seemed distraught, so I decided: let her walk around the offices, hear what other people were saying, and calm down a little. Galina Sergeevna cried all the way, at home I put her to bed. But an hour later they had to call an ambulance, and she was taken to the hospital with a hypertensive crisis. Mama Galya was kept in the clinic for two weeks, and when she recovered, a postcard arrived.

Karina took an envelope out of her bag and handed it to me. I looked at the most ordinary postcard; on one side there was a photo: mountains, sea, blue sky with clouds. It was not possible to understand where the picture was taken; similar landscapes exist in many countries: Greece, France, Spain, Thailand, India... There are plenty of places on earth where there is a sea-ocean, a rock ridge and the sky. The message was extremely laconic: “Everything is fine. Gorty."

“Interesting,” Anya muttered.

“There were eight postcards,” Karina continued, “one per month, including April.” They arrive on the second of the month. The text is almost always the same: “Everything is fine. Gorty." Only twice did the fugitive deviate from the rules.

Kara placed a thin stack of mail in front of Anya. Popova began to sort through them.

- "Happy Birthday Mom. Gorty”, “Happy New Year, Mom. Gorty." The author of the messages cannot be called a graphomaniac.

I took the postcards from Anna, began to look at them and at the same time asked a question:

– For what reason did you come to us? Judging by the letter, your best friend rebelled. Galina Sergeevna put a lot of pressure on her daughter, and she eventually lost her thread. The younger Moiseenko does not want to communicate with the older one. It's an unpleasant story, but Hortense has the right to decide her own fate. Postcards testify to her good attitude towards her mother; probably, someday, having arranged her personal life, Gorty will restore contact with her. But now she clearly doesn't want it. I report to my superiors and have been ordered to look for Hortense. Maybe we'll find out where she lives. But, Karina, will your friend be happier when her hideout is discovered?

Edita reached for one postcard, took it, then stared at the computer.

“I tried to explain to Galina Sergeevna that she needs to leave her daughter alone, because she’s alive,” muttered Kara, “we need to wait until Gorty returns on her own.” Galina Sergeevna did not want to listen to me. She started searching. The police, as you know, did not listen to her. But private detectives willingly took on the job, but, unfortunately, they all turned out to be charlatans. My friend’s mother, thank God, after contacting the third detective, realized that home-grown Sherlock Holmeses were of no use, and stopped running to them. And what did we get? From August to September, Galya’s mother was ill; in September she began to look for a private owner. In October I hired one, he pretended to be active until December, took money, but did nothing. In January, Galina Sergeevna hired another detective, who in early February said that he needed to be paid more. I persuaded Moiseenko to give it up, she found a third one. He “worked” until March, took the money and ran away without giving any information. In April, Galina Sergeevna, having received another postcard, muttered:

“Gorty is alive, that’s the main thing.” You're probably right, Kara. I put too much pressure on my daughter, I always considered her a naive forget-me-not who would be offended by everyone. Hortensia will live alone, get bored and come. If I find her, it will completely destroy our relationship. All. Let's forget about detectives, they are all crooks.

I couldn't believe my ears. Mom Galya finally uttered sensible words. In April she did not start searching, she seemed to have calmed down. And in May the next postcard did not arrive, and Galina Sergeevna again fell into a panic. I tried to convince her that the message could simply have been lost at the post office, but she did not want to listen to reasonable arguments, she repeated: “Gorty has been kidnapped.” I told her: “No, she’s doing great.” But Galina Sergeevna did not calm down. She has several clients who remain from Soviet times. Moiseenko now doesn’t take money from them for throwing stones, grannies come to her, first they tell fortunes, then they drink tea and chat. They meet once every three to four months. One lady’s son is a deputy, I think his mother Galya asked him to find real detectives, not scammers. She didn't tell me anything. The first time she hid something from me. Well, yes, she knew how I felt about her initiative. On the other hand, what can I do? Galya's mother has a scrap of money, she has the right to spend it wherever she wants, even burn it. I don’t feel sorry for the money wasted, but for her health. So she came to you alone, so what? Now he can’t get off the couch. Okay, the driver brought me up to date, and I rushed here. With a bag full of medicines!

“I have whole cabinets of medicine,” said Bulya. - Sorry, I'll give you some advice. Show Galina Sergeevna to a good doctor, it seems to me that she has a problem with her lungs. I am a pathologist, but I started as a therapist, although I didn’t work for long.

“You are an excellent diagnostician,” noted Karina, “yes, she is sick, but we are persistently treating and hoping for the best.”

– Gorty knew that her mother was unwell and still ran away? – I clarified.

“No, Galina Sergeevna felt bad after she left, I think stress provoked the rapid development of the disease,” muttered Kara. – Please tell Moiseenko that you refuse to help her. That Gorty doesn't want to come home.

“I can’t do this,” I objected, “I have orders from my superiors to start searching.”

“I thought you were the biggest boss here,” Karina sighed. - How to find the main one?

I glanced sideways at Ivan, who sat indifferently, as if the conversation didn’t concern him at all.

– I’ll convey your wishes to our boss. Karina, in Hortensia’s letter there is a phrase: “I don’t like Igor Glebovich at all.” Who is he?

“The groom that Galina Sergeevna found for Gorty,” Khlebnikova explained. – A few months before her daughter’s escape, the mother announced that it was time for her beloved girl to get married. She, of course, decided to choose her son-in-law herself. I probably studied suitors for a long time and settled on Igor Glebovich Klebanov. I didn’t understand why Galina liked him so much. An ordinary doctor, there are not enough stars in the sky. She explained to me: “I’m not getting younger, my health is getting worse. What will happen to Gorty when I die? She is not independent. It must be given to good hands. Igor is a great option. He is the son of an old friend of mine, a decent man. I was rummaging through my notebook when I started thinking about my groom, and I realized: here he is! Klebanov is a doctor, he will inherit a share in the clinic from me and become the owner. Hortensia will like Igorek, and he will love her, how can you not love Gorty? I'm sure they will have a great relationship." But my friend, having learned what her mother was up to and having met her potential husband, fell into a panic.

- Kara! He's nasty, with sticky hands. I don't even want to sit next to him. Please talk to your mom, you are the only person she listens to. Maybe you can explain to her that I don’t want to marry Klebanov. He disgusts me.

I went to Galina Sergeevna, but she did not change her intentions.

– Family has nothing to do with love, it is the work of building a strong union in which everyone is happy: the husband, the wife, the children, and the elderly. The current generation of nonsense on the Internet has read enough and let’s shout: sex is the main thing, in your personal life you just need to get pleasure, if your partner does not satisfy you, change him for another. No, dear, family is work, patience, the ability to forgive. You need to be careful when choosing a life partner, and not grab the first piece from the table like a hungry dog. What lies on the edge is definitely not the best. Igor Glebovich is an ideal groom, believe me, I studied him from all sides. I am not eternal. The moment will come and I will leave. Who will take care of Gorty then? She is not adapted to life.

“And it’s true,” came from the door.

I turned my head, Galina Sergeevna was standing on the threshold.

My mobile phone rang and a message arrived from Edie: “Ask her last photo daughters."

“Hortensia refused her engagement to Igor,” Moiseenko continued. – Klebanov was upset, he immediately fell in love with my daughter. Igor is well-mannered, intelligent, educated, and has never been married, because he...

“... a terrible bore,” Karina muttered under her breath. “When we were drinking tea together, he was talking about in the right way life, that everyone should stop drinking, smoking, and eating meat, he uttered elementary truths: “Tobacco use leads to lung cancer. Alcohol ruins your health." He said this with such an air, as if he was making great discoveries, and spoke incessantly. When Gorty reached for the cake, he grabbed her hand: “I wouldn’t recommend that. Very fat cream. This stuffing has a detrimental effect on the liver.” It seems that he has the habits of a tyrant; as soon as he saw a woman, he immediately tried to control her.

Galina Sergeevna looked reproachfully at her named daughter.

– Do you consider showing basic care despotism? The desire to protect a woman from a stupid act through authoritarianism? Personally, I call this behavior caring. And Klebanov is right, cream cake is not the best food.

– But it’s not right to give advice to the bride in the very first days of meeting? – Karina pouted. “Igor is disgusting, when I saw him, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the handsome guy’s underpants and socks were dirty!” Although he was neatly dressed and smelled of cologne.

Galina Sergeevna tapped her finger on the table.

“It’s clear now whose words Gorty repeated to me when she refused a successful marriage.” Did you really want your friend to be left alone?

Red spots crawled down Karina’s cheeks. I decided to intervene in the conversation.

- Lawless Heart. Your desire to arrange your daughter’s fate could become an incentive to escape. Do you happen to have a photograph of Hortense with you?

“The heart should listen to the voice of reason, and not the muttering of stupidity,” Galina snapped. – The best marriages are of convenience. The main thing is that the calculation is correct. A mother knows best what her unreasonable daughter needs. Yes, naturally, I have a lot of pictures of Gorty with me on my phone.

– Is it difficult for you to give me the phone? – Edita asked. – I’ll download the image.

- For what? – Moiseenko inquired vigilantly.

“To look for Gorty, you need to know what she looks like,” Anya smiled. – Although... you can look at it on social networks.

“She’s not there, I’ve already checked,” Dita announced.

Galina handed her the phone.

– My daughter did not use the Internet.

- Why? – Valery was sincerely surprised.

“I didn’t buy her a computer,” the nervous mother explained angrily, “I didn’t want my pure girl to see the dirt, all these terrible pictures and read nonsense.”

Galina Sergeevna pointed to Edita’s laptop.

“I also don’t know how to use the infernal machine, but I’ve heard a lot from my clients how terrible it is.” Sex! Violence!

“Well, sex is not always terrible,” Valery said quietly, “sometimes it’s even quite pleasant.”

I pushed the guy under the table with my foot, he instantly slammed his mouth shut. My phone beeped and a message arrived from Eddie.

- Wow! – I said against my will.

- What? – Moiseenko responded instantly. – Any news about Gorty?

I looked at her.

- No. Before we get started, you will need to fill out various paperwork. Agreement, for example. You will need a description of your daughter's clothes that you last saw her in, her habits, for example, what does she like to eat for lunch? Can you work with our employee?

“Yes,” Galina nodded. “I don’t believe Gorty ran away!” She was stolen, after being forced to write Farewell letter, and then sent me postcards every month.

I suppressed a sigh. The envelope, according to Karina, was lying on the table in her daughter’s room. Gorty allegedly went to visit Karina while Galina was taking a shower; there were no strangers in the apartment. No one took Hortense away by force. The girl would probably have screamed and the mother would have realized that something bad was happening. Just don’t tell me that the poor fellow was put to sleep with an injection and dragged away under the splash of water from the shower. How would Hortense write the note then? No, she wrote a message in advance, then lied about meeting Karina and ran away.

Edita stood up.

– Galina Sergeevna, let’s go to my office.

“Kara, get up,” the elderly lady ordered.

“It’s better for Mrs. Khlebnikova to stay,” I ordered.

Moiseenko asked:

– Some of the questions that Edita will ask you are very personal, so intimate that you will not want to answer them even in the presence of someone whom you consider almost a daughter.

“Go, Galina Sergeevna, alone,” Karina responded.

When Moiseenko and Edita disappeared into the corridor, Kara leaned over the table and grabbed my hand.

-Have you learned anything yet? Someone sent a message that surprised you, and therefore you removed Galina from the room under a plausible pretext?

- Sorry, Karina, this will be unpleasant for you. But we must show you a photograph of the body in which a credit card in the name of Hortensia Valentinovna Moiseenko was found,” I said.

“God,” Kara whispered, turning pale. - Well, no! Please! I don't want to watch.

“It is necessary for someone to identify the corpse,” Vatagin joined the conversation, “if you refuse, Galina Sergeevna will have to do it.”

- Oh no! – Karina was even more frightened. “She cannot bear the news of her daughter’s death.” But why do you need identification? There is a document! There is a photo in it.

“No,” Edya objected, “it’s a plastic card, they don’t have pictures.” It is necessary to make sure that the body found is actually Hortense.

“I understand that this is a very difficult procedure,” the psychologist spoke again, “but think about what it will be like for the poor mother if she sees Gorty’s corpse.”

“Okay,” Kara whispered, “let’s do it.”

“Valera, turn Edita’s laptop screen towards Karina,” I asked.

Krapivin fulfilled my request. Kara looked at the image for a while, then covered her eyes with her palm.

- This is not Hortense.

- Are you sure? – I clarified. – After death, a person’s appearance sometimes changes.

“It always changes,” Bull unexpectedly noted, “the soul flies away to God, a mortal shell remains on earth.” Naturally, the face becomes different, empty.

I was not surprised by the expert’s words; many doctors and pathologists believe in God. Gleb Valeryanovich, an employee of my former brigade, attends liturgy every Sunday at nine in the morning. And one day I accidentally saw a program with the participation of Natalya Petrovna Bekhtereva, academician, scientific director of the Institute of the Human Brain, a major neurophysiologist, whose works are studied all over the world. A young journalist, asking the scientist questions, at some point said:

“But you know for sure that there is no one there in heaven.”

The heroine of the program politely answered:

- Come on, I know for sure that God exists, our Lord is merciful and humane, that’s the only reason we still inhabit the Earth.

Karina exhaled sharply.

“I’m a doctor, I’ve seen corpses, I’m not afraid of them.” I was afraid to identify the body of my best friend, but pulled myself together. Yes, I'm sure there's another woman in the picture. It's hard to judge from a computer, but I think she's about the same age as Hortense, and her hairstyles are similar. But this is not Gorty. Thank God it's not her! Can I go to the toilet?

“Of course, I’ll accompany you,” Anna offered.

“No, thank you,” Karina refused, “I need to be alone for about five minutes.”

“As you leave the room, turn left, the last door along the corridor,” Popova explained.

Karina left.

– And who’s in the refrigerator? – asked Valery.

“Now the unknown woman,” I sighed, “is in the morgue at the Bratov hospital.” She died from an overdose of the drug Psitomarin.

“Wow, they did the toxicology,” Bull admired.

– When did she die? – Ivan asked.

“The body was found on Monday by employees of the Laska store,” Edita explained. “They came to work and saw a dead young woman on the porch.

“It’s unpleasant,” Krapivin winced.

“Yes, indeed,” Popova agreed.

- Were there clothes? – the boss asked.

Edita nodded.

– A white sundress made of thin fabric, ballet shoes on the feet, a scarf around the neck. Another pink bag, small, was lying nearby. Her sundress is straight up! In short, there’s nowhere, neckline up to the navel. The skirt is cut into ribbons! The girl probably seemed naked when she moved. She's an extreme sportswoman and didn't wear a bra or panties. Just look at the photo for yourself.

“Yeah,” the boss drawled, “well, well... the white handkerchief really touches me.” Why did she tie him? And generally speaking…

I was wary.

– What don’t you like about her things?

– Don’t you have any questions? – the boss narrowed his eyes.

I began to carefully study the photo.

- Not really. The outfit, of course, is revealing, to put it mildly, but now it’s fashionable to be naked and wear thin blouses without a bra. Many women wear microshorts with their entire butt hanging out.

“I’m looking at you and Anna, dressed almost identically,” Ivan Nikiforovich suddenly said, “jeans, pullovers, sneakers.” Is it so fashionable now? Don't women wear beautiful silk dresses these days? Well, the kind that makes your skirt flutter in the wind? And open-toed shoes too?

“It’s so cold outside,” Anna shivered, “not June, but January.”

“Come on,” Valery laughed, “seventeen degrees Celsius is not zero.”

“The weather is not so great,” I agreed, “it rained for two weeks.” You can’t run in ballet sandals, you’ll immediately get wet, sneakers are the most...

The continuation of the phrase got stuck in my throat.

“I figured it out,” the boss rejoiced.

- What? – Valery did not understand.

Alexander Viktorovich pointed to Edita’s laptop.

“The body was found early Monday morning. It rained that day.

“I went on Monday on business and regretted that I only took a light jacket, I should have taken a leather one,” Anya chimed in.

“I put on my autumn boots,” added Ivan.

“And the stranger is in a light sundress and ballet shoes,” I added. - Is it really strange?

“Request the autopsy report,” the profiler suddenly switched to me, “something is wrong here.”

“It’s so good, dear, that you found the time to come in,” Irina Leonidovna was delighted when she saw me on the threshold, “the pie is right out of the oven in ten minutes.” But Vanya hasn’t arrived yet, he’s stuck in a traffic jam. Why are you so pale? I’ll tell Vanya to stop burdening you with work, you have no face!

“It’s kind of murky,” I sighed, untying my sneakers.

-Will you tell me? – Rina whispered conspiratorially.

“Of course,” I promised, slipped my feet into my slippers and hurried to the bathroom.

Yes, yes, I have my own house shoes at the boss’s house. Irina Leonidovna, Ivan’s mother, bought me flip-flops from an expensive store, and I didn’t have the courage to admit that I prefer to run around the apartment barefoot. Irina Leonidovna is a wonderful woman, she cooks so deliciously that I can swallow her cooking with a fork. She always asks Ivan Nikiforovich and me about our affairs and often gives sensible advice. The boss’s mother knows how to look at problems from an unexpected angle, and I am amazed when I hear her comments. It was so simple, it was on the surface, why didn’t I notice it myself? Rina and I became friends, and I come to visit the boss with great joy. I immediately want to cool the ardor of those who decided that Ivan and I were having an affair. No! We're just friends. At work, neither my boss nor I advertise our friendly relationship, it’s not necessary. No one knows that we love to spend our rare free time together. And there is one more secret that we now share together. There is a rumor circulating around the offices that special teams were created by one very wealthy person, who also maintains the structure with his own funds. Among themselves, the people call the main leader Tsar, Emperor, Their Highness, and some call him Our Ghost. Why? No one has seen the mysterious person running the system, even the first and last name of the main boss is unknown. Our two bosses, Ivan Nikiforovich and Pyotr Stepanovich, also never came face to face with him. All instructions are given by the Tsar over the telephone. And, of course, people fantasize with all their might. Some believe that the organization was created by a certain group of people, others that we are actually subordinate to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, others believe that we serve in a secret unit of the FSB. No one gives an explanation. We are paid good money, we have the most modern technology and highly qualified specialists. But when I found myself at Ivan Nikiforovich’s house for the first time, confused in the corridors of a spacious apartment, I accidentally found myself in a large office filled with computers, and I realized: here it is, the control panel for the planet of special teams. The mysterious Tsar, Emperor, Autocrat, leading the generals of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the leadership of the FSB, in general, everyone who, according to the employees, controls us, turned out to be Ivan Nikiforovich. At first I was scared out of my wits, I thought that I would now be kicked out of the system in disgrace. Although everyone knows: if you end up in a special brigade, there is no turning back. They will never even let you retire; at the age of ninety you will turn into a “sleeper” agent, you will doze peacefully in front of the TV, but if you are needed, a battle trumpet will play over your senile ear, and you will rush to its call, creaking with arthritic knees. But for my sake they can make an exception; not everyone manages to reveal the carefully guarded secret of the main boss.

Contrary to all my fears, Ivan did not get angry; on the contrary, we became friends.

- Tanya! – Rina shouted. -Did you drown in the washstand?

“No,” I answered, entering the dining room, “for starters: I won’t fit into it, my carcass will never squeeze through the drain hole.” I am fat! I need to eat less.

“Nonsense,” Rina snorted, “a woman should have beautiful shapes, otherwise it will look like a mop. You can’t constantly go on a diet, it completely kills the nervous system. I eat whatever I want.

A sigh escaped my chest. Irina Leonidovna weighs forty-five kilos, she always puts a couple of spoons of food on her plate, no more. I can eat a truckload of deliciousness.

“Well, where is Vanya,” Rina fussed, “it was very unfortunate that he got into a traffic jam.” Well done, you showed up on time.

I decided to protect Ivan Nikiforovich.

- I was just lucky.

Irina Leonidovna went to the kitchen.

- Now I’ll sprinkle the casserole with Varnika and... Oh! No!

I hurried to her.

- What's happened?

Rina slapped her forehead with her palm.

- Unmemorable goat!

“Not at all,” I smiled.

“I went to the store in the morning, stared like a sheep at the new gate at the rack with spices, and drove home without buying the dumplings,” Irina complained to herself. “And without it, the casserole loses all its flavor.” If you don’t sprinkle some dumplings on the dish, your stomach won’t feel any joy from it.

- Trouble is easy to help. Now I’m going to the supermarket, since it’s in the next house,” I promised.

“Thank you,” Rina was delighted, “but please find some dumplings from India.” Don't take it from Greece, Spain, Africa. And be sure to make sure that it is chopped into small pieces, God forbid you buy ground...

Irina Leonidovna fell silent, then went into the hallway.

- I'll go myself. There are different varieties of Varnika, you will get confused. Which one do you use when cooking? Pink or yellow?

“No,” I admitted, “I heard about this spice for the first time from you.” What does she look like?

“For the varnish,” Rina muttered, pulling on her jacket, “I’ll bring it and you’ll see.”

“It’s raining there,” I tried to stop the boss’s mother, “explain to me in detail about this monitor, then I’ll buy what I need.”

“Varnik,” corrected Rina, “is nonsense, I’m not sugar, I won’t melt from water.” Better grate the cheese. I took a piece out of the refrigerator, but didn’t have time to grate it and, I admit, I hate this task, I’m always cutting my fingers. It’s a pity that you can’t find real Parmesan during the day with fire. I found cheese from Uruguay. To be honest, it doesn’t look like Parmesan, although it’s delicious. The smell, however, is not entirely familiar, but all other cheeses are not suitable for casserole. Vera Gavrilovna, my friend, bought an electric cheese grinder on the Internet. Brilliant device! You put a piece inside - and whack! You get a mountain of grated food. I dream about one like this. I asked Vanya to order it, but he, of course, forgot. That's it, she's gone! Grate the cheese, sprinkle it on top of the casserole and put it back in the oven. Understood?

“Of course,” I assured.

“Clever girl,” Irina Leonidovna did not forget to praise me. – The cheese is on the table, to the right of the sink. There are graters in the closet, you need the one that grinds the pork. Flew away!

Rina jumped out onto the stairs and slammed the door. I returned to the kitchen. Those who have met me for the first time know that cooking is not Mrs. Sergeeva’s hobby. It is believed that a woman must be able to cook. Perhaps, if she is the mistress of a large family, this is correct, but I live alone, I return home late, and, as a rule, eat either in our dining room or somewhere in the city. Why should I learn to cook chikhirtma and make Pozharsky cutlets? However, I have some skill in communicating with a stove. I got married twice and in my first marriage I tried to become a good housewife. I can cook chicken, rolled oats or buckwheat porridge, potatoes. I can fry eggs, and I’m also great at boiling water for tea and deftly opening yoghurts.

I walked up to the sink, looked to the left and immediately saw a not very large block of yellow cheese with a dark burgundy rind, weighing about two hundred grams. For some reason, it was not lying on a plate, but right on the grooved part of the sink, where washed glasses are usually placed. I took the cheese and smelled it. Galina Sergeevna is right, the aroma is not quite ordinary, I find it difficult to explain what it is, it seems to be the same as that produced by grapes. I returned the cheese to its place. Unfortunately, manufacturers now add flavorings and fillers everywhere, regular products are becoming rare. I recently wanted to eat the simplest curd cheese. There were several shelves with them in the supermarket. I saw cheesecakes with jam, condensed milk, nuts, muesli, chocolate filling, puffed rice, raisins, wild berries, pieces of exotic fruits... There was everything except the simple cheesecake without any frills, which I have loved since childhood. The cheese from Uruguay, which smells distinctly of grapes, didn’t strike me; I’m sure it comes in different flavors.

I started opening the cabinets, and in one I found a row of graters, neatly arranged by Rina according to size. Which one should you rub the polish on? And what is this? A root vegetable like a carrot? Afraid of making a mistake, I went online and found the answer. The text appeared on the phone screen: “Porkat is the root of a non-existent magical plant, repeatedly mentioned in the books of the science fiction writer Volynsky-Gorov. With the help of rubbed foam, the heroes of his books blow up stone walls. Each warrior from the Battle of the Planets series always has a little porkat and a grater with him to chop the root like carrots.” I put the phone in my pocket and giggled. This means that Irina Leonidovna is fond of reading science fiction novels, but I had no idea about this. Next time I’ll bring her a few books from my favorite author as a gift. I took the desired grater from the shelf and began to diligently move the yellow block along it. Things were not going well. Rina mentioned that Uruguayan Parmesan is a little soft, but I found it almost stone-like. It’s good that Rina didn’t get hold of authentic cheese; it’s probably even more difficult to deal with. Cursing through my teeth, I went through the grater several times, and eventually completed the task. And then my cell phone rang.

“Tanyusha,” Irina Leonidovna whispered, “I’m standing at the checkout.” I bought everything. How are you? Did you forget about the cheese?

“Rubbed it,” I reported.

– I forgot to warn you that you need a grater...

“Take a carrot,” I interrupted happily.

“You know how to grind powder,” Irina Leonidovna admired.

I really wanted to make the best impression on her, so I replied:

- Certainly.

-Can you boil three hard-boiled eggs? – Irina asked. – Only in a microwave oven. Take the casrul.

I tried my best not to laugh. Irina Leonidovna has literate speech, but even an intelligent person has strange words in stock. My grandmother often said: “Tanya, don’t waste all the soup, it’s made for the family.” The delightful verb “hamster”, meaning to eat greedily, in a hurry and a lot, was apparently invented by the old woman herself. And he stayed with me forever. The harmful grandmother has long been gone from this world. And I, running home after midnight with the pizza I bought on the way, cut off a large piece, start chewing it and sternly say to myself: “Tanya! Don’t hamster all the pizza.” And Rina has the word “kasrul” in her vocabulary. I wonder who in her circle called a saucepan that way in childhood?

“In the microwave oven,” Irina repeated, “not on the stove.”

- Why? – I was surprised.

“Over the fire, the eggs turn out elastic, the whites are slightly rubbery,” the chef’s mother began to explain, “and the yolk will crumble.” In the oven they will become tender and creamy. Hurry up, Tanyusha! Place the eggs and immediately pour the cheese onto the casserole. I got stuck in line. There is only one cash register for the entire store.

“I’ll do everything,” I assured.

I know very well that you can’t put metal dishes in a microwave oven, so I took a glass saucepan out of the cabinet, poured water into it, put eggs in it and thought about it. What time should I set? Is three minutes enough? No, better than five to be sure. I don’t want to see the disappointment on Rina’s face when she begins to peel the shell and realizes that she has soft-boiled eggs in her hands.

The microwave in Irina Leonidovna’s kitchen hangs above the countertop, to the right of the separately installed oven. Turning on the stove, I opened the oven, pulled out a pan with a delicious-smelling casserole, generously sprinkled grated cheese on top, returned the dinner to its place, wanted to see how much time was left for the eggs to cook, and then there was an explosion!

I automatically grabbed the board lying on the table, covered my head with it and jumped into the doorway. What's happening? Did a bomb go off in the boss's apartment? Or... Another thought did not have time to come to mind, once again a deafening bang-bang was heard! The microwave door swung open, something incomprehensible flew out, slammed into a picture depicting two cats cooking cutlets, punched a hole in the paper and disappeared. A second later, a saucepan flew out of the stove and rushed straight towards me. I squealed and sat down. There was a roar behind me. I was trained many times on how to behave in times of serious danger. And in classes with an instructor, I always act clearly, confidently, according to the protocol. But no one has yet bothered to explain to me what to do if a crazed glass container is flying around the room.

I crawled under the oak table and closed my eyes, listening to the ringing and knocking, then there was silence for a while and a well-known voice was heard:

I carefully leaned out of my hiding place, saw that Ivan was standing in the kitchen, and something resembling a ping-pong ball was flying towards him from the right, and I yelled:

The chef rushed to the high sideboard and in the blink of an eye screwed himself into the gap between it and the wall. The “ball” flew into the kitchen area, and the sound of breaking dishes was immediately heard from there. I hid under the table again. What's happening? Is this an attack? Did strangers enter the apartment? Is the bandits' visit connected with the Moiseenko case? Or with some other investigation that is not carried out by my team? Are they hunting me or Ivan Nikiforovich? Nobody knows that I spend my free time with my boss, but finding out where I sometimes go in the evenings is not at all difficult.

I carefully lifted the tablecloth and heard a growing whistle...

- Get down! – Ivan shouted.

Irina Leonidovna fell to the floor as if knocked down. I lowered the edge of the linen tablecloth, but he immediately moved. Ivan’s mother crawled under the table.

“It’s like typhoon Maria,” she whispered. - In the dining room, the lamp on the console and all sorts of trinkets that were clustered around it were broken, the floor was wet in places, strange white and yellow crumbs around, fragments were scattered...

“It looks like there was an explosive device in the microwave oven,” I answered. “I put in the eggs and it worked.”

“There was nothing there in the morning,” muttered Irina Leonidovna, “although... I went out for a couple of hours, went to the market, looked into the bakery...

“It won’t take long for an experienced person to plant explosives,” I added, barely audible.

“We have serious security and a door that cannot be broken into,” Irina objected, “and the windows are impregnable.” The house is completely safe. Vanya correctly assesses the risk of his work. Therefore, our apartment is akin to a bunker.

“Everything can be hacked,” I sighed.

“People who can cope with our locks and security system must be megapros,” Irina muttered, “and there is no fire.” There was just an explosion. Usually it burns afterwards. Strange.

“A pot of water was flying around the dining room and kitchen,” I shuddered, “and what looked like small white balls.” You are right, it is an unusual situation: the dishes were not blown apart in the explosion.

Perplexity flashed in Irina Leonidovna’s eyes.

- A pot of water? Where did she come from?

“I boiled eggs at your request,” I explained.

Irina Leonidovna began to laugh.

- Tanya! You took...

“Glass saucepan,” I interrupted. “I poured water into it, put in the eggs, and set the timer for five minutes.”

Rina, covering her mouth with her hand, jumped out from under the table.

- No no! It’s dangerous there,” I was scared, “we need to call the sappers.”

“Nothing,” said Irina Leonidovna and burst out laughing.

Not understanding what fun she found in what had happened, I also crawled out.

- Vanya, these are eggs! – the mother explained, choking with laughter.

- Which? – the chef asked a brilliant question, sandwiched between the wall and the buffet.

“Chicken,” Rina clarified. – Tanyusha, you can’t cook them in the microwave! They explode there, which is what happened, several eggs fell apart into trash, the rest began to fly through the air.

I digested the information for a second, then looked at the broken lamp, turned into crumbly porcelain figurines, and began to justify myself:

– You asked to cook the eggs in the oven.

Irina Leonidovna did not deny:

– Yes, but she warned me that I needed to take the kasrul.

I pointed to the fragments that littered the floor:

- This is what's left of the saucepan!

“It can’t be,” Irina Leonidovna blinked, “the casrul is plastic.”

It was my turn to be surprised.

– There were only metal pans in the cabinet, there was only one glass one...

Rina hurried to the kitchen area.

- So these are pots. And I talked about kasrul. Here she is!

Rina took a white plastic chicken figure from a shelf hanging near the refrigerator and lifted its upper part. I saw six indentations on the bottom, Irina Leonidovna began to explain:

“Pour a little water in here, put the eggs in, and close it.” Like this!

Rina lowered the lid, and I saw the inscription above the wing: “Magic kasrul.”

– Why such a stupid name? – that’s all I could ask.

Irina Leonidovna threw up her hands.

- Don't know. Maybe similar to a saucepan? There was an explosion, but there was no bomb, the bandits did not enter the house. Vanya, get out. However, you can’t be called brave; you huddle in a shelter and can’t get out.

“Let me sweep up the fragments,” I suggested.

Rina pulled on thick kitchen mittens.

– Let them sit for now, otherwise the casserole will sit out and lose its flavor. Now I’ll sprinkle some dumplings on it and we’ll enjoy it. Vania! Why don't you come out?

“It’s quiet here, it’s good,” the boss muttered, “it’s cozy.” I’d rather have dinner standing, I’ll fit in more.

Irina and I looked at each other and said in unison:

- Stuck!

“No, no, no,” the boss was indignant, “I’m just psychologically tired of the spacious rooms, they are extremely uncomfortable.” Every person needs to find a place where...

“Give me your hand,” the mother ordered, approaching him.

Ivan obeyed. Irina began to pull him, but could not pull him out. I decided to connect to her, and grabbed the boss by the other hand.

“One, two, three,” Rina commanded.

I pulled Ivan as hard as I could.

- Oh! It hurts,” he complained.

- How did you squeeze in there? – I asked.

“Quickly,” answered the chief, “and without any difficulty.”

Irina Leonidovna took a couple of steps back.

– At the moment of stress, Vanya shrank, and when he found himself between the wall and the sideboard, he unclenched. The effect of a rubber ball in a bottle.

“Exactly,” I was delighted, “in the second class the teacher showed us a glass vessel with a very narrow neck.” There was a ball inside. None of the children understood how he was placed there. The teacher explained: “The ball is elastic, deforms easily and therefore passed through the throat. Now it has taken on its usual shape; it is impossible to get it out except by breaking the flask.”

“Well, wow,” Rina admired, “I was told the same thing in class at one time.” Everything is stable for our teachers, and that’s great. I conclude: Vanya’s freedom can be restored only by breaking either the sideboard or the wall. Dear, the choice is yours, decide what to destroy?

“Why so radical,” the chief panted, “you can move it away.”

“A wall or a buffet, please specify,” Irina demanded.

“Buffet,” the boss sighed, “there will be difficulties with the wall.”

“Great,” the hostess was delighted, “the main thing is to understand how to act.” Tanyusha, put your hands here, I’ll go there, and one, two, three...

I pushed the sideboard, judging by the grunting that Irina Leonidovna made, she did the same thing. But the oak structure did not move even a millimeter.

“If you empty the shelves, it will become much easier,” Ivan advised. - Mom, what is stored there?

“At the top there is a silver service for twenty-four people, eight candlesticks made of the same metal, in the lower compartment there are linen tablecloths, napkins, behind glass, you can see for yourself, glasses, dishes for cakes and pastries, fish, cold cuts,” Rina began to list monotonously, “ I forgot what’s behind the top doors, but it’s full of everything. Vanya, Tanyusha and I will need a year to get all this out. Try to exhale, maybe you will become thinner, turn sideways. Maybe you can get down on all fours and crawl out?

The chief began to sniffle.

– I definitely won’t do the latter.

“We need a lever,” I realized, “let’s put it under the legs, press it...

“And the buffet will tip over,” the boss got scared.

“We don’t need leverage,” Rina sang, “we need a big guy.” Vanya, what is the name of the mountain from the second apartment? The guy looks intimidating, but he is friendly and always says hello.

“Konstantin Mikhailovich,” the son prompted.

“No,” Rina objected, “I remember, he’s Kirill Maksimovich.”

“Absolutely Konstantin Mikhailovich,” the boss insisted.

“Kirill Maksimovich,” repeated Irina Leonidovna, who belonged to the class of active debaters. - Kirill Maksimovich. What does it smell like?

I twitched my nose.

- Casserole.

“An unfamiliar aroma,” Rina was surprised, “I’ve never smelled it before.”

“It’s from the cheese,” I suggested, “it smelled like grapes.”

“It’s strange,” said the hostess, “Uruguayan cheese had a different smell.”

“Some dishes acquire a specific taste from heat treatment,” Ivan joined the conversation.

“Darling, we were talking about the scent,” his mother corrected. - Oh! Casserole! It will sit in the oven and become inedible. I don't care what the name of the giant from the second apartment is. I'll bring him here now.

Rina rushed into the hallway, but I managed to catch her hand.

– Irina Leonidovna, I’ll go for help.

“You don’t know your neighbor,” the hostess objected.

“You’re not on close terms with him either,” I smiled, “better sprinkle the funnel on the casserole for now, otherwise it will spoil.”

“Varnikoy,” corrected Rina, “yes, you’re right.” Second apartment. Don't get confused.

“I’m not good at mathematics, but I know numbers up to ten well,” I assured.

The door of the apartment on the second floor was opened by a tall, frail guy with glasses.

“I’m my parents’ only son,” the man interrupted me in an unexpectedly thick bass voice for such a skinny body.

- Well... maybe then your... uh... dad? – I continued carefully and heard:

– Father and mother left this world a long time ago.

– Is there any man in your apartment? – I started to lose patience.

“Yes,” the stranger calmly confirmed.

I was happy, now I will see the “mountain”.

- He is at home?

-Can you call him?

- No need.

I shook my head.

- Vice versa. I really need it.

“There’s no need to call, I’m already here, in front of you,” the uncle explained, “I live alone.”

It became clear that the conversation had to start anew.

- Hello, Konstantin Mikhailovich, please help Ivan, he is stuck between the wall and the buffet, he feels bad there.

- Yes. Certainly. Wait a second,” the owner of the apartment quickly agreed and, without closing the door, walked along the long corridor into the depths of his apartment.

I looked after him. In my understanding, a mountain is someone two meters tall, weighing half a centner. The neighbor's height is in perfect order; he is taller than many, but he does not have much muscle mass. It’s strange that Rina considers Konstantin a strongman.

“Ready,” the neighbor said briefly, returning.

I was surprised again. Why did he take the suitcase with him?

When we entered the dining room, Konstantin asked loudly:

– Who needs help?

I pointed to Ivan.

- He is there.

The neighbor approached the buffet.

- Good evening. You can pull it out right hand?

“Now,” the boss puffed, “here.”

“I’ll roll up your sleeve, don’t worry,” the neighbor continued.

I sat down on a chair. However, it’s strange, why does the strongman need the boss’s bare arm?

Konstantin put the suitcase on the table, opened the lid, took out a tonometer and began to wrap the cuff on Ivan’s forearm with the words:

– Not very convenient, of course, but you have to work in different conditions.

I didn't know how to react to what was happening. Irina Leonidovna leaned out of the kitchen, looked at the neighbor I had brought and sang:

- Tanyusha, I need your help.

I hurried to the call.

- Who is this? – the boss’s mother inquired in a whisper.

“Mountain,” I answered briefly.

- No! That one is completely different,” Rina objected, “he looks like a saber-toothed bear.”

“Konstantin Mikhailovich opened the door and said that he lives alone,” I explained.

“One hundred and ten to seventy,” the neighbor announced loudly, “slightly low, but it’s not scary.” Now hold the thermometer.

Irina and I went out to the dining room.

“Sorry, Kirill Maksimovich,” said the hostess.

And at the same time I started:

- Konstantin Mikhailovich, why...

Then we both fell silent. The boss laughed.

- Excuse me, we’ve been living in the same building for years, but we haven’t met. My name is Ivan Nikiforovich. My mother Irina is at the table, next to her is Tatyana.

– How should I contact you? – I asked. - Konstantin Mikhailovich?

“No,” the neighbor answered, taking disposable gloves out of his suitcase.

- Yeah! – Irina rejoiced. - I'm right! You are Kirill Maksimovich!

“Boris Petrovich,” the man introduced himself, “a herbalist, a specialist in maintaining and prolonging life.”

“Ah-ah,” Irina said, embarrassed, “sorry.”

“Well,” the doctor was not offended, “you probably confused me with Kirsan Makhmetovich, he is a champion, a weightlifter, now a coach, lives in the second apartment.”

“Wait, that’s where you live,” I was confused, “I just rang the doorbell, you opened it.”

“No, Tatyana,” Boris objected, “you went down to the second floor and went to the apartment alone.” No one lives on the ground floor, it’s just an entrance. The second apartment is on the third floor.

I sat down on a chair. Tanyusha, you are great. First, she stuffed a saucepan with eggs into the microwave, caused an explosion, and then, without looking at the apartment number, she brought in not a weightlifter, but a frail doctor to move the cabinet. And she told him a couple of times: “Ivan Nikiforovich is feeling bad.” What I meant was that it is inconvenient for the boss to stand, squeezed into a narrow space. But the doctor took my words in his own way, did not understand that he was called as, so to speak, the driving force, decided that Ivan needed medical help, and therefore measured his blood pressure and temperature.

“I have such a delicious casserole for dinner,” Irina said frequently, “a huge baking sheet, the three of us can’t finish it, and we can’t leave it for tomorrow.” Let's invite the weightlifter Kurban Methodievich, he will help us solve the problem, and then we'll all have dinner together and make friends at the same time.

“Kirsan Makhmetovich left for the competition,” the doctor said melancholy, “I gave him vitamins for his athletes.” As for me, I eat with great pleasure, because I’m hungry. It's very nice of you to offer me dinner. Ivan Nikiforovich, how long have you been feeling the desire to hide away from life’s difficulties?

“Mmm,” the boss hummed.

“Tatiana was right to be concerned,” the doctor continued, “as far as I can judge from a quick examination: your physical condition does not inspire concern.” But the mental one, hmm. When a man of your age and build squeezes into a gap where even a small dog cannot fit, this suggests a schizophrenic-depressive, casual-verbal-mental transcendental state of auto-distress and an anxious-communicative disorder of self-unawareness of mental comfort.

- What? – Rina opened her mouth.

“In short, your son has Kavalerov syndrome,” Boris said. – My last name is Kavalerov, I discovered this disease. I am developing a treatment for it. Created...

I decided to clarify the situation:

– Our pan of eggs exploded, everyone thought there was a bomb in the microwave, Rina and I hid under the table, and Ivan somehow squeezed himself in and couldn’t get out.

“You shouldn’t watch TV in the evening,” the doctor sighed, “it leads to alarmingly manic affectivity, brain aging and inexplicable fears.” Why and who did you need to plant the bomb? You simple people, you are not doing anything serious. In addition to traditional medical education, I also have a diploma as a psychological profiler, I see people like an ultrasound machine. For example, you are Tatyana, a cook. It’s easy to come to this conclusion after seeing you from afar. Your mother is a retired ballerina, she doesn’t know how to cook, that’s why you chose this profession, you really wanted to eat as a child. And your husband is a journalist.

Irina started giggling. And I smiled stupidly. I hope that profiler Vatagin, a member of my new team, is not like Boris Petrovich, who managed to hit the mark in all cases. I am not Irina’s daughter, Ivan and I are not a married couple. And Boris didn’t guess correctly with professions, although I can understand why he was wrong. He turned me into a cook because of my monumental figure. He considered Irina to be a retired ballerina because of her slimness, which was rare for a lady of her age. Although Mr. Soul Expert is right about one thing, as a child I was always not averse to snacking, and even now I don’t complain about the lack of appetite. But why is Ivan a journalist? The same question came to Rina’s mind:

– Why did you decide that Vanya was a correspondent?

“They will crawl into any crevice, they are very persistent,” the doctor explained his train of thought. – Now think about who could be harmed by the most ordinary family? Why blow you up? Would you like me to teach you how to do special exercises and you will stop being afraid of anything?

“We should move the buffet,” Rina asked.

– Good idea“,” the doctor agreed, “it is necessary to eliminate the possibility of huddling in too narrow a space in the house.” Think correctly. Move the furniture aside, and the patient will understand: there is nowhere to hide.

“Ivan is healthy,” Irina objected, “he’s just stuck.”

- Denial! - the doctor exclaimed. – It is difficult for relatives to immediately accept the illness of a family member. Everyone has the same reaction. It `s naturally. I can handle the problem today. But only today. In the future it is necessary...

“Thank you,” I was delighted, “even though you are not a weightlifter, but if we join forces...

“Of course,” the doctor didn’t let me finish, he pulled out a huge syringe with a needle as thick as my finger from his suitcase and, before Rina and I had time to react, he stuck it in Ivan’s shoulder with lightning speed. The chef screamed and jumped out into the middle of the dining room.

- Hooray! – Rina shouted. - Karen Mansurovich! You are a genius! I'm bringing a casserole. Sit down at the table.

“I don’t feel like having dinner,” the boss muttered, rubbing his hand. – What medicine did you give me, Boris Petrovich?

The doctor handed Ivan a piece of paper.

- Vanya, will you refuse my casserole? – Rina gasped.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong,” the boss assessed, handing the leaflet to the doctor. - Well, mom, of course, I’ll eat it clean.

We sat down at the table, Rina sighed sadly.

“I don’t understand why, but it didn’t turn out to be an appetizing crust.” Tanyusha, have you rubbed the entire block?

“Not a piece left,” I assured.

“Mom, you cook like magic,” Ivan praised her.

“There is no beautiful crust,” Rina said sadly.

“Forgive me for my directness, but in food the main thing is not the appearance, but the taste,” Ivan laughed and popped a large piece of casserole into his mouth.

After him, Boris did the same, but I hesitated. The dish Rina prepared smelled strongly, I wouldn’t say it was disgusting, but I didn’t have the desire to try it.

- Well, how? – inquired Irina Leonidovna. - Vanya, why are you silent?

The chief jumped up and ran out of the room. Boris Petrovich grabbed paper napkin, pressed it to his mouth and rushed after Ivan.

-What's wrong with them? – Rina was surprised and tried her work.

Before the fork was in her mouth, she jumped and rushed to the kitchen, from there a splash of water was immediately heard, then Irina Leonidovna shouted:

- Tanyusha! What kind of cheese did you grate?

I went to the sink.

- The one you ordered. It lay here, on the grooved part, a yellow block with a burgundy crust.

Irina rested her hands on the marble tabletop.

- Oh, I can’t! Tanyusha! I warned you: the cheese is on the table to the right of the sink. Where is our ribbed part?

“On the left,” I muttered.

Rina started laughing.

- Now look where you need to. The cheese lies quietly on a plate.

I turned my head. Indeed, I see a rectangular piece wrapped in film.

– Didn’t it bother you that the Uruguayan parmesan was just lying on the sink, without packaging? – Irina was having fun. – Didn’t the strange smell surprise him?

“Well...” I mumbled, “the aroma of grapes... these berries are often served with a cheese plate... What did I grate?”

Rina burst out laughing.

- Soap! I bought it this morning to try, I was tired of the liquid one, I decided to try something new.

I backed away.

- Can't be! It looked like cheese! Can't tell the difference.

“The soap is made specifically for washing dishes,” Irina said, bending over with laughter, “the producers decided: it would be funny to design it like a piece of edam!” Oh, I can't! We haven't had such a fun evening in a long time! First, the saucepan with eggs exploded, then Vanya got stuck, then this doctor, creepy funny... And soap instead of cheese! Ah, tears flowed from my eyes. Sorry, Tanyusha, I'll be right back, just to powder my nose.

Irina Leonidovna ran away. I stood for a second, looking at the cheese, then hurried into the hallway and began to put on my sneakers. The delicate Irina Leonidovna did not mention that all this unbridled fun happened thanks to Mrs. Sergeeva. It’s time to sink into the ground out of embarrassment because of your own stupidity.

- Where are you going? – Ivan was surprised, going out into the hall.

“Home,” I muttered, “get up early tomorrow, meeting at nine in the morning.”

The boss didn't stop me.

“I’ll walk you to the car.”

We walked out of the entrance together, I got into the jeep, slammed the door and rolled down the driver's door window.

- Till tomorrow.

Ivan waved his hand at me.

– Tanya, I have a proposal for you.

I started the engine.

– I’m listening.

“Marry me,” the boss said.

Believe me, I was ready to hear anything, but not this phrase, so I blurted out in surprise:

- I am fat!

The boss chuckled.

– You just have muscle mass acquired as a result of constant exercise. And secondly, what difference does it make what the scales show? I want to take you as my wife, and not make you a prima ballerina. Think about it, don’t rush to answer.

Ivan Nikiforovich turned around and ran to the entrance. I drove out onto the avenue and rushed forward. Marry the boss? Yes, tonight broke all records in terms of surprises.

“I think I should start,” said Bull when everyone sat down around the table.

“Okay, get started,” I agreed.

“Ivan Nikiforovich is not here,” Anna noted.

“He manages several teams,” I explained, “and will not be able to constantly come to our work meetings.” What interesting things did you find, Lyubov Pavlovna?

Buhl rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“We remember that at the door of the Laska store, an employee who came to work earlier than everyone else found the body of a woman. He called the police, who turned out to be excellent bunglers or elementary lazy people. The guys sent the deceased to the morgue and forgot about her. In the bag found next to the body, there was a credit card with her first and last name on it, but no one bothered to inform Galina about her daughter’s death.

“And it’s good that the police turned out to be slobs,” Anya made a noise, “thanks to their irresponsibility, Galina Sergeevna did not get stressed.” Although, of course, this is a complete disgrace! Well, how can you work like that! With complete indifference and a disregard for people.

“This doesn’t surprise me,” Valery drawled, “I saw enough of everyone when I worked on the ground.” Sometimes they won’t even check the corpse’s pockets, but there is a passport. The body will be taken to the morgue, the clothes will be handed over to the warehouse, and the deceased will be registered as an unknown person. It’s good if the relatives are meticulous, they start running everywhere with the photograph, and some orderly identifies the brought client. Otherwise, the poor fellow will rest together with other unidentified people, and the family will not know that he is dead.

“Cause of death: heart attack due to an overdose of the drug Psitomarin,” continued Buhl. – This antidepressant has not been purchased by Russia for a long time, there are a number of reasons for this, it has a lot side effects, ranging from an indomitable increase in appetite to a high risk of heart attack and stroke. It is not recommended to take all medications with alcohol. But there are people who don’t care about the doctor’s instructions or the manufacturer’s instructions; after swallowing a pill, they immediately turn to alcohol. The body's reaction can be unpredictable. For some, alcohol changes the effect of the drug towards excitement, while for others, on the contrary, it makes them sleepy. Some people lose all the effect of taking the drug: you drank it, but after a glass of vodka it did not work. It's like a lottery, you don't know which ticket you'll get. But with Psitomarin, almost everyone has the same situation: you pour any alcohol into your stomach, it falls on the pill, and turn out the lights. The antidepressant becomes many times more powerful, the person quickly falls asleep. And then, as the Lord God pleases. Some, after snoring for a day, wake up experiencing a feeling similar to a severe hangover. Others end up in the hospital, they are pumped out, but some cannot be saved. Due to the extremely sharp reaction of “Psitomarin” with “fire water” they stopped purchasing it from us. Our people consider vodka a panacea for all ills; they treat colds, flu, diarrhea with “white” vodka, and even if they are in a bad mood, God himself simply ordered them to knock over the glass. Therefore, Psitomarin cannot be found in pharmacies now. But what is not in the pharmacy can be easily found on the Internet, they will sell you anything there. A characteristic sign of Psitomarin poisoning is a dark blue border around the mouth, and in our deceased it is clearly visible. In this girl’s body they discovered the presence of “Psitomarin”, equal to five single doses, and another a large number of cocktail that people call “Sea Foam”. One serving contains sixty milliliters of vodka, lemon juice, sugar syrup, raw egg white and a few ice cubes. The mixture is whipped to form a foam, from which the cocktail gets its name.

“The unknown woman swallowed the drug and started lighting it,” Anna winced, “very stupid.”

Lyubov Pavlovna stood up and went to the board hanging on the wall.

“I can say that nothing was forced or poured into her. She voluntarily took the medicine and began to empty glass after glass herself. But! The taste of vodka in “Sea Foam” is not felt at all; lemon juice, sugar syrup and whipped egg whites perfectly mask its taste. A woman could drink the mixture, having no idea that one serving contained sixty milliliters of forty degrees.

“Someone saw her take out the blister and, knowing about the drug’s reaction to alcohol, began to treat her to cocktails,” Valery suggested. - We have a murder.

“We can’t say this for sure yet,” I cooled Krapivin’s ardor.

“Wait, let me finish,” asked Bull. “The autopsy at the morgue was a botch.” An intern worked with the corpse. When I pointed out a lot of mistakes made during the research, they sang a song to me about low salaries, that professionals go to private funeral structures, where they earn many times more, and with the unknown, everything was clear. A pronounced border around the mouth indicated the use of Psitomarin along with alcohol. The chief dissector glanced at the deceased, realized that she had mixed an antidepressant with vodka, told the trainee: “Practice on a simple case,” and went off to do more interesting things. What didn't the student find?

Bull straightened up.

“He didn’t understand that the deceased gave birth about a year ago. But this is not the most interesting thing. Edita, give us a photo.

The large screen on the wall brightened, the expert took the pointer.

- Teeth. There is none of them.

- At all? – Alexander Viktorovich asked with disbelief.

Buhl pointed with a light beam on her jaw.

– Do you see the white marks? These are implants; they serve as the basis for bridges. Not long ago, a woman had all her premolar molars removed, titanium roots were immediately installed in their place, and then crowns were screwed on. The dentist who built all this needs to have his hands torn off. Probably took a ton of money, but did it somehow. This beauty lasts for two, three, or maybe less years.

“Stop,” I commanded, “I installed the implants myself, I have three of them.” I asked the doctor to install them in one visit, but Arkady Zalmanovich refused. In his opinion, this cannot be done. I went to Temkin for three months. And this unfortunate woman has ten iron pins, which, in your opinion, were installed right away?!

“Your doctor is a responsible person,” said Anya, “look on the Internet, there are a lot of advertisements there: “We will install any number of implants in a day.” Some people don’t care about the patient, the main thing is to make money. Lyubov Pavlovna, you just said...

“If possible, without a middle name,” the pathologist winced, “Bulya is better, but Lyuba can also be used as a first name.” It is incorrect to emphasize that you are much younger than me.

“Sorry,” Anechka responded non-confrontingly, “you, Bulya, accused the hospital dissectors of inattention, but look, they took all the pictures.”

“Of course,” Lyuba chuckled, “this is my job.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” I was surprised. - When did you have time?

“I was working on the corpse at night, took it last night,” the expert explained. “The head of the hospital morgue almost died of fear when he saw a permit for the removal of unidentified remains, signed by his supreme deity sitting there,” the expert pointed to the ceiling. “I didn’t know where to hit the floor with my forehead in front of me.” Working in a special brigade is a pleasant thing, I just mentioned it, and Ivan Nikiforovich organized required document with beautiful autographs.

“Yes, that’s true,” I nodded, “the boss has unlimited powers.”

“And he’s handsome,” Anya giggled.

Lyuba knitted her eyebrows, but did not stop Popova.

“Her teeth, or rather the lack thereof, didn’t surprise me.” Some people already have nothing but stumps in their mouths at the age of twenty. But how to establish the girl’s identity?

– Difficulties identifying the corpse? – Ivan’s voice suddenly rang out.

I shuddered and didn’t notice him enter the room.

“I’m already working,” Edita answered, “I’m comparing her photos with photographs of the missing.”

“But you can take fingerprints and do a DNA analysis,” Valery reminded.

“I’m digging in all respects,” Edya nodded. – Buhl took DNA, but so far there is no similarity in the databases. If the deceased has not taken a test before, we are in trouble. There will be nothing to compare the sample with. And the fingers are a bummer. There is none of them.

- Why not? - I did not understand.

“The papillary lines were broken using a laser,” Lyuba explained, “new technologies.” The skin pattern on the pads is eliminated using the device. Previously, the underworld burned fingers with fire, acid, and cut them with a razor, but scars remained, looking at which it immediately became clear: something was wrong with this person. And now the laser turns loops and arcs into a mess, leaving not the slightest trace of the operation. Of course, when you take the prints, you understand that they were deliberately deformed. But there are no traces! The pads look untouched; it is impossible to prove that they have been exposed. They say to the person: “Hello, dear, why did you fix your fingers?” And he answered: “I don’t understand the question, I was born like this.” Add here facial plastic surgery, documents under a different name, and oops! The murderous maniac rapist has disappeared. Instead, a respectable citizen appeared. All that remains is the DNA test; it cannot be faked. But if they didn’t take him before, then that’s a bummer. I will repeat what Edey has already said: there will be nothing to compare the sample with.

I looked at Ivan.

– Extracted teeth and redone papillary lines. They wanted to hide the identity of the unknown person.

– Someone must look for the girl from the morgue! – Popova objected. - She has a child.

- And what? – I asked gloomily. “We don’t know if he’s alive.” All we know is that the stranger gave birth.

“About a year ago,” Bulya clarified again, “there was a caesarean section.” The baby could have died or been given away to be fostered.

“No one has filed a missing person report for the young woman in the last two weeks,” Edita announced, “and the program did not find any similarities in the photo in the database.” I wouldn't count on DNA either.

“The body was dumped near the Laska store,” I remembered. – Edita, can you tell me where he is and what he sells?

– Women's clothing middle price category,” Bulochkina quickly found the answer, “on their website it is written: “The best elite collections in Europe. You take three things, you get the fourth with a fifty percent discount.” There are probably a lot of buyers there, the location is very good, there is a large office center, a clinic, a cinema, and several cafes nearby. Hmmm, they clearly didn’t intend to hide the corpse. And, judging by the light clothes and ballet shoes, which are inappropriate in this June, the body was brought to the store from somewhere.

- Why exactly there? – I was surprised. “They could have thrown it anywhere.”

- Maybe she was killed in the neighboring houses? – Krapivin suggested.

“Usually criminals try to hide a corpse, but here everything is exactly the opposite,” Anna noted.

“I would like to finish,” Bulya frowned. “The deceased has very strange bruises on her legs and calves. I can’t yet imagine what object left them. Do you see?

“A thin crescent,” Anya nodded.

“The letter “S,” Valery expressed his opinion, “but it’s in different types, according to the rules, “C” looks to the right. But here it is turned to the left.

“Here it’s not a “C”, but an “O”, which was sawed across,” I perked up, “only the top half was left.”

– Do we have photographs that the police took when the store employees showed up when called? – I asked.

“Here, look at it,” Edya answered immediately, “the body lies near front door. Maybe when she felt bad, she wanted to ask for help?

“This option cannot be denied,” I did not argue, not understanding what was bothering me.

It doesn't seem like anything special. A high staircase, then a fairly wide platform, on the sides of which there are stone pots with flowers; a woman in a white sundress lies at the door of the store, facing the steps. What worries me? And how did Hortensia’s credit card come into possession of the deceased?

“Look,” Edita said and pointed to the screen, “Larisa Fedorovna Pashkina, twenty-nine years old.” Once she came to the attention of the police, but came out unscathed. It's just a copy of the one in the morgue. Registered at Krasnolesnaya Lane, building twelve, apartment six. Place of work: freelancer.

- How did you find her? – I asked.

Edya pointed to the laptop.

– I ran a photo of the deceased’s face into the search. It was not found anywhere in our databases, which means the girl was not brought to justice, and suddenly - bam! A photo face with the note: “Experiment Program” just flew out. Now I will explain what happened. Bokova Natalya Ivanovna, forty-nine years old, called the police at the Mona cafe. The woman went to look at the cakes in the window, out of the corner of her eye she saw how the girl at the next table, having finished her dessert, hurried to the door, remembered that she had left her wallet on the chair, and yelled: “Stop the thief!” Pashkina was grabbed by the guard at the door. Larisa was asked to open her bag, but she refused. The patrol arrived and took everyone to the station. Pashka’s purse was not in her bag, but it was found on the floor of the cafe. Larisa was detained, her lawyer arrived in the morning and immediately explained to the police that Bokova herself could have dropped the wallet, there were no witnesses to Pashkina’s illegal actions. That was the end of it. But the department where Larisa was taken took part in a three-month experiment; it was equipped with cameras and computers. As soon as someone got into the bullpen, a photo was automatically taken and sent to the database. At one time they wanted to install such equipment in all areas. A photograph of any person who has committed even a minor hooligan offense and is released the next morning after severe reprimand remains forever in the archive. But then they calculated how much this idea would cost and forgot about it. Pashkina found herself in the cell when the equipment was in full swing. Her image has therefore been preserved.

“I see,” I said. “Now I want to know how Pashkina got her hands on Hortensia’s credit card.” Did Larisa steal it? Or did Moiseenko give her the card herself? And it would be nice to be absolutely sure that the body in the morgue is Larisa Fedorovna’s, and not some girl very similar to her.

“Well, yes,” Edita drawled, “but I think it’s definitely her.” Look, in the police photo you can clearly see a special feature, a large mole on the right above upper lip. The mark looks like a beetle.

“The corpse has the same one,” Bulya perked up. – If someone looks like Pashkina, has moles like Pashkina, then she is Pashkina.

“Perhaps,” I agreed, “Anya, talk to Moiseenko’s neighbors, maybe they’ll tell you something interesting.” Valera, find out as much information as possible about Larisa Fedorovna, go to the house where she lived, chat with the neighbors. Edya, rummage through the computer, we need all the information about Pashkina: who are the parents, husband, if it is her body that was found near the Laska store, then the question arises: where is the child? I want to meet Karina Khlebnikova again, I got the feeling that Hortensia’s best friend was not completely frank with us. I'm also going to visit the store where the body was found.

“In the meantime, I’ll work with the papers that were compiled by the police who examined the crime scene,” suggested Alexander Viktorovich, “in case I notice something interesting.”

Edita raised her hand.

– I didn’t have time to say that there are no cameras at the entrance to Laska. Now almost all stores have video surveillance. But this retail outlet doesn’t have it, and they don’t have security either.

- Like this? – I was surprised. – You must have been mistaken!

“No,” Edita snapped, “if I want, I can connect to any video point installed on the street.” "Laska" does not have video surveillance outside. I became curious and checked who was guarding the shop. Nobody. They are not connected to the remote control, they do not have an agreement with any serious security agency.

“Perhaps there are guards with guns on duty in the back room?” - Vatagin suggested. – The owner decided that live security was better than surveillance. The thief will crawl into the hall while the patrol arrives, grab the clothes - and take off, he won’t need much time. And when the watchman is there, he will react immediately.

“It’s strange,” Edita drawled, “the grandfather with the Berdanka is a long-gone character.”

“I meant guys with modern pistols,” the psychologist clarified.

“It’s still not ice,” Edita insisted.

Ivan Nikiforovich stood up.

– Tatyana, come to me, there are a couple of unresolved service issues.

I followed the boss, we went up to the first floor, passed the reception room where Anton, Ivan’s assistant, was sitting at the computer, entered a spacious office and were finally left alone. The boss opened his desk drawer, took out a velvet box and solemnly said:

- Tanya, I ask you to become my wife.

I felt funny.

-Where is the declaration of love?

Ivan was surprised:

– Is it necessary? I will not ask for a woman's hand without feeling for her strong feeling. This is understandable. Or do you think that I have some kind of calculation?

I sat down in a chair.

“Since the groom is much richer than the bride and is also her boss, I should be suspected of being calculating.” I understand that you are not indifferent to me, but I really want to hear a declaration of love.

Ivan was embarrassed.

“Come on,” I was happy.

- You agree? – Ivan clarified.

“First you need to find out how the potential bride feels about you,” I advised. – What if I agree for selfish reasons? And the words “Dear Tanya, I love you, do you love me?” I haven't heard it yet.

“You won’t spend your free time with a person you don’t like,” the boss announced.

“Every girl wants romance,” I said plaintively, “something unusual, original, memorable for a lifetime.” It's a shame to just accept the ring.

The office door swung open without knocking.

- Did you interfere? – asked Dimon.

“Of course not,” I was delighted. - What are you doing here?

“Actually, I’m an employee of the brigade where you used to work,” Korobkov said. - Why do not you pick up the phone? I called you.

I took my mobile phone out of my pocket.

- Sorry, we had a meeting, I turned off the sound. Something happened?

“Lapulya and I invite you, Ivan Nikiforovich, to our wedding,” Dimon solemnly announced, “the ceremony will take place at the Kavaler restaurant in August, here are the invitations.” It’s good that I found you together, there’s less running around the floors.

“You’ve been married a long time,” I muttered. - Or I'm wrong?

“There is a stamp in the passport,” my friend nodded, “but we didn’t have a beautiful ceremony.”

- Wait a minute! – I exclaimed. – It wasn’t yesterday, but I remember that they bought Lapula a dress, some of her, sorry for the frankness, not very pleasant relatives came, it seems they rented a restaurant...

“Yeah,” Dimon agreed, “exactly.” Do you remember the wedding itself?

“No,” I mumbled, “I don’t think I was present at it.” Maybe she went on a business trip?

Korobok shook his head.

- No. Lapuli's relatives quarreled among themselves, and the celebration was cancelled. We lived quietly, and suddenly in the winter Lapulya began to suck my brain out through a tube. Wants White dress, a veil, cries of “bitter”, a bouquet, gifts, an imitation of registration, in short, a nightmare and horror. At first I refused, but Lapulya got upset and cried...

Dimon waved his hand.

– Tanyasha, you will become a bridesmaid. Agree?

“It would be an honor,” I replied.

“A week before the celebration, you will need to try on a dress for the wedding,” the computer scientist continued, “you will come to our home for this.”

-Have you decided to buy me an outfit? For what? – I was surprised. - I have plenty of my own clothes.

“It’s immediately clear that you’re not married,” Dimon chuckled.

For some reason I felt offended.

“I don’t know what your wedding looked like the first time, but the second time I was a witness from the groom,” Dimon for some reason launched into unnecessary memories, “together with the newlyweds (I love this word, there is nothing more stupid than it) you ran into the registry office What they were wearing, they left signatures in the book - and the whole wedding took place. Lapulya dreams of a solemn ceremony with all the subtleties observed. The bride is all in white, the bridesmaids are in identical dresses, the color is pink. Everything is in this color scheme, the decoration of the hall, the clothes of the guests, the food.

“It’s crazy,” I admired. – Will they roll out the multi-tiered cake?

“Certainly,” Dimon promised.

“That’s why, when I recently came to visit you, Lapulya decided to take my measurements,” it dawned on me, “I was very surprised when she brought a centimeter, but Lapulya explained that you were flying to St. Petersburg for work, they breed a special breed there.” blue goats, from whose wool they produce yarn, and then it is used for knitted dresses. They are sold only in the Northern capital, do you want to buy me something like this for my birthday... You completely screwed my brains. What a tricky one! She was already preparing for the wedding then. Why didn't she say anything directly?

“I think because the main thing for Lapa is to arrange a surprise,” Dimon muttered, “to surprise his friends.” But this is what I think, and what Lapulya thinks is unknown to anyone, not even to herself.

“No questions,” I smiled.

“Just don’t you dare tell Lapa that I messed up your outfit,” Dimon was scared.

- Goats in St. Petersburg? – Ivan doubted it belatedly. - A little strange.

“Lapulya doesn’t always lie smoothly,” I explained.

“She doesn’t know how to lie at all,” said Dimon.

– What should I buy you? – the boss asked busily. “Otherwise I’ll bring a useless gift.”

“It seems like we have everything,” Dimon shrugged.

“Bed linen will always come in handy,” I decided, “there are never too many sets, I’ll check with Lapulya about the size of the bed.”

“No need,” the friend waved his hands, “she loves surprises.”

“Then try it on yourself,” I ordered.

“Okay,” Dimon agreed. – I hope none of you will forget about the invitation?

“Well,” Ivan and I answered in unison.

Korobkov headed towards the door.

– Can you tell me how you proposed marriage to your wife? – I asked.

Korobok slowed down and turned around.

“Lapa is very romantic, so she wanted me to hire a carriage drawn by white horses, sit on a horse with a pink mane, gallop up to our house, sing a serenade with a guitar, then climb up the pipe onto the balcony and hand her a box with a ring.

“Great,” I muttered, “beautiful.” And that's what you did?

Dimon laughed and avoided answering. I looked at Ivan.

“I’ll fall out of the saddle,” he said quickly, “and I’m afraid of horses, they have huge teeth.” It’s also difficult for me to climb a pipe; nature has not equipped me with suction cups on my palms and soles. And you live on the twelfth floor, I’ll never crawl there, I won’t even get to the second.

“Well, Lapa came up with this,” I said sadly, “you need to organize something of your own.” You know, no one has ever done romantic things for me.

Ivan looked at the velvet box.

- So you won’t take the ring?

I gave the buildings a go.

– I accept your offer.

The chef opened the lid and handed the ring to me.

- Like? Try it on!

“It’s beautiful,” I answered honestly, putting on the ring with the stone. - Oh! Great.

Notes

The situation is described in Daria Dontsova’s book “The Love Potion of a Chatterbox Sorcerer.”

There is no medicine with this name. There is a drug with a similar effect, the author does not name it for ethical reasons.

How Tanya ended up visiting her boss is described in Daria Dontsova’s book “The Black Widow’s Bermuda Triangle.”

Daria Arkadyevna Dontsova

Tatyana Sergeeva. Diet Detective #20

Tatyana Sergeeva headed a new team to search for missing people. Before the employees had time to get used to each other, the first client appeared. Galina Sergeevna’s daughter Hortensia disappeared almost a year ago. The girl ran away from her mother, who decided to marry her off. Gorty left a note asking her not to look for her; contrary to her mother’s wishes, she wanted to become a singer. Mama stubbornly believes that her daughter was kidnapped, because Gorty did not even tell her faithful friend Karina about her intentions. But the police refused to look for the missing woman because she left the house herself. The daughter sent postcards every month, and when they stopped coming, the mother turned to a special team. Tatyana got down to business, and as the investigation progressed, her new employees unearthed a lot of incredible facts. It turned out that mom and friend Karina lied a lot and hid even more. But you can’t fool Sergeeva! She called fire on herself and beat everyone!

Daria Arkadyevna Dontsova

Volcano of passions of a naive forget-me-not

© Dontsova D. A., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

If you want a man to run away from you forever, start sorting things out with him.

I stood silently in the corner of the elevator, listening to the neighbors who lived several floors above swear. Unfortunately, I did not immediately understand that they had started a quarrel, mechanically stepped into the cabin when it opened the doors welcomingly, and said “Good morning” to the man and woman who were already inside. I regularly meet these people in the morning, they leave for work at half past eight, and I also often rush to work at this time. There is no friendship between us, I only know that my husband’s name is Semyon, and my wife’s name is Lena. As a rule, they greet politely and sometimes start talking about the weather. Yesterday, for example, in response to my greeting, Semyon said:

“It’s raining horribly today, it’s pouring down like buckets.”

I picked up:

– Unlucky June this year, we were completely flooded.

“Yes, yes,” I nodded.

Sometimes I run into Senya in the evening, he returns from work late, and I can also come home around midnight. We smile at each other, and we again start a conversation on the favorite topic of the Russian person about the weather. I get off on my floor, Semyon drives on. Over several years of communication in the elevator, I managed to find out that the spouses do not have children and that they treat each other tenderly. Semyon sometimes enters the entrance with a bouquet; on Saturdays and Sundays I see a dressed-up husband and wife getting into the car, they are clearly heading to visit or to the theater. In the mornings Semyon never smells of fumes, I have never seen him drunk. Lena wears beautiful fur coats in winter, expensive dresses in summer, and her bags and shoes are not cheap at all. Never in my memory have spouses sorted things out. Probably, like everyone else, they sometimes make trouble, but this has never happened to me. But today my “Good morning” hung in the air. It seems that the neighbors did not notice that I, Tanya Sergeeva, appeared in the cabin. Lena, sobbing, attacked her husband:

- No, explain your position.

Semyon silently looked at the floor, and his wife did not calm down:

- Let's finally sort things out. Why…

The husband pointed his finger at the button with the number “3”, and soon the elevator froze and the doors opened. Semyon flew out onto the staircase and shouted:

- I'm tired of your nagging. Specifically, they stand across the throat. Do you want a dog? Backwater. But then I'll leave home. Choose: either me or the dog!

Yes, if you want your husband to run away from you forever, start sorting things out with him.

I didn’t know what to do: console Lena? Or pretend that she didn’t hear her husband’s evil words and don’t see the tears rolling down her cheeks like peas. Thank God it wasn't a long drive. Muttering: “Goodbye,” I jumped out into the yard, got into the jeep and drove to the barrier. When I moved into an apartment in this building, so as not to raise the question from curious neighbors: “Where does a simple teacher get a powerful, expensive car?” – I left my car overnight in the underground parking lot of a nearby supermarket. But then Porsches, BMWs, Mercedes - all business class cars - began to appear near the entrance, and I stopped being encrypted. Previously, an expensive car indicated your fat wallet, but now it can indicate the size of the loan that the owner took out from the bank.

Having reached the security guard, I saw a confused Elena near the barrier, realized that the enraged Semyon had left alone, and leaned out of the window.

- Can I give you a ride?

“Go to the metro,” the neighbor was delighted, “from there I can quickly get to the Lenin Library.”

“I’ll go along Vozdvizhenka,” I smiled, “I can take you to your place.”

“Thank you,” Lena began to thank, climbing into the cabin. - Wow, how many buttons and toggle switches you have here, like a spaceship control panel.

“I got the Jeep from my ex-husband,” I lied as usual, “he somehow improved the car, stuffed something into it, but I don’t understand its gadgets, except that sometimes I turn on the radio.”

We drove in silence for some time, then a green light flashed on the dashboard, I pressed my finger on the square key, the light went out, I grabbed my mobile phone.

- Ivan Nikiforovich, I’m coming to you, don’t worry, I’ll start the lesson on time.

“I understand, someone else is in the car,” the boss muttered, “I’m waiting.”

I put the phone in the holder and again began to fantasize:

– I teach lessons in several private gymnasiums, one recently changed its director, and now there is a very nervous person in the head’s chair, always worried whether the teacher will be late.

“I work as a spa manager,” Lena sighed. - We have such a client, she makes an appointment for a manicure and lets the administrator torment her three days before the appointed time, she will bring hiccups, she calls every hour and asks: “Is Master Krasnova sick?”, “Will she definitely see me?” “I’ll arrive at seven, will the manicurist be late?” A couple of times she appeared when Krasnova’s client was still sitting, and started a scandal, pointed at her watch and shouted: “It’s nineteen zero three now. Why didn't they see me at seven? Ugliness. I'm a busy person." We were glad when she stopped visiting us. Tanya, do you have children?

I was surprised by the tactless question.

- And why? – Lena was not satisfied with the answer.

I slowed down at the traffic light.

– You can name several reasons, but the main one is: I have not yet met a man with whom I would like to give birth. I’m not very child-loving, and the job is such that the baby will end up in the nanny’s arms from infancy, and this is not good.

Elena took a paper handkerchief out of her bag and put it to her eyes.

– Did you hear us arguing in the elevator today? Oh, don't answer. Of course we heard. My husband and I have neither a son nor a daughter. And why? We got married very early. Senya just graduated from military school, and I received a nursing diploma. My husband was assigned to Barnaul, he is a rocket scientist, he sat there on some kind of console. We did not live in the city itself, but nearby. The cat cried out for money, there was no work for me in the military camp, they subsisted on Senin’s salary, but it was paid out irregularly. I was

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stuttered: “Let’s give birth to a baby.” The husband waved his hands: “Not now, we need to get back on our feet.”

Lena turned to the window.

“We’ve been tossed around the country for years. Well, what kind of child do people have who are always moving to a new place of residence with bundled suitcases? Living conditions were often poor: a barracks, a communal apartment, a family hostel. I didn’t want to wash the baby in the shared bathroom. Everything for a child should be the best. What could his military father provide him with? A corner in a little room, a crib behind a screen? Then we got lucky. Semyon was transferred to Moscow, given a good apartment, her husband received the rank of colonel, and material well-being finally arrived. I found a great job, we moved from a two-room apartment to a four-room apartment. We bought a dacha, a car, and I decided to get pregnant.

Lena clenched her fists.

- And nothing happened. A year later we went to the doctors and found out that both were healthy, but the children were not getting pregnant. We tried our luck with IVF. Six times. It didn't work out. We went to holy places, ran to sorcerers, healers...

Elena put a handkerchief to her eyes.

– Bottom line: I’m thirty-nine, Sena is forty-two, we don’t have children and never will.

Elena cried quietly.

“Now people even give birth at fifty,” I tried to reassure my neighbor.

Lena wiped her face with her palm:

- Well, I’m not an idiot to give birth to a baby at the age when one becomes a grandmother. Who will help the child if the parents die in fifteen years?

“We must look at the situation with optimism,” I muttered, “it’s unlikely that at fifty-five you will say goodbye to this world.”

“Everything is possible,” the neighbor said gloomily, “we should have given birth before we were thirty, not wait until we got an apartment and a car.” Now I would go to college for my first abortion. I tried to solve the problem. Well, it doesn’t work out for us baby, okay. You can fool the Lord God around your finger. There is now an embryo adoption program.

I almost let go of the steering wheel.

– Embryo adoption?

“Yes,” Elena nodded, “they remain from IVF, some donate their embryos to childless couples.”

“Well, well,” I drawled, “it turns out that your child will be raised in a foster family.”

“Another woman is carrying him, the baby will become her own,” Lena objected. “I really wanted to take part in this program, but Senya stood up on his hind legs: “I don’t want someone else’s son!” I will never love him as if I were my own.” And the husband is not ready to adopt a baby from a shelter. In general, we closed the topic of children. All. We live together, only for ourselves.

Lena pressed her hands to her chest.

- But I really want a dog. Small, fluffy, I’ve already thought of a name for her: Musenka. And what? Semyon doesn’t even want to hear about the dog. I ask him: “Let’s buy Musenka,” I show photos of puppies on the Internet. But the husband shouts: “Over my corpse.”

– Why doesn’t Semyon want to get a dog? – I was surprised. – Do you know the reason for his dislike for dogs?

The neighbor sighed.

- No. She begged a hundred times: “Explain why you don’t like dogs?” Senya responded: “I love animals, I will never offend them, but they are prohibited from entering my house.” But I live in an apartment too! Today I couldn’t restrain myself, I ran to my husband in the morning, we started to sort things out in the hallway, and we continued in the elevator before your eyes. It turned out to be inconvenient. Senya went crazy, he left alone, thank you, you gave me a ride. And now what i can do? I really want a dog. If there is no child, then at least let the dog live with us. Thank you, Tanechka, I’ll come out here.

I slowed down, Lena got out of the jeep and, waving her hand at me, disappeared into the underground passage. I joined the flow of cars, called the boss and launched into explanations:

“I was giving a lift to a neighbor, she had a fight with her husband, he didn’t put her in the car. One left.

“You need to maintain good relations with your neighbors,” agreed Ivan Nikiforovich, “I hope you haven’t forgotten that you have a meeting with a new team today?”

“No,” I answered briefly. – You decided to create a structure that will search for missing people and entrust its leadership to me.

“Great,” exclaimed the boss, “tell all employees to be in the meeting room at ten.” And at eleven Galina Sergeevna Moiseenko will come. Her girl is missing.

I sighed, searching for missing children is the hardest task, and asked gloomily:

– When did the child not return home?

“In August,” the boss answered.

I thought I had heard wrong.

- Sorry, when?

“In August,” Ivan repeated.

“It’s June, the first month of summer,” I reminded, “the last has not yet arrived.”

“She disappeared last year,” the chief clarified.

“And your mother just now turned to us?” – I was amazed. – In a year, the chance of finding the baby is zero.

“She’s almost thirty years old,” Ivan Nikiforovich clarified.

“You said ‘girl,’ so I thought she was a baby,” I chuckled.

The boss creaked something.

– I simply repeated Moiseenko’s words.

“I see,” I muttered. – What’s that strange sound on the phone?

“The box is stuck in the table,” Ivan panted, “I pull it and pull it, but it’s neither here nor there.” Looks like you have a good team.

“I hope,” I sighed, “it was difficult to select people.”

- Shall we have dinner today? - the boss suggested. – Rina is getting ready to bake a pie with cabbage.

“With my weight, it’s better to forget about baking forever,” I sighed, “but when you think about the kulebyak that your mother bakes, you immediately forget about the diet.”

As I entered the meeting room, several people sitting around the round table stood up.

I was embarrassed.

- Sit down please. Let's agree right away that we are just colleagues. I am not a general, you are not soldiers. Yes, I will give instructions, but if you do not agree with me and have your own opinion, then I ask you to openly express and defend it. My name is Tatyana Sergeeva, I don’t like middle names, just call me by my name. I know you, I read personal files, conducted interviews. But you haven't met each other. I can tell you about each one, but I think it would be better if you introduce yourself. Who is first?

There was silence, then the thin brunette raised her hand.

- Can I? Lyubov Pavlovna, pathologist, I am fifty-one years old.

- Yah? – the girl with pigtails arranged in curls above her ears was surprised. “I’ll never give you more than thirty.”

“Thank you,” the expert smiled, “I try to keep my back straight.” I was born in Moscow, studied and live in the capital. I have a quality that is not very pleasant for some: if it comes to work, I will not bend my heart and manipulate the evidence. I started as an assistant to Professor Hoffmann, then set off on a solo voyage. I haven’t lost touch with Gennady Lvovich, my teacher is almost ninety years old, but his head is clear and his physical condition is vigorous. In difficult cases, Gennady Lvovich is always ready to advise me. I changed jobs several times; from the last one, as usual, I was fired at my own request. In fact, I refused to indicate in the report the time of death of the victim, which my boss wanted to see, and they began to quietly survive me. The boss and I didn’t exactly get along in character. I am not aggressive, not scandalous, I do not make comments to colleagues on everyday issues, I do not gossip, I don’t care who is friends with whom. But in my work I am strict, although I am ready to listen to any opinion if it is reasoned, blah blah I’m just not interested. I have a funny last name, Buhl, I got it from my professor husband.

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Evgeniy Grigorievich cardiologist, Doctor of Science, owner of a small medical center. At the institute my name was Bulya, the name stuck, I respond to it. To be honest, I like it better than Lyuba. Like Tatyana, I don’t like patronymics. I collect atlases, I have an impressive collection. I really wanted to get into a special brigade. All.

“Now I,” the girl with pigtails jumped on the chair. – My name is Edita. The grandmother insisted that her granddaughter be named after the heroine of her favorite book, “Castle in the Dark.” Granny is very romantic, but I am tormented. Edita just makes me shudder. My parents address me as Dita, the rest as Edya. I got the most suitable surname for such a name: Bulochkina. I am twenty-two years old, I am a computer technology specialist, I have two higher education degrees.

– And when did you manage to do all this? – asked a heavyset guy sitting opposite me.

Edita lowered her eyes.

- I do not know. I graduated from school at thirteen, entered Moscow State University, received a diploma at fifteen, and felt like a dropout. A sponsor was found who sent me to America, at nineteen I completed my education in the USA and returned to Moscow. I worked in a large corporation and almost died of boredom. I'm very glad to be with you. I'm not married and don't plan to. In my free time I study in a theater studio and enjoy folk dancing. I don't collect anything. I love tea and know how to brew it correctly. All.

“You got a bright head from your parents,” noted Bull.

Dita smiled.

- Maybe.

I, who knew that Edita was raised in an orphanage and had never met either her own father or mother, asked:

- Who is next?

“I am,” the strong guy and the pretty blonde said in unison, they looked at each other and laughed.

“Girls are let in first,” said Buhl.

“Very nice,” the blond beauty rejoiced, “Anna Popova.” I haven’t grown up to a middle name, but for information I’ll tell you: Ivanovna. There is nothing interesting about me. Graduated from the Law Faculty of the Sokolov Institute. This is not a Moscow university. She moved to the capital eight years ago when she married Yuri Khvatov, the son of a high-ranking official of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. My father-in-law got me a job in the homicide department. Eight men served there; at first they made fun of me, then they began to teach me wisdom. If someone has an older brother, then this person will understand: I had eight older ones in my service. My husband and I are divorced. I haven’t found a new groom. There were attempts to arrange a personal life. But! If one senior liked my boyfriend, the other couldn’t stand him. One time all eight were happy, but then my former father-in-law and mother-in-law, with whom I live together, reared up, they replaced my parents. I come from a family of hereditary alcoholics; my father and mother drank themselves to death when I turned seventeen. Well, not before, otherwise I would have ended up in a shelter. I don't collect anything. I really love pickled cucumbers. If you want to give me a gift, don't buy chocolates. Bring cucumbers. And cocoa! All.

The strong guy spread his hands.

– I have nothing special to boast about. Valery Krapivin. Thirty-eight years, twenty of which he worked in law enforcement, and rose through the ranks from the first step. He studied at the police school, then at the Academy of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. His mother was a colleague of Buhl, his father, now deceased, was involved in economic crimes. Not married and never was. Have no children. If I have any free time, I spend it in the fitness club. Healthy eating and all that. Nerd. Bad character.

“Alexander Viktorovich Vatagin,” the last member of the team introduced himself, a short, plump man in round glasses, “a psychologist.” Profiler. Fifty years. I have a specialized education as a psychiatrist. You understand that a psychiatrist and a psychologist are different specialists, right?

Those present nodded silently.

Alexander Viktorovich smiled.

- Great. In nineteen seventy, my parents emigrated to the USA. My mother still lives in Nashville; my father, alas, passed away. I studied at an American school, college, and my last place of service in America was in the behavioral analysis department of the private investigation service. Came to Russia ten years ago. I am proud to have been one of the first to insist on the need for such a specialist as a profiler for the police. Roughly speaking, I get into the criminal’s head, start thinking like him, and figure out where to find him. I am not a psychic, not a magician, not a fortune teller with a crystal ball, but a scientist. I know hypnosis. I was married four times, which testifies to my unkillable optimism and belief in miracles. If you see a hoop in my office, don't be surprised. I embroider pictures, it helps me concentrate or relax. I do not smoke.

“Everyone here gets along without cigarettes,” I clarified. – Among those who wanted to get into the special brigade, there were several interesting specialists, but they smoked, and therefore they were refused. We have a ban on tobacco. I have nothing against electronic cigarettes.

“They are harmful,” Bull muttered, “I can explain why.”

The screen of the laptop in front of me became bright, an image of the reception area appeared, then the face of the administrator Sergei.

– Tatyana, Moiseenko has arrived, I settled her down on the first floor and poured her some coffee. Let one of your people go down to get it, or should I lift it up myself?

“Do me a favor, take the lady to our meeting room,” I asked.

“It will be done in two minutes,” the administrator reported.

I stood up and looked at the members of my new team.

- Let's start work. I hope the process of grinding in the team members will not take much time. Let's go to the room where visitors are usually received.

Everyone moved into the next room and sat around the table. Edita placed two laptops in front of her and quietly hummed a song under her breath. The others remained silent. I decided to bring the employees up to date.

– Now Galina Sergeevna Moiseenko will appear here, whose twenty-seven-year-old daughter Hortensia disappeared last August...

I was unable to continue. The door opened and a lady in an expensive silk dress, all hung with expensive jewelry, entered the room. My nose caught the strong smell of alcohol.

Edita quickly pointed her finger at the phone lying in front of her. My phone made a quiet noise, I squinted my eyes and saw that a message had arrived on WhatsApp from the user “Edya”. “She's not drunk. I doused myself in the most fashionable perfumes of the spring-summer season. They are called "Whisky". Their aroma makes everyone feel like you’ve been snubbed.”

I looked at Edita. Either she is able to read other people's thoughts, or I did not maintain an impartial expression on my face, and this is bad.

“Please sit down,” asked Anya, “make yourself comfortable.”

“What kind of comfort can we talk about when I don’t eat, don’t sleep, I only think about Hortense day and night,” Galina Sergeevna sobbed. “I haven’t drunk or eaten since the day she disappeared.”

Well, that's an exaggeration. It is impossible to live for almost a year without water and food.

“My girl,” Moiseenko cried. - Sun! She was stolen, kidnapped, and taken to an unknown direction. The police didn’t lift a finger, they talked nonsense: “Hortensia is an adult, she could just leave.” How does it feel to just leave your mother? Where? For what? God!

Galina grabbed her heart.

- A heart attack is starting. U

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I get three heart attacks a day!

Bull stood up.

- Let me take your blood pressure.

- Do you know how? – Galina inquired with suspicion. – Were you taught how to use a blood pressure monitor at police school?

Lyubov Pavlovna smiled.

– I am a doctor by training. Isn't it difficult for you to prepare your hand yet? I'll go get the device.

“Help me,” Galina whispered, “my fingers are shaking.”

Anya began to carefully roll up the sleeve of the guest’s dress, and Sergei called me again.

- Tatyana, you have a visitor.

“I’m not waiting for anyone,” I was surprised, “we have a meeting with the lady you brought.”

– The visitor says that she came with Moiseenko. Her name is Karina Khlebnikova,” the guy explained.

- Excuse me, Galina Sergeevna, you didn’t come alone? – I asked.

“The driver brought me, Sergei,” the client explained, “he stayed in the car in the parking lot.” And what?

– Do you know the name Karina Khlebnikova? – I continued. “She is downstairs, claiming to have arrived with you.”

- God! Kara! – Moiseenko exclaimed. - How did she know where I went? Stupid question! The driver told her. Of course I know. Karusya is my daughter.

“I see, Hortense’s sister,” I nodded.

“No, no,” Moiseenko objected, “Gorty and Kara were seated at the same desk in first grade.” They became friends and have been together their entire lives since then. Karina’s parents died early, she was still studying at the institute when she was left an orphan, I consider her my daughter. Karochka and Gorty are a good angel, we would be lost without her. She really didn’t want me to come to you. And for the first time I didn’t listen to her, my heart hurts for Hortense. I went to you secretly. Karusha called Sergei, who reported everything to her. The driver is an honest guy, helpful, Kara found him for us, and the guy considers it his duty to inform her about all my movements. Just don’t think anything bad, my named daughter is worried about me, afraid for my health. Kara is going to be upset. Oh! My heart ached again. When I get nervous, I immediately feel bad.

“If you don’t want to see Khlebnikova, they won’t let her through,” I reassured the client.

- Well, what are you talking about! – Galina Sergeevna fussed.

“And here is the tonometer,” said Buhl, “now we’ll find out what and how.”

Lyubov Pavlovna began measuring Moiseenko’s blood pressure and soon announced:

– A little high, but not scary. Galina Sergeevna, what medications do you take?

“I don’t know, darling,” the lady answered, “Karochka buys it and puts it in a box.” My job is to take pills morning and evening. I open one compartment of the box; the day of the week is written on the lid, for example Tuesday. And I swallow the contents. Such pills, one white round, the other yellow oval and half pink. Every Sunday Karochka puts together a new set for me for the week. Without Kara, I’m like without hands. And here she is!

A slender girl in jeans and a sweatshirt entered the reception area.

“Karusya, don’t be angry,” Moiseenko sobbed, “I took the initiative.”

“Mom Galya, I love you, you did everything right,” Khlebnikova said. -Can I sit down?

“Of course,” I smiled. - Tea coffee?

“Thank you, nothing,” responded the uninvited visitor.

“My head is spinning,” said Galina, “Kara, my blood pressure is high!” My Gorty. The girl is just a naive forget-me-not, anyone will hurt her.

The girl took a blister pack out of her bag and snapped one tablet out of it.

- Put it under your tongue.

- What is this? – Bull asked curiously.

“Homeopathy, the doctor prescribed it,” Khlebnikova explained. “It’s better for Galina Sergeevna to lie down for ten minutes.” She is very emotional. Do you have a sofa? In the meantime, I will answer all your questions. I'm fully aware of the matter.

“Yes,” Moiseenko muttered, “Karonka, it’s so good that you’re here.” I was wrong to leave without you.

“Mom Galya, I’m wrong, I shouldn’t have dissuaded you from turning to detectives,” Khlebnikova answered softly.

“I’ll help you get up,” Lyuba suggested to Galina, “lean on my hand.”

Kara followed them with her eyes, and when both women disappeared into the corridor, she said:

– I didn’t want Galina Sergeevna to start searching for Gorty. Let me explain in order what and how. First, a little about my named mother.

Khlebnikova told a smooth story. I was quite surprised to hear what Moiseenko did for a living before her husband became a successful businessman.

Galina Sergeevna was a fortune teller; she predicted the future not according to the lines of her hand or using cards. After listening to the client’s question, Galina shook out various sized magic stones from a special bag and read the future from them. In Soviet times, Moiseenko worked secretly, then fortune tellers were not favored, and one could get into the zone for illegal business activities. But Galina figured out how to protect herself; she said goodbye to each client:

“Now I will put a seal of silence on you,” then she made passes over the man’s head with her hands and continued: “If you report me to the police, a black aura of troubles, misfortunes and eternal bad luck will fall on you and your family.”

You understand that a sober-minded, self-confident, accomplished person will not consult a lady who predicts the future with the help of river pebbles. Completely different people came to Moiseenko; when they heard about the black aura, they got scared and assured the seer that they had no intention of denouncing her.

Galina Sergeevna’s husband Valentin Petrovich worked for a modest salary in a drug treatment clinic, where he tried to treat alcoholics. Quiet, affectionate, smiling, always ready to serve, Galochka emphasized that the king was in the house, Valentin Petrovich. But was he the main one? Let's say the family was going on vacation. Valentin Petrovich announced:

– We’re going to the Sea of ​​Azov. There are fruits, sunshine, and the mother of my classmate Bori Velikhova has been inviting us to relax for a long time.

“Of course, honey,” my wife immediately agreed, “oh, what a great idea you had, we’ll just spend money on tickets.”

“We can’t afford a reserved seat,” my husband immediately warned, “we can’t afford a compartment, I have a modest salary, and I’m not accustomed to stealing, like some people.”

“Dear, you provide for us perfectly,” Galina praised him.

The conversation took place on Monday evening, and on Tuesday Galya, pouring tea for her husband, cooed:

- Honey, I need your advice. I have a client Sofya Kuznetsova, chairman of the local committee of the Writers' Union. Her salary is a pittance, so Sonya cannot pay me for fortune telling. Out of pity, I predict her future for free. Yesterday she called and said: “Galochka, I want to thank you for your kind soul. I still haven’t got any money, so I can give you three free trips to the writers’ holiday home in Pitsunda. Four meals a day, the sea under the windows, two-room suite with all amenities, bathroom, toilet. In one bedroom you and your beloved husband, in the other your charming daughter. Twenty-four days. Return plane tickets are included; you will be met at the airport by the car of the director of the holiday home. Tell your fortune once for his favor, he will be happy. Don't forget your stones." I was completely confused. What should I answer her? Yesterday we decided to go to the collective farm in Azov in a reserved seat carriage with Bori Verikhov’s mother!

“To hell with Borkin’s mother,” Valentin Petrovich decided, “of course, we’re flying to Pitsunda.” This type of holiday is not often offered.

And Moiseenko went to the warm sea. Valentin Petrovich, lying on the beach, reveled

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detective novels that he borrowed from the local library. Little Hortense frolicked with the writers' children in the shallow water. On the day of her arrival, Galina Sergeevna ran to the director of the health resort, thanked him for the warm welcome, scattered her stones... The next day, a line of wives, sisters, mothers and mistresses of writers lined up to see the fortune teller. Moiseenko flew home very happy, Galina’s purse was weighed down by a hefty wad of money. It never occurred to Valentin Petrovich once in his life that his wife was deceiving him. He had no idea how much he actually received from his husband's clients. The cunning Galya told him an underestimated figure. So what happened to the rest? The family flew to Pitsunda at Galochka’s expense; she purchased both vouchers and tickets, knew that she would recoup the costs in the south, and categorically did not want to spend her vacation in the barn of the mother of her husband’s classmate, helping her plow her garden. And similar situations happened often. Galina never argued with her husband, but skillfully played the pipe to which he danced. Galina Sergeevna controlled her husband, she loved Valentin very much and tried to protect him from psychological discomfort. Why reproach a spouse who cannot earn money himself? Let him consider himself the head of the family. Go to the Sea of ​​Azov? As you wish, honey. Has your husband changed his mind and decided to go to Pitsunda? Of course, dear, I agree.

Imagine Galya’s amazement when her apathetic doctor, who never tried to make money, at the very beginning of perestroika, collaborated with his best friend, suddenly developed vigorous activity and, don’t understand how, in a time of complete legal confusion, he managed to privatize one of the buildings of the drug treatment hospital along with the park where it was located . Valentin and his friend opened a private clinic, began treating alcoholics and drug addicts, and began to earn so much money that Galina Sergeevna even got scared.

A year later, when there was simply nowhere to put suitcases full of dollars, Galya gave up fortune-telling and took up exclusively housekeeping and raising her immensely adored daughter Hortensia. From then on, she scatters her magic stones only for a few old faithful clients.

Galina, having lost all hope of becoming a mother, gave birth to a girl in adulthood. Valentin wanted to name the baby after his mother Katya, his wife, of course, agreed with him. But on the way to the registry office, where the happy parents went to register their daughter, the father thought that she should have an unusual name. As a result, Hortense was written in the metric. Of course, it’s just a coincidence that while still an unmarried girl, Galochka dreamed of a daughter who would bear this name.

Gorty grew up in an atmosphere of love. Valentin Petrovich, who disappeared from morning to night in his medical center, felt guilty before his daughter. He was uncomfortable that he didn’t spend time with her at all, so every morning Gorty found gifts from her dad near her bed: a doll, a box of chocolates, a plush toy... The girl didn’t go to kindergarten; there were snotty children from disadvantaged families in the same group. As soon as Hortense coughed, a line of doctors lined up in the house. The girl and her mother spent all weekends in museums and theaters. They bought her the best things and toys. Immensely adoring her daughter, Galina understood that she needed to give her a decent education, so tutors constantly came to the house. Mother was overly strict when it came to homework. Gorty studied well at school, entered medical school and immediately earned the love of teachers with her diligence. But the students almost did not communicate with Hortensia, because student Moiseenko came to the first lecture accompanied by her mother and went home with her immediately after classes ended. Gorty had no friends except Karina. Kara turned out to be the only person who was allowed to come to Moiseenko’s house. And Hortense was allowed to visit her friend. The friendship began in first grade, when the girls were seated at the same desk. Galina Sergeevna immediately made inquiries about her daughter’s neighbor, found out that her father was an academician, a world-famous pediatrician, and her mother was one of the best gynecologists in the country, and blessed their friendship. Gorty and Kara went through school and college side by side.

Unfortunately, Valentin Petrovich died when his daughter turned thirteen. Having lost her husband, Galina tripled her care for her daughter and controlled her every step. And Karina’s parents died when she entered her second year. Of course, the girl was scared and confused, and then Moiseenko came to her aid.

“Call me Mama Galya,” she ordered, “now we are one family.” Your apartment must be rented out, you will live with us until you want to live on your own.

Kara spent several years in the apartment of a former fortune teller. On Saturdays she scattered pebbles and said:

- Everything will be fine. I see the groom is in a hurry to see you.

Kara really married a good guy Gleb, a lawyer. They settled in Kara’s parental apartment, who constantly visited Moiseenko. It takes her less than a minute to get to her named mother; she just has to cross the front garden; the houses are almost right next to each other. Gleb began to manage the Moiseenko medical center, Galina Sergeevna and Gorty lived for their own pleasure, everything was fine. Very good. Incredibly good. And then the youngest Moiseenko disappeared.

– If Galina adored her daughter so much, then why did she wait so long before starting her search? – Valery was surprised. “And how did Hortense disappear?”

“I just left home,” Karina explained. – Galina went into her room and found an envelope on the table. Naturally, she called me. I came running, started asking questions and found out that there were no strangers in the apartment; it was the housekeeper’s day off. No clutter around, no scattered furniture, no broken vases and the like. Gorty's slippers stood neatly in the hallway. I noticed an open bottle of perfume in her bedroom; my friend forgot to close it, although Gortie was usually incredibly neat; she was probably nervous about running away and didn’t close the cap. But pay attention, my friend sprayed herself with perfume. Would a woman who was kidnapped do this?

“Perhaps the bottle has been open for a long time,” I objected.

- No! – Kara snapped. “In the evening, Hortensia talked to me on the phone and shared her luck. She finally bought perfume, which she has been using for many years, chirping cheerfully: “Karusha, I’m incredibly lucky. My mother and I went to the shopping center, and I saw “Flower of the Night.” I thought I would never find him. I’ll open the sealed box tomorrow.” The conversation took place around midnight. No, Gorty perfumed herself before leaving.

“And she left the coveted bottle at home,” Alexander Viktorovich emphasized. – What did she take with her?

“Nothing,” answered Karina, “except my passport.” And this is another reason why Galina is sure that her daughter was taken away by force. Gorty, even when she was just going to go shopping with her mother, took a large bag with her and put a mountain of things in it: headache pills, an umbrella, a comb, cosmetics, a passport, a phone, an iPad, sweets, handkerchiefs, a notepad, nail polish. hair... I sometimes joked: “You forgot the hairdryer and brushing, suddenly the wind will ruin your hair.” But that day she only took a tiny pink handbag

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on a long belt that I gave to Gorty. Everything she needed was left at home.

“Let’s listen to the text of the letter,” I suggested. – Valery, read aloud.

“Wait a second, wait for me,” Bull exclaimed, entering the room. – Galina took the medicine, she needs to lie down for ten minutes. She's in my office.

Krapivin took the piece of paper.

- Dear Mom! I understand that my action will hurt you, but I want to start my own life, because until now I have not had this life. Mother! I never dreamed of becoming a doctor. And you knew about my desire to learn to sing, but you didn’t let me go to music school. I'm almost thirty years old. I'm planning to start a singing career and don't want to get married to become a housewife. This is your script for my life. I have always been by your side, but in the end even a piece of iron can fall apart. That's it, mom. Then go alone. I am no longer capable of feats of filial love; I have been doing them for so long. And I don’t like Igor Glebovich at all. End. I'm going far, far away, where my dream of the stage will come true. I will sing in the best theaters in the world. Don't look for me. Everything is fine with me. I will return when I become free and independent. No matter what you ever did, I loved you and, despite everything, I still love you! Gorty.

“Hmm, yes,” Ivan Nikiforovich grunted, “sometimes a child cannot bear a warm maternal feeling.”

– Was the letter printed on a printer? – Anya clarified.

Krapivin showed everyone the piece of paper.

- Written by hand.

Alexander Viktorovich took the message from Valery.

– The text is without a single blot. Most likely, it was rewritten from a draft. Karina, do you have a sample of Hortensia’s handwriting?

“Don’t doubt it, she wrote it,” the friend clarified, “although you can check.” Galina Sergeevna keeps many of Gorti's school notebooks. But I recognize my friend’s hand; no one has traced letters as carefully as she does for a long time.

“Just calligraphy,” noted Ivan Nikiforovich. “Hortensia used ink and a pen. Pressure, hairline... Beautiful painstaking work.

I glanced sideways at my boss. Ivan is interested in calligraphy and has a large collection of fountain pens. Last birthday I gave him a luxury stylus, but it exploded?

“I would like to know the details of Gorty’s departure,” Ivan continued.

Karina drank the cooled tea in one gulp.

“On the day of her disappearance, Gorty allegedly went to visit me in the evening. But I didn’t know anything, I was late at work that day. Galina Sergeevna called me with the words: “Kara, why don’t you answer the home phone? What are you doing there? It’s already half past nine, let Hortense come back, I’ll meet her at your entrance. They told her to turn on her mobile phone. Why did she knock him out?” I am a dentist, I explained to her that I was at an appointment, and in my chair there was a patient with pulpitis. I haven't seen Gorty today. Galina panicked and disconnected. Ten minutes later she called again.

Karina waved her hand.

“I rushed to her as soon as I released the patient. I found Galina Sergeevna in complete panic, crying, screaming, I don’t understand anything, her speech is slurred. With great difficulty I calmed her down and found out how events developed. Galina Sergeevna, discovering that Gorti had gone somewhere, rushed to her daughter’s room and found this message there. In the morning we were at the police station before dawn, Galina Sergeevna broke through to the chief, showed this piece of paper...

Karina looked at Ivan Nikiforovich.

“I understand,” he nodded, “he himself would have said: “Hortensia is almost thirty, she has the right to a private life.”

“Here, here,” agreed Kara, “the policeman repeated five times: “I don’t see the elements of the crime.” This is not a kidnapping, but a voluntary departure.” And then he simply kicked us out of the office. I knew he would react this way. Hortensia clearly indicated in her letter: I’m leaving, I want to live on my own. I tried to dissuade my mother Galya from going to the police, but she seemed distraught, so I decided: let her walk around the offices, hear what other people were saying, and calm down a little. Galina Sergeevna cried all the way, at home I put her to bed. But an hour later they had to call an ambulance, and she was taken to the hospital with a hypertensive crisis. Mama Galya was kept in the clinic for two weeks, and when she recovered, a postcard arrived.

Karina took an envelope out of her bag and handed it to me. I looked at the most ordinary postcard; on one side there was a photo: mountains, sea, blue sky with clouds. It was not possible to understand where the picture was taken; similar landscapes exist in many countries: Greece, France, Spain, Thailand, India... There are plenty of places on earth where there is a sea-ocean, a rock ridge and the sky. The message was extremely laconic: “Everything is fine. Gorty."

“Interesting,” Anya muttered.

“There were eight postcards,” Karina continued, “one per month, including April.” They arrive on the second of the month. The text is almost always the same: “Everything is fine. Gorty." Only twice did the fugitive deviate from the rules.

Kara placed a thin stack of mail in front of Anya. Popova began to sort through them.

- "Happy Birthday Mom. Gorty”, “Happy New Year, Mom. Gorty." The author of the messages cannot be called a graphomaniac.

I took the postcards from Anna, began to look at them and at the same time asked a question:

– For what reason did you come to us? Judging by the letter, your best friend rebelled. Galina Sergeevna put a lot of pressure on her daughter, and she eventually lost her thread. The younger Moiseenko does not want to communicate with the older one. It's an unpleasant story, but Hortense has the right to decide her own fate. Postcards testify to her good attitude towards her mother; probably, someday, having arranged her personal life, Gorty will restore contact with her. But now she clearly doesn't want it. I report to my superiors and have been ordered to look for Hortense. Maybe we'll find out where she lives. But, Karina, will your friend be happier when her hideout is discovered?

Edita reached for one postcard, took it, then stared at the computer.

“I tried to explain to Galina Sergeevna that she needs to leave her daughter alone, because she’s alive,” muttered Kara, “we need to wait until Gorty returns on her own.” Galina Sergeevna did not want to listen to me. She started searching. The police, as you know, did not listen to her. But private detectives willingly took on the job, but, unfortunately, they all turned out to be charlatans. My friend’s mother, thank God, after contacting the third detective, realized that home-grown Sherlock Holmeses were of no use, and stopped running to them. And what did we get? From August to September, Galya’s mother was ill; in September she began to look for a private owner. In October I hired one, he pretended to be active until December, took money, but did nothing. In January, Galina Sergeevna hired another detective, who in early February said that he needed to be paid more. I persuaded Moiseenko to give it up, she found a third one. He “worked” until March, took the money and ran away without giving any information. In April, Galina Sergeevna, having received another postcard, muttered:

“Gorty is alive, that’s the main thing.” You're probably right, Kara. I put too much pressure on my daughter, I always considered her a naive forget-me-not who would be offended by everyone. Hortensia will live alone, get bored and come.

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If I find her, it will completely destroy our relationship. All. Let's forget about detectives, they are all crooks.

I couldn't believe my ears. Mom Galya finally uttered sensible words. In April she did not start searching, she seemed to have calmed down. And in May the next postcard did not arrive, and Galina Sergeevna again fell into a panic. I tried to convince her that the message could simply have been lost at the post office, but she did not want to listen to reasonable arguments, she repeated: “Gorty has been kidnapped.” I told her: “No, she’s doing great.” But Galina Sergeevna did not calm down. She has several clients who remain from Soviet times. Moiseenko now doesn’t take money from them for throwing stones, grannies come to her, first they tell fortunes, then they drink tea and chat. They meet once every three to four months. One lady’s son is a deputy, I think his mother Galya asked him to find real detectives, not scammers. She didn't tell me anything. The first time she hid something from me. Well, yes, she knew how I felt about her initiative. On the other hand, what can I do? Galya's mother has a scrap of money, she has the right to spend it wherever she wants, even burn it. I don’t feel sorry for the money wasted, but for her health. So she came to you alone, so what? Now he can’t get off the couch. Okay, the driver brought me up to date, and I rushed here. With a bag full of medicines!

“I have whole cabinets of medicine,” said Bulya. - Sorry, I'll give you some advice. Show Galina Sergeevna to a good doctor, it seems to me that she has a problem with her lungs. I am a pathologist, but I started as a therapist, although I didn’t work for long.

“You are an excellent diagnostician,” noted Karina, “yes, she is sick, but we are persistently treating and hoping for the best.”

– Gorty knew that her mother was unwell and still ran away? – I clarified.

“No, Galina Sergeevna felt bad after she left, I think stress provoked the rapid development of the disease,” muttered Kara. – Please tell Moiseenko that you refuse to help her. That Gorty doesn't want to come home.

“I can’t do this,” I objected, “I have orders from my superiors to start searching.”

“I thought you were the biggest boss here,” Karina sighed. - How to find the main one?

I glanced sideways at Ivan, who sat indifferently, as if the conversation didn’t concern him at all.

– I’ll convey your wishes to our boss. Karina, in Hortensia’s letter there is a phrase: “I don’t like Igor Glebovich at all.” Who is he?

“The groom that Galina Sergeevna found for Gorty,” Khlebnikova explained. – A few months before her daughter’s escape, the mother announced that it was time for her beloved girl to get married. She, of course, decided to choose her son-in-law herself. I probably studied suitors for a long time and settled on Igor Glebovich Klebanov. I didn’t understand why Galina liked him so much. An ordinary doctor, there are not enough stars in the sky. She explained to me: “I’m not getting younger, my health is getting worse. What will happen to Gorty when I die? She is not independent. It must be left in good hands. Igor is a great option. He is the son of an old friend of mine, a decent man. I was rummaging through my notebook when I started thinking about my groom, and I realized: here he is! Klebanov is a doctor, he will inherit a share in the clinic from me and become the owner. Hortensia will like Igorek, and he will love her, how can you not love Gorty? I'm sure they will have a great relationship." But my friend, having learned what her mother was up to and having met her potential husband, fell into a panic.

- Kara! He's nasty, with sticky hands. I don't even want to sit next to him. Please talk to your mom, you are the only person she listens to. Maybe you can explain to her that I don’t want to marry Klebanov. He disgusts me.

I went to Galina Sergeevna, but she did not change her intentions.

– Family has nothing to do with love, it is the work of building a strong union in which everyone is happy: the husband, the wife, the children, and the elderly. The current generation of nonsense on the Internet has read enough and let’s shout: sex is the main thing, in your personal life you just need to get pleasure, if your partner does not satisfy you, change him for another. No, dear, family is work, patience, the ability to forgive. You need to be careful when choosing a life partner, and not grab the first piece from the table like a hungry dog. What lies on the edge is definitely not the best. Igor Glebovich is an ideal groom, believe me, I studied him from all sides. I am not eternal. The moment will come and I will leave. Who will take care of Gorty then? She is not adapted to life.

“And it’s true,” came from the door.

I turned my head, Galina Sergeevna was standing on the threshold.

My mobile phone rang and a message arrived from Edie: “Ask her for the last photo of your daughter.”

“Hortensia refused her engagement to Igor,” Moiseenko continued. – Klebanov was upset, he immediately fell in love with my daughter. Igor is well-mannered, intelligent, educated, and has never been married, because he...

“... a terrible bore,” Karina muttered under her breath. - When we drank tea together, he ranted about the right way of life, about how everyone should stop drinking, smoking, eating meat, and uttered elementary truths: “Tobacco use leads to lung cancer. Alcohol ruins your health." He said this with such an air, as if he was making great discoveries, and spoke incessantly. When Gorty reached for the cake, he grabbed her hand: “I wouldn’t recommend that. Very rich cream. This stuffing has a detrimental effect on the liver.” It seems that he has the habits of a tyrant; as soon as he saw a woman, he immediately tried to control her.

Galina Sergeevna looked reproachfully at her named daughter.

– Do you consider showing basic care despotism? The desire to protect a woman from a stupid act through authoritarianism? Personally, I call this behavior caring. And Klebanov is right, cream cake is not the best food.

– But it’s not right to give advice to the bride in the very first days of meeting? – Karina pouted. “Igor is disgusting, when I saw him, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the handsome guy’s underpants and socks were dirty!” Although he was neatly dressed and smelled of cologne.

Galina Sergeevna tapped her finger on the table.

“It’s clear now whose words Gorty repeated to me when she refused a successful marriage.” Did you really want your friend to be left alone?

Red spots crawled down Karina’s cheeks. I decided to intervene in the conversation.

- Lawless Heart. Your desire to arrange your daughter’s fate could become an incentive to escape. Do you happen to have a photograph of Hortense with you?

“The heart should listen to the voice of reason, and not the muttering of stupidity,” Galina snapped. – The best marriages are of convenience. The main thing is that the calculation is correct. A mother knows best what her unreasonable daughter needs. Yes, naturally, I have a lot of pictures of Gorty with me on my phone.

– Is it difficult for you to give me the phone? – Edita asked. – I’ll download the image.

- For what? – Moiseenko inquired vigilantly.

“To look for Gorty, you need to know what she looks like,” Anya smiled. – Although... you can look at it on social networks.

“She’s not there, I’ve already checked,” Dita announced.

Galina handed her the phone.

– My daughter did not use the Internet.

- Why? – Valery was sincerely surprised.

“I didn’t buy her a computer,” the nervous mother explained angrily, “I didn’t want my pure girl to see the dirt, all these terrible pictures and read nonsense.”

Galina

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Sergeevna pointed to Edita’s laptop.

“I also don’t know how to use the infernal machine, but I’ve heard a lot from my clients how terrible it is.” Sex! Violence!

“Well, sex is not always terrible,” Valery said quietly, “sometimes it’s even quite pleasant.”

I pushed the guy under the table with my foot, he instantly slammed his mouth shut. My phone beeped and a message arrived from Eddie.

- Wow! – I said against my will.

- What? – Moiseenko responded instantly. – Any news about Gorty?

I looked at her.

- No. Before we get started, you will need to fill out various paperwork. Agreement, for example. You will need a description of your daughter's clothes that you last saw her in, her habits, for example, what does she like to eat for lunch? Can you work with our employee?

“Yes,” Galina nodded. “I don’t believe Gorty ran away!” They stole her, after forcing her to write a farewell letter, and then sent me postcards every month.

I suppressed a sigh. The envelope, according to Karina, was lying on the table in her daughter’s room. Gorty allegedly went to visit Karina while Galina was taking a shower; there were no strangers in the apartment. No one took Hortense away by force. The girl would probably have screamed and the mother would have realized that something bad was happening. Just don’t tell me that the poor fellow was put to sleep with an injection and dragged away under the splash of water from the shower. How would Hortense write the note then? No, she wrote a message in advance, then lied about meeting Karina and ran away.

Edita stood up.

– Galina Sergeevna, let’s go to my office.

“Kara, get up,” the elderly lady ordered.

“It’s better for Mrs. Khlebnikova to stay,” I ordered.

Moiseenko asked:

– Some of the questions that Edita will ask you are very personal, so intimate that you will not want to answer them even in the presence of someone whom you consider almost a daughter.

“Go, Galina Sergeevna, alone,” Karina responded.

When Moiseenko and Edita disappeared into the corridor, Kara leaned over the table and grabbed my hand.

-Have you learned anything yet? Someone sent a message that surprised you, and therefore you removed Galina from the room under a plausible pretext?

- Sorry, Karina, this will be unpleasant for you. But we must show you a photograph of the body in which a credit card in the name of Hortensia Valentinovna Moiseenko was found,” I said.

“God,” Kara whispered, turning pale. - Well, no! Please! I don't want to watch.

“It is necessary for someone to identify the corpse,” Vatagin joined the conversation, “if you refuse, Galina Sergeevna will have to do it.”

- Oh no! – Karina was even more frightened. “She cannot bear the news of her daughter’s death.” But why do you need identification? There is a document! There is a photo in it.

“No,” Edya objected, “it’s a plastic card, they don’t have pictures.” It is necessary to make sure that the body found is actually Hortense.

“I understand that this is a very difficult procedure,” the psychologist spoke again, “but think about what it will be like for the poor mother if she sees Gorty’s corpse.”

“Okay,” Kara whispered, “let’s do it.”

“Valera, turn Edita’s laptop screen towards Karina,” I asked.

Krapivin fulfilled my request. Kara looked at the image for a while, then covered her eyes with her palm.

- This is not Hortense.

- Are you sure? – I clarified. – After death, a person’s appearance sometimes changes.

“It always changes,” Bull unexpectedly noted, “the soul flies away to God, a mortal shell remains on earth.” Naturally, the face becomes different, empty.

I was not surprised by the expert’s words; many doctors and pathologists believe in God. Gleb Valeryanovich, an employee of my former brigade, attends liturgy every Sunday at nine in the morning. And one day I accidentally saw a program with the participation of Natalya Petrovna Bekhtereva, academician, scientific director of the Institute of the Human Brain, a major neurophysiologist, whose works are studied all over the world. A young journalist, asking the scientist questions, at some point said:

“But you know for sure that there is no one there in heaven.”

The heroine of the program politely answered:

- Come on, I know for sure that God exists, our Lord is merciful and humane, that’s the only reason we still inhabit the Earth.

Karina exhaled sharply.

“I’m a doctor, I’ve seen corpses, I’m not afraid of them.” I was afraid to identify the body of my best friend, but pulled myself together. Yes, I'm sure there's another woman in the picture. It's hard to judge from a computer, but I think she's about the same age as Hortense, and her hairstyles are similar. But this is not Gorty. Thank God it's not her! Can I go to the toilet?

“Of course, I’ll accompany you,” Anna offered.

“No, thank you,” Karina refused, “I need to be alone for about five minutes.”

“As you leave the room, turn left, the last door along the corridor,” Popova explained.

Karina left.

– And who’s in the refrigerator? – asked Valery.

“Now the unknown woman,” I sighed, “is in the morgue at the Bratov hospital.” Died from an overdose of the drug “Psitomarin”?

“Wow, they did the toxicology,” Bull admired.

– When did she die? – Ivan asked.

“The body was found on Monday by employees of the Laska store,” Edita explained. “They came to work and saw a dead young woman on the porch.

“It’s unpleasant,” Krapivin winced.

“Yes, indeed,” Popova agreed.

- Were there clothes? – the boss asked.

Edita nodded.

– A white sundress made of thin fabric, ballet shoes on the feet, a scarf around the neck. Another pink bag, small, was lying nearby. Her sundress is straight up! In short, there’s nowhere, neckline up to the navel. The skirt is cut into ribbons! The girl probably seemed naked when she moved. She's an extreme sportswoman and didn't wear a bra or panties. Just look at the photo for yourself.

“Yeah,” the boss drawled, “well, well... the white handkerchief really touches me.” Why did she tie him? And generally speaking…

I was wary.

– What don’t you like about her things?

– Don’t you have any questions? – the boss narrowed his eyes.

I began to carefully study the photo.

- Not really. The outfit, of course, is revealing, to put it mildly, but now it’s fashionable to be naked and wear thin blouses without a bra. Many women wear microshorts with their entire butt hanging out.

“I’m looking at you and Anna, dressed almost identically,” Ivan Nikiforovich suddenly said, “jeans, pullovers, sneakers.” Is it so fashionable now? Don't women wear beautiful silk dresses these days? Well, the kind that makes your skirt flutter in the wind? And open-toed shoes too?

“It’s so cold outside,” Anna shivered, “not June, but January.”

“Come on,” Valery laughed, “seventeen degrees Celsius is not zero.”

“The weather is not so great,” I agreed, “it rained for two weeks.” You can’t run in ballet sandals, you’ll immediately get wet, sneakers are the most...

The continuation of the phrase got stuck in my throat.

“I figured it out,” the boss rejoiced.

- What? – Valery did not understand.

Alexander Viktorovich pointed to Edita’s laptop.

“The body was found early Monday morning. It rained that day.

“I went on Monday on business and regretted that I only took a light jacket, I should have taken a leather one,” Anya chimed in.

“I put on my autumn boots,” added Ivan.

“And the stranger is in a light sundress and ballet shoes,” I added. - Is it true

Page 9 of 16

“Request the autopsy report,” the profiler suddenly switched to me, “something is wrong here.”

“It’s so good, dear, that you found the time to come in,” Irina Leonidovna was delighted when she saw me on the threshold, “the pie is right out of the oven in ten minutes.” But Vanya hasn’t arrived yet, he’s stuck in a traffic jam. Why are you so pale? I’ll tell Vanya to stop burdening you with work, you have no face!

“It’s kind of murky,” I sighed, untying my sneakers.

-Will you tell me? – Rina whispered conspiratorially.

“Of course,” I promised, slipped my feet into my slippers and hurried to the bathroom.

Yes, yes, I have my own house shoes at the boss’s house. Irina Leonidovna, Ivan’s mother, bought me flip-flops from an expensive store, and I didn’t have the courage to admit that I prefer to run around the apartment barefoot. Irina Leonidovna is a wonderful woman, she cooks so deliciously that I can swallow her cooking with a fork. She always asks Ivan Nikiforovich and me about our affairs and often gives sensible advice. The boss’s mother knows how to look at problems from an unexpected angle, and I am amazed when I hear her comments. It was so simple, it was on the surface, why didn’t I notice it myself? Rina and I became friends, and I come to visit the boss with great joy. I immediately want to cool the ardor of those who decided that Ivan and I were having an affair. No! We're just friends. At work, neither my boss nor I advertise our friendly relationship, it’s not necessary. No one knows that we love to spend our rare free time together. And there is one more secret that we now share together. There is a rumor circulating around the offices that special teams were created by one very wealthy person, who also maintains the structure with his own funds. Among themselves, the people call the main leader Tsar, Emperor, Their Highness, and some call him Our Ghost. Why? No one has seen the mysterious person running the system, even the first and last name of the main boss is unknown. Our two bosses, Ivan Nikiforovich and Pyotr Stepanovich, also never came face to face with him. All instructions are given by the Tsar over the telephone. And, of course, people fantasize with all their might. Some believe that the organization was created by a certain group of people, others that we are actually subordinate to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, others believe that we serve in a secret unit of the FSB. No one gives an explanation. We are paid good money, we have the most modern equipment and highly qualified specialists. But when I found myself at Ivan Nikiforovich’s house for the first time, confused in the corridors of a spacious apartment, I accidentally found myself in a large office filled with computers, and I realized: here it is, the control panel for the planet of special teams. The mysterious Tsar, Emperor, Autocrat, leading the generals of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the leadership of the FSB, in general, everyone who, according to the employees, controls us, turned out to be Ivan Nikiforovich? At first I was scared out of my wits, I thought that I would now be kicked out of the system in disgrace. Although everyone knows: if you end up in a special brigade, there is no turning back. They will never even let you retire; at the age of ninety you will turn into a “sleeper” agent, you will doze peacefully in front of the TV, but if you are needed, a battle trumpet will play over your senile ear, and you will rush to its call, creaking with arthritic knees. But for my sake they can make an exception; not everyone manages to reveal the carefully guarded secret of the main boss.

Contrary to all my fears, Ivan did not get angry; on the contrary, we became friends.

- Tanya! – Rina shouted. -Did you drown in the washstand?

“No,” I answered, entering the dining room, “for starters: I won’t fit into it, my carcass will never squeeze through the drain hole.” I am fat! I need to eat less.

“Nonsense,” Rina snorted, “a woman must have beautiful shapes, otherwise she will look like a mop.” You can’t constantly go on a diet, it completely kills the nervous system. I eat whatever I want.

A sigh escaped my chest. Irina Leonidovna weighs forty-five kilos, she always puts a couple of spoons of food on her plate, no more. I can eat a truckload of deliciousness.

“Well, where is Vanya,” Rina fussed, “it was very unfortunate that he got into a traffic jam.” Well done, you showed up on time.

I decided to protect Ivan Nikiforovich.

- I was just lucky.

Irina Leonidovna went to the kitchen.

- Now I’ll sprinkle the casserole with Varnika and... Oh! No!

I hurried to her.

- What's happened?

Rina slapped her forehead with her palm.

- Unmemorable goat!

“Not at all,” I smiled.

“I went to the store in the morning, stared like a sheep at the new gate at the rack with spices, and drove home without buying the dumplings,” Irina complained to herself. “And without it, the casserole loses all its flavor.” If you don’t sprinkle some dumplings on the dish, your stomach won’t feel any joy from it.

- Trouble is easy to help. Now I’m going to the supermarket, since it’s in the next house,” I promised.

“Thank you,” Rina was delighted, “but please find some dumplings from India.” Don't take it from Greece, Spain, Africa. And be sure to make sure that it is chopped into small pieces, God forbid you buy ground...

Irina Leonidovna fell silent, then went into the hallway.

- I'll go myself. There are different varieties of Varnika, you will get confused. Which one do you use when cooking? Pink or yellow?

“No,” I admitted, “I heard about this spice for the first time from you.” What does she look like?

“For the varnish,” Rina muttered, pulling on her jacket, “I’ll bring it and you’ll see.”

“It’s raining there,” I tried to stop the boss’s mother, “explain to me in detail about this monitor, then I’ll buy what I need.”

“Varnik,” corrected Rina, “is nonsense, I’m not sugar, I won’t melt from water.” Better grate the cheese. I took a piece out of the refrigerator, but didn’t have time to grate it and, I admit, I hate this task, I’m always cutting my fingers. It’s a pity that you can’t find real Parmesan during the day with fire. I found cheese from Uruguay. To be honest, it doesn’t look like Parmesan, although it’s delicious. The smell, however, is not entirely familiar, but all other cheeses are not suitable for casserole. Vera Gavrilovna, my friend, bought an electric cheese grinder on the Internet. Brilliant device! You put a piece inside - and whack! You get a mountain of grated food. I dream about one like this. I asked Vanya to order it, but he, of course, forgot. That's it, she's gone! Grate the cheese, sprinkle it on top of the casserole and put it back in the oven. Understood?

“Of course,” I assured.

“Clever girl,” Irina Leonidovna did not forget to praise me. – The cheese is on the table, to the right of the sink. There are graters in the closet, you need the one that grinds the pork. Flew away!

Rina jumped out onto the stairs and slammed the door. I returned to the kitchen. Those who have met me for the first time know that cooking is not Mrs. Sergeeva’s hobby. It is believed that a woman must be able to cook. Perhaps, if she is the mistress of a large family, this is correct, but I live alone, I return home late, and, as a rule, eat either in our dining room or somewhere in the city. Why should I learn to cook chikhirtma and make Pozharsky cutlets? However, I have some skill in communicating with a stove. I got married twice and in my first marriage I tried to become a good housewife. I can cook chicken, rolled oats or buckwheat porridge, potatoes. I can fry eggs, and I’m also great at boiling water for tea and

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I deftly open yoghurts.

I walked up to the sink, looked to the left and immediately saw a not very large block of yellow cheese with a dark burgundy rind, weighing about two hundred grams. For some reason, it was not lying on a plate, but right on the grooved part of the sink, where washed glasses are usually placed. I took the cheese and smelled it. Galina Sergeevna is right, the aroma is not quite ordinary, I find it difficult to explain what it is, it seems to be the same as that produced by grapes. I returned the cheese to its place. Unfortunately, manufacturers are now adding flavorings and fillers everywhere, and ordinary products are becoming rare. I recently wanted to eat the simplest curd cheese. There were several shelves with them in the supermarket. I saw cheesecakes with jam, condensed milk, nuts, muesli, chocolate filling, puffed rice, raisins, wild berries, pieces of exotic fruits... There was everything except the simple cheesecake without any frills, which I have loved since childhood. The cheese from Uruguay, which smells distinctly of grapes, didn’t strike me; I’m sure it comes in different flavors.

I started opening the cabinets, and in one I found a row of graters, neatly arranged by Rina according to size. Which one should you rub the polish on? And what is this? A root vegetable like a carrot? Afraid of making a mistake, I went online and found the answer. The text appeared on the phone screen: “Porkat is the root of a non-existent magical plant, repeatedly mentioned in the books of the science fiction writer Volynsky-Gorov. With the help of rubbed foam, the heroes of his books blow up stone walls. Each warrior from the Battle of the Planets series always has a little porkat and a grater with him to chop the root like carrots.” I put the phone in my pocket and giggled. This means that Irina Leonidovna is fond of reading science fiction novels, but I had no idea about this. Next time I’ll bring her a few books from my favorite author as a gift. I took the desired grater from the shelf and began to diligently move the yellow block along it. Things were not going well. Rina mentioned that Uruguayan Parmesan is a little soft, but I found it almost stone-like. It’s good that Rina didn’t get hold of authentic cheese; it’s probably even more difficult to deal with. Cursing through my teeth, I went through the grater several times, and eventually completed the task. And then my cell phone rang.

“Tanyusha,” Irina Leonidovna whispered, “I’m standing at the checkout.” I bought everything. How are you? Did you forget about the cheese?

“Rubbed it,” I reported.

– I forgot to warn you that you need a grater...

“Take a carrot,” I interrupted happily.

“You know how to grind powder,” Irina Leonidovna admired.

I really wanted to make the best impression on her, so I replied:

- Certainly.

-Can you boil three hard-boiled eggs? – Irina asked. – Only in a microwave oven. Take the casrul.

I tried my best not to laugh. Irina Leonidovna has literate speech, but even an intelligent person has strange words in stock. My grandmother often said: “Tanya, don’t waste all the soup, it’s made for the family.” The delightful verb “hamster”, meaning to eat greedily, in a hurry and a lot, was apparently invented by the old woman herself. And he stayed with me forever. The harmful grandmother has long been gone from this world. And I, running home after midnight with the pizza I bought on the way, cut off a large piece, start chewing it and sternly say to myself: “Tanya! Don’t hamster all the pizza.” And Rina has the word “kasrul” in her vocabulary. I wonder who in her circle called a saucepan that way in childhood?

“In the microwave oven,” Irina repeated, “not on the stove.”

- Why? – I was surprised.

“Over the fire, the eggs turn out elastic, the whites are slightly rubbery,” the chef’s mother began to explain, “and the yolk will crumble.” In the oven they will become tender and creamy. Hurry up, Tanyusha! Place the eggs and immediately pour the cheese onto the casserole. I got stuck in line. There is only one cash register for the entire store.

“I’ll do everything,” I assured.

I know very well that you can’t put metal dishes in a microwave oven, so I took a glass saucepan out of the cabinet, poured water into it, put eggs in it and thought about it. What time should I set? Is three minutes enough? No, better than five to be sure. I don’t want to see the disappointment on Rina’s face when she begins to peel the shell and realizes that she has soft-boiled eggs in her hands.

The microwave in Irina Leonidovna’s kitchen hangs above the countertop, to the right of the separately installed oven. Turning on the stove, I opened the oven, pulled out a pan with a delicious-smelling casserole, generously sprinkled grated cheese on top, returned the dinner to its place, wanted to see how much time was left for the eggs to cook, and then there was an explosion!

I automatically grabbed the board lying on the table, covered my head with it and jumped into the doorway. What's happening? Did a bomb go off in the boss's apartment? Or... Another thought did not have time to come to mind, once again a deafening bang-bang was heard! The microwave door swung open, something incomprehensible flew out, slammed into a picture depicting two cats cooking cutlets, punched a hole in the paper and disappeared. A second later, a saucepan flew out of the stove and rushed straight towards me. I squealed and sat down. There was a roar behind me. I was trained many times on how to behave in times of serious danger. And in classes with an instructor, I always act clearly, confidently, according to the protocol. But no one has yet bothered to explain to me what to do if a crazed glass container is flying around the room.

I crawled under the oak table and closed my eyes, listening to the ringing and knocking, then there was silence for a while and a well-known voice was heard:

I carefully leaned out of my hiding place, saw that Ivan was standing in the kitchen, and something resembling a ping-pong ball was flying towards him from the right, and I yelled:

The chef rushed to the high sideboard and in the blink of an eye screwed himself into the gap between it and the wall. The “ball” flew into the kitchen area, and the sound of breaking dishes was immediately heard from there. I hid under the table again. What's happening? Is this an attack? Did strangers enter the apartment? Is the bandits' visit connected with the Moiseenko case? Or with some other investigation that is not carried out by my team? Are they hunting me or Ivan Nikiforovich? Nobody knows that I spend my free time with my boss, but finding out where I sometimes go in the evenings is not at all difficult.

I carefully lifted the tablecloth and heard a growing whistle...

- Get down! – Ivan shouted.

Irina Leonidovna fell to the floor as if knocked down. I lowered the edge of the linen tablecloth, but he immediately moved. Ivan’s mother crawled under the table.

“It’s like typhoon Maria,” she whispered. - In the dining room, the lamp on the console and all sorts of trinkets that were clustered around it were broken, the floor was wet in places, strange white and yellow crumbs around, fragments were scattered...

“It looks like there was an explosive device in the microwave oven,” I answered. “I put in the eggs and it worked.”

“There was nothing there in the morning,” muttered Irina Leonidovna, “although... I went out for a couple of hours, went to the market, looked into the bakery...

“It won’t take long for an experienced person to plant explosives,” I added, barely audible.

“We have serious security and a door that cannot be broken into,” Irina objected, “and the windows are impregnable.” The house is completely safe. Vanya correctly assesses the risk of his work. Therefore, our apartment is akin to a bunker.

– Hack

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“Everything is possible,” I sighed.

“People who can cope with our locks and security system must be megapros,” Irina muttered, “and there is no fire.” There was just an explosion. Usually it burns afterwards. Strange.

“A pot of water was flying around the dining room and kitchen,” I shuddered, “and what looked like small white balls.” You are right, it is an unusual situation: the dishes were not blown apart in the explosion.

Perplexity flashed in Irina Leonidovna’s eyes.

- A pot of water? Where did she come from?

“I boiled eggs at your request,” I explained.

Irina Leonidovna began to laugh.

- Tanya! You took...

“Glass saucepan,” I interrupted. “I poured water into it, put in the eggs, and set the timer for five minutes.”

Rina, covering her mouth with her hand, jumped out from under the table.

- No no! It’s dangerous there,” I was scared, “we need to call the sappers.”

“Nothing,” said Irina Leonidovna and burst out laughing.

Not understanding what fun she found in what had happened, I also crawled out.

- Vanya, these are eggs! – the mother explained, choking with laughter.

- Which? – the chef asked a brilliant question, sandwiched between the wall and the buffet.

“Chicken,” Rina clarified. – Tanyusha, you can’t cook them in the microwave! They explode there, which is what happened, several eggs fell apart into trash, the rest began to fly through the air.

I digested the information for a second, then looked at the broken lamp, turned into crumbly porcelain figurines, and began to justify myself:

– You asked to cook the eggs in the oven.

Irina Leonidovna did not deny:

– Yes, but she warned me that I needed to take the kasrul.

I pointed to the fragments that littered the floor:

- This is what's left of the saucepan!

“It can’t be,” Irina Leonidovna blinked, “the casrul is plastic.”

It was my turn to be surprised.

– There were only metal pans in the cabinet, there was only one glass one...

Rina hurried to the kitchen area.

- So these are pots. And I talked about kasrul. Here she is!

Rina took a white plastic chicken figure from a shelf hanging near the refrigerator and lifted its upper part. I saw six indentations on the bottom, Irina Leonidovna began to explain:

“Pour a little water in here, put the eggs in, and close it.” Like this!

Rina lowered the lid, and I saw the inscription above the wing: “Magic kasrul.”

– Why such a stupid name? – that’s all I could ask.

Irina Leonidovna threw up her hands.

- Don't know. Maybe similar to a saucepan? There was an explosion, but there was no bomb, the bandits did not enter the house. Vanya, get out. However, you can’t be called brave; you huddle in a shelter and can’t get out.

“Let me sweep up the fragments,” I suggested.

Rina pulled on thick kitchen mittens.

– Let them sit for now, otherwise the casserole will sit out and lose its flavor. Now I’ll sprinkle some dumplings on it and we’ll enjoy it. Vania! Why don't you come out?

“It’s quiet here, it’s good,” the boss muttered, “it’s cozy.” I’d rather have dinner standing, I’ll fit in more.

Irina and I looked at each other and said in unison:

- Stuck!

“No, no, no,” the boss was indignant, “I’m just psychologically tired of the spacious rooms, they are extremely uncomfortable.” Every person needs to find a place where...

“Give me your hand,” the mother ordered, approaching him.

Ivan obeyed. Irina began to pull him, but could not pull him out. I decided to connect to her, and grabbed the boss by the other hand.

“One, two, three,” Rina commanded.

I pulled Ivan as hard as I could.

- Oh! It hurts,” he complained.

- How did you squeeze in there? – I asked.

“Quickly,” answered the chief, “and without any difficulty.”

Irina Leonidovna took a couple of steps back.

– At the moment of stress, Vanya shrank, and when he found himself between the wall and the sideboard, he unclenched. The effect of a rubber ball in a bottle.

“Exactly,” I was delighted, “in the second class the teacher showed us a glass vessel with a very narrow neck.” There was a ball inside. None of the children understood how he was placed there. The teacher explained: “The ball is elastic, deforms easily and therefore passed through the throat. Now it has taken on its usual shape; it is impossible to get it out except by breaking the flask.”

“Well, wow,” Rina admired, “I was told the same thing in class at one time.” Everything is stable for our teachers, and that’s great. I conclude: Vanya’s freedom can be restored only by breaking either the sideboard or the wall. Dear, the choice is yours, decide what to destroy?

“Why so radical,” the chief panted, “you can move it away.”

“A wall or a buffet, please specify,” Irina demanded.

“Buffet,” the boss sighed, “there will be difficulties with the wall.”

“Great,” the hostess was delighted, “the main thing is to understand how to act.” Tanyusha, put your hands here, I’ll go there, and one, two, three...

I pushed the sideboard, judging by the grunting that Irina Leonidovna made, she did the same thing. But the oak structure did not move even a millimeter.

“If you empty the shelves, it will become much easier,” Ivan advised. - Mom, what is stored there?

“At the top there is a silver service for twenty-four people, eight candlesticks made of the same metal, in the lower compartment there are linen tablecloths, napkins, behind glass, you can see for yourself, glasses, dishes for cakes and pastries, fish, cold cuts,” Rina began to list monotonously, “ I forgot what’s behind the top doors, but it’s full of everything. Vanya, Tanyusha and I will need a year to get all this out. Try to exhale, maybe you will become thinner, turn sideways. Maybe you can get down on all fours and crawl out?

The chief began to sniffle.

– I definitely won’t do the latter.

“We need a lever,” I realized, “let’s put it under the legs, press it...

“And the buffet will tip over,” the boss got scared.

“We don’t need leverage,” Rina sang, “we need a big guy.” Vanya, what is the name of the mountain from the second apartment? The guy looks intimidating, but he is friendly and always says hello.

“Konstantin Mikhailovich,” the son prompted.

“No,” Rina objected, “I remember, he’s Kirill Maksimovich.”

“Absolutely Konstantin Mikhailovich,” the boss insisted.

“Kirill Maksimovich,” repeated Irina Leonidovna, who belonged to the class of active debaters. - Kirill Maksimovich. What does it smell like?

I twitched my nose.

- Casserole.

“An unfamiliar aroma,” Rina was surprised, “I’ve never smelled it before.”

“It’s from the cheese,” I suggested, “it smelled like grapes.”

“It’s strange,” said the hostess, “Uruguayan cheese had a different smell.”

“Some dishes acquire a specific taste from heat treatment,” Ivan joined the conversation.

“Darling, we were talking about the scent,” his mother corrected. - Oh! Casserole! It will sit in the oven and become inedible. I don't care what the name of the giant from the second apartment is. I'll bring him here now.

Rina rushed into the hallway, but I managed to catch her hand.

– Irina Leonidovna, I’ll go for help.

“You don’t know your neighbor,” the hostess objected.

“You’re not on close terms with him either,” I smiled, “better sprinkle the funnel on the casserole for now, otherwise it will spoil.”

“Varnikoy,” corrected Rina, “yes, you’re right.” Second apartment. Don't get confused.

“I’m not good at mathematics, but I know numbers up to ten well,” I assured.

The door of the apartment on the second floor was opened by a tall, frail guy with glasses.

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would your brother help us?

“I’m my parents’ only son,” the man interrupted me in an unexpectedly thick bass voice for such a skinny body.

- Well... maybe then your... uh... dad? – I continued carefully and heard:

– Father and mother left this world a long time ago.

– Is there any man in your apartment? – I started to lose patience.

“Yes,” the stranger calmly confirmed.

I was happy, now I will see the “mountain”.

- He is at home?

-Can you call him?

- No need.

I shook my head.

- Vice versa. I really need it.

“There’s no need to call, I’m already here, in front of you,” the uncle explained, “I live alone.”

It became clear that the conversation had to start anew.

- Hello, Konstantin Mikhailovich, please help Ivan, he is stuck between the wall and the buffet, he feels bad there.

- Yes. Certainly. Wait a second,” the owner of the apartment quickly agreed and, without closing the door, walked along the long corridor into the depths of his apartment.

I looked after him. In my understanding, a mountain is someone two meters tall, weighing half a centner. The neighbor's height is in perfect order; he is taller than many, but he does not have much muscle mass. It’s strange that Rina considers Konstantin a strongman.

“Ready,” the neighbor said briefly, returning.

I was surprised again. Why did he take the suitcase with him?

When we entered the dining room, Konstantin asked loudly:

– Who needs help?

I pointed to Ivan.

- He is there.

The neighbor approached the buffet.

- Good evening. Can you extend your right arm?

“Now,” the boss puffed, “here.”

“I’ll roll up your sleeve, don’t worry,” the neighbor continued.

I sat down on a chair. However, it’s strange, why does the strongman need the boss’s bare arm?

Konstantin put the suitcase on the table, opened the lid, took out a tonometer and began to wrap the cuff on Ivan’s forearm with the words:

– Not very convenient, of course, but you have to work in different conditions.

I didn't know how to react to what was happening. Irina Leonidovna leaned out of the kitchen, looked at the neighbor I had brought and sang:

- Tanyusha, I need your help.

I hurried to the call.

- Who is this? – the boss’s mother inquired in a whisper.

“Mountain,” I answered briefly.

- No! That one is completely different,” Rina objected, “he looks like a saber-toothed bear.”

“Konstantin Mikhailovich opened the door and said that he lives alone,” I explained.

“One hundred and ten to seventy,” the neighbor announced loudly, “slightly low, but it’s not scary.” Now hold the thermometer.

Irina and I went out to the dining room.

“Sorry, Kirill Maksimovich,” said the hostess.

And at the same time I started:

- Konstantin Mikhailovich, why...

Then we both fell silent. The boss laughed.

- Excuse me, we’ve been living in the same building for years, but we haven’t met. My name is Ivan Nikiforovich. My mother Irina is at the table, next to her is Tatyana.

– How should I contact you? – I asked. - Konstantin Mikhailovich?

“No,” the neighbor answered, taking disposable gloves out of his suitcase.

- Yeah! – Irina rejoiced. - I'm right! You are Kirill Maksimovich!

“Boris Petrovich,” the man introduced himself, “a herbalist, a specialist in maintaining and prolonging life.”

“Ah-ah,” Irina said, embarrassed, “sorry.”

“Well,” the doctor was not offended, “you probably confused me with Kirsan Makhmetovich, he is a champion, a weightlifter, now a coach, lives in the second apartment.”

“Wait, that’s where you live,” I was confused, “I just rang the doorbell, you opened it.”

“No, Tatyana,” Boris objected, “you went down to the second floor and went to the apartment alone.” No one lives on the ground floor, it’s just an entrance. The second apartment is on the third floor.

I sat down on a chair. Tanyusha, you are great. First, she stuffed a saucepan with eggs into the microwave, caused an explosion, and then, without looking at the apartment number, she brought in not a weightlifter, but a frail doctor to move the cabinet. And she told him a couple of times: “Ivan Nikiforovich is feeling bad.” What I meant was that it is inconvenient for the boss to stand, squeezed into a narrow space. But the doctor took my words in his own way, did not understand that he was called as, so to speak, the driving force, decided that Ivan needed medical help, and therefore measured his blood pressure and temperature.

“I have such a delicious casserole for dinner,” Irina said frequently, “a huge baking sheet, the three of us can’t finish it, and we can’t leave it for tomorrow.” Let's invite the weightlifter Kurban Methodievich, he will help us solve the problem, and then we'll all have dinner together and make friends at the same time.

“Kirsan Makhmetovich left for the competition,” the doctor said melancholy, “I gave him vitamins for his athletes.” As for me, I eat with great pleasure, because I’m hungry. It's very nice of you to offer me dinner. Ivan Nikiforovich, how long have you been feeling the desire to hide away from life’s difficulties?

“Mmm,” the boss hummed.

“Tatiana was right to be concerned,” the doctor continued, “as far as I can judge from a quick examination: your physical condition does not inspire concern.” But the mental one, hmm. When a man of your age and build squeezes into a gap where even a small dog cannot fit, this suggests a schizophrenic-depressive, casual-verbal-mental transcendental state of auto-distress and an anxious-communicative disorder of self-unawareness of mental comfort.

- What? – Rina opened her mouth.

“In short, your son has Kavalerov syndrome,” Boris said. – My last name is Kavalerov, I discovered this disease. I am developing a treatment for it. Created...

I decided to clarify the situation:

– Our pan of eggs exploded, everyone thought there was a bomb in the microwave, Rina and I hid under the table, and Ivan somehow squeezed himself in and couldn’t get out.

“You shouldn’t watch TV in the evening,” the doctor sighed, “it leads to alarmingly manic affectivity, brain aging and inexplicable fears.” Why and who did you need to plant the bomb? You are simple people, you don’t do anything serious. In addition to traditional medical education, I also have a diploma as a psychological profiler, I see people like an ultrasound machine. For example, you are Tatyana, a cook. It’s easy to come to this conclusion after seeing you from afar. Your mother is a retired ballerina, she doesn’t know how to cook, that’s why you chose this profession, you really wanted to eat as a child. And your husband is a journalist.

Irina started giggling. And I smiled stupidly. I hope that profiler Vatagin, a member of my new team, is not like Boris Petrovich, who managed to hit the mark in all cases. I am not Irina’s daughter, Ivan and I are not a married couple. And Boris didn’t guess correctly with professions, although I can understand why he was wrong. He turned me into a cook because of my monumental figure. He considered Irina to be a retired ballerina because of her slimness, which was rare for a lady of her age. Although Mr. Soul Expert is right about one thing, as a child I was always not averse to snacking, and even now I don’t complain about the lack of appetite. But why is Ivan a journalist? The same question came to Rina’s mind:

– Why did you decide that Vanya was a correspondent?

“They will crawl into any crevice, they are very persistent,” the doctor explained his train of thought. – Now think about who could be harmed by the most ordinary family? Why blow you up? Would you like me to teach you how to do special exercises and you will stop being afraid of anything?

“We should move the buffet,” Rina asked.

“Good idea,” the doctor agreed, “we need to

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eliminate the possibility of cramming into too narrow spaces in the house. Think correctly. Move the furniture aside, and the patient will understand: there is nowhere to hide.

“Ivan is healthy,” Irina objected, “he’s just stuck.”

- Denial! - the doctor exclaimed. – It is difficult for relatives to immediately accept the illness of a family member. Everyone has the same reaction. It `s naturally. I can handle the problem today. But only today. In the future it is necessary...

“Thank you,” I was delighted, “even though you are not a weightlifter, but if we join forces...

“Of course,” the doctor didn’t let me finish, he pulled out a huge syringe with a needle as thick as my finger from his suitcase and, before Rina and I had time to react, he stuck it in Ivan’s shoulder with lightning speed. The chef screamed and jumped out into the middle of the dining room.

- Hooray! – Rina shouted. - Karen Mansurovich! You are a genius! I'm bringing a casserole. Sit down at the table.

“I don’t feel like having dinner,” the boss muttered, rubbing his hand. – What medicine did you give me, Boris Petrovich?

The doctor handed Ivan a piece of paper.

- Vanya, will you refuse my casserole? – Rina gasped.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong,” the boss assessed, handing the leaflet to the doctor. - Well, mom, of course, I’ll eat it clean.

We sat down at the table, Rina sighed sadly.

“I don’t understand why, but it didn’t turn out to be an appetizing crust.” Tanyusha, have you rubbed the entire block?

“Not a piece left,” I assured.

“Mom, you cook like magic,” Ivan praised her.

“There is no beautiful crust,” Rina said sadly.

“Forgive me for my directness, but in food the main thing is not the appearance, but the taste,” Ivan laughed and popped a large piece of casserole into his mouth.

After him, Boris did the same, but I hesitated. The dish Rina prepared smelled strongly, I wouldn’t say it was disgusting, but I didn’t have the desire to try it.

- Well, how? – inquired Irina Leonidovna. - Vanya, why are you silent?

The chief jumped up and ran out of the room. Boris Petrovich grabbed a paper napkin, pressed it to his mouth and rushed after Ivan.

-What's wrong with them? – Rina was surprised and tried her work.

Before the fork was in her mouth, she jumped and rushed to the kitchen, from there a splash of water was immediately heard, then Irina Leonidovna shouted:

- Tanyusha! What kind of cheese did you grate?

I went to the sink.

- The one you ordered. It lay here, on the grooved part, a yellow block with a burgundy crust.

Irina rested her hands on the marble tabletop.

- Oh, I can’t! Tanyusha! I warned you: the cheese is on the table to the right of the sink. Where is our ribbed part?

“On the left,” I muttered.

Rina started laughing.

- Now look where you need to. The cheese lies quietly on a plate.

I turned my head. Indeed, I see a rectangular piece wrapped in film.

– Didn’t it bother you that the Uruguayan parmesan was just lying on the sink, without packaging? – Irina was having fun. – Didn’t the strange smell surprise him?

“Well...” I mumbled, “the aroma of grapes... these berries are often served with a cheese plate... What did I grate?”

Rina burst out laughing.

- Soap! I bought it this morning to try, I was tired of the liquid one, I decided to try something new.

I backed away.

- Can't be! It looked like cheese! Can't tell the difference.

“The soap is made specifically for washing dishes,” Irina said, bending over with laughter, “the producers decided: it would be funny to design it like a piece of edam!” Oh, I can't! We haven't had such a fun evening in a long time! First, the saucepan with eggs exploded, then Vanya got stuck, then this doctor, creepy funny... And soap instead of cheese! Ah, tears flowed from my eyes. Sorry, Tanyusha, I'll be right back, just to powder my nose.

Irina Leonidovna ran away. I stood for a second, looking at the cheese, then hurried into the hallway and began to put on my sneakers. The delicate Irina Leonidovna did not mention that all this unbridled fun happened thanks to Mrs. Sergeeva. It’s time to sink into the ground out of embarrassment because of your own stupidity.

- Where are you going? – Ivan was surprised, going out into the hall.

“Home,” I muttered, “get up early tomorrow, meeting at nine in the morning.”

The boss didn't stop me.

“I’ll walk you to the car.”

We walked out of the entrance together, I got into the jeep, slammed the door and rolled down the driver's door window.

- Till tomorrow.

Ivan waved his hand at me.

– Tanya, I have a proposal for you.

I started the engine.

– I’m listening.

“Marry me,” the boss said.

Believe me, I was ready to hear anything, but not this phrase, so I blurted out in surprise:

- I am fat!

The boss chuckled.

– You just have muscle mass acquired as a result of constant exercise. And secondly, what difference does it make what the scales show? I want to take you as my wife, and not make you a prima ballerina. Think about it, don’t rush to answer.

Ivan Nikiforovich turned around and ran to the entrance. I drove out onto the avenue and rushed forward. Marry the boss? Yes, tonight broke all records in terms of surprises.

“I think I should start,” said Bull when everyone sat down around the table.

“Okay, get started,” I agreed.

“Ivan Nikiforovich is not here,” Anna noted.

“He manages several teams,” I explained, “and will not be able to constantly come to our work meetings.” What interesting things did you find, Lyubov Pavlovna?

Buhl rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“We remember that at the door of the Laska store, an employee who came to work earlier than everyone else found the body of a woman. He called the police, who turned out to be excellent bunglers or elementary lazy people. The guys sent the deceased to the morgue and forgot about her. In the bag found next to the body, there was a credit card with her first and last name on it, but no one bothered to inform Galina about her daughter’s death.

“And it’s good that the police turned out to be slobs,” Anya made a noise, “thanks to their irresponsibility, Galina Sergeevna did not get stressed.” Although, of course, this is a complete disgrace! Well, how can you work like that! With complete indifference and a disregard for people.

“This doesn’t surprise me,” Valery drawled, “I saw enough of everyone when I worked on the ground.” Sometimes they won’t even check the corpse’s pockets, but there is a passport. The body will be taken to the morgue, the clothes will be handed over to the warehouse, and the deceased will be registered as an unknown person. It’s good if the relatives are meticulous, they start running everywhere with the photograph, and some orderly identifies the brought client. Otherwise, the poor fellow will rest together with other unidentified people, and the family will not know that he is dead.

“Cause of death: heart attack due to an overdose of the drug Psitomarin,” continued Buhl. – This antidepressant has not been purchased by Russia for a long time, for a number of reasons; it has a lot of side effects, ranging from an uncontrollable increase in appetite to a high risk of developing a heart attack or stroke. It is not recommended to take all medications with alcohol. But there are people who don’t care about the doctor’s instructions or the manufacturer’s instructions; after swallowing a pill, they immediately turn to alcohol. The body's reaction can be unpredictable. For some, alcohol changes the effect of the drug towards excitement, while for others, on the contrary, it makes them sleepy. Some people lose all the effect of taking the drug: you drank it, but after a glass of vodka it did not work. A kind of lottery

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you don’t know which ticket you’ll pull out. But with Psitomarin, almost everyone has the same situation: you pour any alcohol into your stomach, it falls on the pill, and turn out the lights. The antidepressant becomes many times more powerful, the person quickly falls asleep. And then, as the Lord God pleases. Some, after snoring for a day, wake up experiencing a feeling similar to a severe hangover. Others end up in the hospital, they are pumped out, but some cannot be saved. Due to the extremely sharp reaction of “Psitomarin” with “fire water” they stopped purchasing it from us. Our people consider vodka a panacea for all ills; they treat colds, flu, diarrhea with “white” vodka, and even if they are in a bad mood, God himself simply ordered them to knock over the glass. Therefore, Psitomarin cannot be found in pharmacies now. But what is not in the pharmacy can be easily found on the Internet, they will sell you anything there. A characteristic sign of Psitomarin poisoning is a dark blue border around the mouth, and in our deceased it is clearly visible. In this girl’s body they discovered the presence of “Psitomarin”, equal to five single doses, and a large amount of a cocktail that people call “Sea Foam”. One serving contains sixty milliliters of vodka, lemon juice, sugar syrup, raw egg white and several ice cubes. The mixture is whipped to form a foam, from which the cocktail gets its name.

“The unknown woman swallowed the drug and started lighting it,” Anna winced, “very stupid.”

Lyubov Pavlovna stood up and went to the board hanging on the wall.

“I can say that nothing was forced or poured into her. She voluntarily took the medicine and began to empty glass after glass herself. But! The taste of vodka in “Sea Foam” is not felt at all; lemon juice, sugar syrup and whipped egg whites perfectly mask its taste. A woman could drink the mixture, having no idea that one serving contained sixty milliliters of forty degrees.

“Someone saw her take out the blister and, knowing about the drug’s reaction to alcohol, began to treat her to cocktails,” Valery suggested. - We have a murder.

“We can’t say this for sure yet,” I cooled Krapivin’s ardor.

“Wait, let me finish,” asked Bull. “The autopsy at the morgue was a botch.” An intern worked with the corpse. When I pointed out a lot of mistakes made during the research, they sang a song to me about low salaries, that professionals go to private funeral structures, where they earn many times more, and with the unknown, everything was clear. A pronounced border around the mouth indicated the use of Psitomarin along with alcohol. The chief dissector glanced at the deceased, realized that she had mixed an antidepressant with vodka, told the trainee: “Practice on a simple case,” and went off to do more interesting things. What didn't the student find?

Bull straightened up.

“He didn’t understand that the deceased gave birth about a year ago. But this is not the most interesting thing. Edita, give us a photo.

The large screen on the wall brightened, the expert took the pointer.

- Teeth. There is none of them.

- At all? – Alexander Viktorovich asked with disbelief.

Buhl pointed with a light beam on her jaw.

– Do you see the white marks? These are implants; they serve as the basis for bridges. Not long ago, a woman had all her premolar molars removed, titanium roots were immediately installed in their place, and then crowns were screwed on. The dentist who built all this needs to have his hands torn off. Probably took a ton of money, but did it somehow. This beauty lasts for two, three, or maybe less years.

“Stop,” I commanded, “I installed the implants myself, I have three of them.” I asked the doctor to install them in one visit, but Arkady Zalmanovich refused. In his opinion, this cannot be done. I went to Temkin for three months. And this unfortunate woman has ten iron pins, which, in your opinion, were installed right away?!

“Your doctor is a responsible person,” said Anya, “look on the Internet, there are a lot of advertisements there: “We will install any number of implants in a day.” Some people don’t care about the patient, the main thing is to make money. Lyubov Pavlovna, you just said...

“If possible, without a middle name,” the pathologist winced, “Bulya is better, but Lyuba can also be used as a first name.” It is incorrect to emphasize that you are much younger than me.

“Sorry,” Anechka responded non-confrontingly, “you, Bulya, accused the hospital dissectors of inattention, but look, they took all the pictures.”

“Of course,” Lyuba chuckled, “this is my job.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” I was surprised. - When did you have time?

“I was working on the corpse at night, took it last night,” the expert explained. “The head of the hospital morgue almost died of fear when he saw a permit for the removal of unidentified remains, signed by his supreme deity sitting there,” the expert pointed to the ceiling. “I didn’t know where to hit the floor with my forehead in front of me.” Working in a special team is a pleasant thing, I just stuttered, and Ivan Nikiforovich organized the necessary document with beautiful autographs.

“Yes, that’s true,” I nodded, “the boss has unlimited powers.”

“And he’s handsome,” Anya giggled.

Lyuba knitted her eyebrows, but did not stop Popova.

“Her teeth, or rather the lack thereof, didn’t surprise me.” Some people already have nothing but stumps in their mouths at the age of twenty. But how to establish the girl’s identity?

– Difficulties identifying the corpse? – Ivan’s voice suddenly rang out.

I shuddered and didn’t notice him enter the room.

“I’m already working,” Edita answered, “I’m comparing her photos with photographs of the missing.”

“But you can take fingerprints and do a DNA analysis,” Valery reminded.

“I’m digging in all respects,” Edya nodded. – Buhl took DNA, but so far there is no similarity in the databases. If the deceased has not taken a test before, we are in trouble. There will be nothing to compare the sample with. And the fingers are a bummer. There is none of them.

- Why not? - I did not understand.

“The papillary lines were broken using a laser,” Lyuba explained, “new technologies.” The skin pattern on the pads is eliminated using the device. Previously, the underworld burned fingers with fire, acid, and cut them with a razor, but scars remained, looking at which it immediately became clear: something was wrong with this person. And now the laser turns loops and arcs into a mess, leaving not the slightest trace of the operation. Of course, when you take the prints, you understand that they were deliberately deformed. But there are no traces! The pads look untouched; it is impossible to prove that they have been exposed. They say to the person: “Hello, dear, why did you fix your fingers?” And he answered: “I don’t understand the question, I was born like this.” Add here facial plastic surgery, documents under a different name, and oops! The murderous maniac rapist has disappeared. Instead, a respectable citizen appeared. All that remains is the DNA test; it cannot be faked. But if they didn’t take him before, then that’s a bummer. I will repeat what Edey has already said: there will be nothing to compare the sample with.

I looked at Ivan.

– Extracted teeth and redone papillary lines. They wanted to hide the identity of the unknown person.

– Someone must look for the girl from the morgue! – Popova objected. - She has a child.

- And what? – I asked gloomily. “We don’t know if he’s alive.” All we know is that the stranger gave birth.

“About a year ago,” Bulya clarified again, “there was a caesarean section.” The baby could have died or been given away to be fostered.

– No one has filed a missing person report for a young woman in the last two weeks.

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submitted,” Edita announced, “and the program did not find any similarity from the photo in the database. I wouldn't count on DNA either.

“The body was dumped near the Laska store,” I remembered. – Edita, can you tell me where he is and what he sells?

“Women’s clothing in the mid-price category,” Bulochkina quickly found the answer, “on their website it is written: “The best elite collections in Europe.” You take three things, you get the fourth with a fifty percent discount.” There are probably a lot of buyers there, the location is very good, there is a large office center, a clinic, a cinema, and several cafes nearby. Hmmm, they clearly didn’t intend to hide the corpse. And, judging by the light clothes and ballet shoes, which are inappropriate in this June, the body was brought to the store from somewhere.

- Why exactly there? – I was surprised. “They could have thrown it anywhere.”

- Maybe she was killed in the neighboring houses? – Krapivin suggested.

“Usually criminals try to hide a corpse, but here everything is exactly the opposite,” Anna noted.

“I would like to finish,” Bulya frowned. “The deceased has very strange bruises on her legs and calves. I can’t yet imagine what object left them. Do you see?

“A thin crescent,” Anya nodded.

“The letter “C”,” Valery expressed his opinion, “but it comes in different forms, according to the rules, “C” faces to the right. But here it is turned to the left.

“Here it’s not a “C”, but an “O”, which was sawed across,” I perked up, “only the top half was left.”

– Do we have photographs that the police took when the store employees showed up when called? – I asked.

“Look at it,” Edya answered immediately, “the body lies near the front door.” Maybe when she felt bad, she wanted to ask for help?

“This option cannot be denied,” I did not argue, not understanding what was bothering me.

It doesn't seem like anything special. A high staircase, then a fairly wide platform, on the sides of which there are stone pots with flowers; a woman in a white sundress lies at the door of the store, facing the steps. What worries me? And how did Hortensia’s credit card come into possession of the deceased?

“Look,” Edita said and pointed to the screen, “Larisa Fedorovna Pashkina, twenty-nine years old.” Once she came to the attention of the police, but came out unscathed. It's just a copy of the one in the morgue. Registered at Krasnolesnaya Lane, building twelve, apartment six. Place of work: freelancer.

- How did you find her? – I asked.

Edya pointed to the laptop.

– I ran a photo of the deceased’s face into the search. It was not found anywhere in our databases, which means the girl was not brought to justice, and suddenly - bam! A photo face with the note: “Experiment Program” just flew out. Now I will explain what happened. Bokova Natalya Ivanovna, forty-nine years old, called the police at the Mona cafe. The woman went to look at the cakes in the window, out of the corner of her eye she saw how the girl at the next table, having finished her dessert, hurried to the door, remembered that she had left her wallet on the chair, and yelled: “Stop the thief!” Pashkina was grabbed by the guard at the door. Larisa was asked to open her bag, but she refused. The patrol arrived and took everyone to the station. Pashka’s purse was not in her bag, but it was found on the floor of the cafe. Larisa was detained, her lawyer arrived in the morning and immediately explained to the police that Bokova herself could have dropped the wallet, there were no witnesses to Pashkina’s illegal actions. That was the end of it. But the department where Larisa was taken took part in a three-month experiment; it was equipped with cameras and computers. As soon as someone got into the bullpen, a photo was automatically taken and sent to the database. At one time they wanted to install such equipment in all areas. A photograph of any person who has committed even a minor hooligan offense and is released the next morning after severe reprimand remains forever in the archive. But then they calculated how much this idea would cost and forgot about it. Pashkina found herself in the cell when the equipment was in full swing. Her image has therefore been preserved.

“I see,” I said. “Now I want to know how Pashkina got her hands on Hortensia’s credit card.” Did Larisa steal it? Or did Moiseenko give her the card herself? And it would be nice to be absolutely sure that the body in the morgue is Larisa Fedorovna’s, and not some girl very similar to her.

“Well, yes,” Edita drawled, “but I think it’s definitely her.” Look, in the police photo you can clearly see a special feature, a large mole on the right above the upper lip. The mark looks like a beetle.

“The corpse has the same one,” Bulya perked up. – If someone looks like Pashkina, has moles like Pashkina, then she is Pashkina.

“Perhaps,” I agreed, “Anya, talk to Moiseenko’s neighbors, maybe they’ll tell you something interesting.” Valera, find out as much information as possible about Larisa Fedorovna, go to the house where she lived, chat with the neighbors. Edya, rummage through the computer, we need all the information about Pashkina: who are the parents, husband, if it is her body that was found near the Laska store, then the question arises: where is the child? I want to meet Karina Khlebnikova again, I got the feeling that Hortensia’s best friend was not completely frank with us. I'm also going to visit the store where the body was found.

“In the meantime, I’ll work with the papers that were compiled by the police who examined the crime scene,” suggested Alexander Viktorovich, “in case I notice something interesting.”

Edita raised her hand.

– I didn’t have time to say that there are no cameras at the entrance to Laska. Now almost all stores have video surveillance. But this retail outlet doesn’t have it, and they don’t have security either.

- Like this? – I was surprised. – You must have been mistaken!

“No,” Edita snapped, “if I want, I can connect to any video point installed on the street.” "Laska" does not have video surveillance outside. I became curious and checked who was guarding the shop. Nobody. They are not connected to a remote control, they do not have an agreement with any serious security agency.

“Perhaps there are guards with guns on duty in the back room?” - Vatagin suggested. – The owner decided that live security was better than surveillance. The thief will crawl into the hall while the patrol arrives, grab the clothes - and take off, he won’t need much time. And when the watchman is there, he will react immediately.

“It’s strange,” Edita drawled, “the grandfather with the Berdanka is a long-gone character.”

“I meant guys with modern pistols,” the psychologist clarified.

“It’s still not ice,” Edita insisted.

Ivan Nikiforovich stood up.

– Tatyana, come to me, there are a couple of unresolved service issues.

I followed the boss, we went up to the first floor, passed the reception room where Anton, Ivan’s assistant, was sitting at the computer, entered a spacious office and were finally left alone. The boss opened his desk drawer, took out a velvet box and solemnly said:

- Tanya, I ask you to become my wife.

I felt funny.

-Where is the declaration of love?

Ivan was surprised:

– Is it necessary? I will not ask for a woman's hand without having strong feelings for her. This is understandable. Or do you think that I have some kind of calculation?

I sat down in a chair.

“Since the groom is much richer than the bride and is also her boss, I should be suspected of being calculating.” I understand that you are not indifferent to me, but I really want to hear a declaration of love.

Ivan was embarrassed.

“Come on,” I was happy.

- You agree? –

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Ivan specified.

“First you need to find out how the potential bride feels about you,” I advised. – What if I agree for selfish reasons? And the words “Dear Tanya, I love you, do you love me?” I haven't heard it yet.

“You won’t spend your free time with a person you don’t like,” the boss announced.

“Every girl wants romance,” I said plaintively, “something unusual, original, memorable for a lifetime.” It's a shame to just accept the ring.

The office door swung open without knocking.

- Did you interfere? – asked Dimon.

“Of course not,” I was delighted. - What are you doing here?

“Actually, I’m an employee of the brigade where you used to work,” Korobkov said. - Why do not you pick up the phone? I called you.

I took my mobile phone out of my pocket.

- Sorry, we had a meeting, I turned off the sound. Something happened?

“Lapulya and I invite you, Ivan Nikiforovich, to our wedding,” Dimon solemnly announced, “the ceremony will take place at the Kavaler restaurant in August, here are the invitations.” It’s good that I found you together, there’s less running around the floors.

“You’ve been married a long time,” I muttered. - Or I'm wrong?

“There is a stamp in the passport,” my friend nodded, “but we didn’t have a beautiful ceremony.”

- Wait a minute! – I exclaimed. – It wasn’t yesterday, but I remember that they bought Lapula a dress, some of her, sorry for the frankness, not very pleasant relatives came, it seems they rented a restaurant...

“Yeah,” Dimon agreed, “exactly.” Do you remember the wedding itself?

“No,” I mumbled, “I don’t think I was present at it.” Maybe she went on a business trip?

Korobok shook his head.

- No. Lapuli's relatives quarreled among themselves, and the celebration was cancelled. We lived quietly, and suddenly in the winter Lapulya began to suck my brain out through a tube. He wants a white dress, a veil, cries of “bitter”, a bouquet, gifts, an imitation of registration, in short, a nightmare and horror. At first I refused, but Lapulya got upset and cried...

Dimon waved his hand.

– Tanyasha, you will become a bridesmaid. Agree?

“It would be an honor,” I replied.

“A week before the celebration, you will need to try on a dress for the wedding,” the computer scientist continued, “you will come to our home for this.”

-Have you decided to buy me an outfit? For what? – I was surprised. - I have plenty of my own clothes.

“It’s immediately clear that you’re not married,” Dimon chuckled.

For some reason I felt offended.

“I don’t know what your wedding looked like the first time, but the second time I was a witness from the groom,” Dimon for some reason launched into unnecessary memories, “together with the newlyweds (I love this word, there is nothing more stupid than it) you ran into the registry office What they were wearing, they left signatures in the book - and the whole wedding took place. Lapulya dreams of a solemn ceremony with all the subtleties observed. The bride is all in white, the bridesmaids are in identical dresses, the color is pink. Everything is in this color scheme, the decoration of the hall, the clothes of the guests, the food.

“It’s crazy,” I admired. – Will they roll out the multi-tiered cake?

“Certainly,” Dimon promised.

“That’s why, when I recently came to visit you, Lapulya decided to take my measurements,” it dawned on me, “I was very surprised when she brought a centimeter, but Lapulya explained that you were flying to St. Petersburg for work, they breed a special breed there.” blue goats, from whose wool they produce yarn, and it is used for knitted dresses. They are sold only in the Northern capital, do you want to buy me something like this for my birthday... You completely screwed my brains. What a tricky one! She was already preparing for the wedding then. Why didn't she say anything directly?

“I think because the main thing for Lapa is to arrange a surprise,” Dimon muttered, “to surprise his friends.” But this is what I think, and what Lapulya thinks is unknown to anyone, not even to herself.

“No questions,” I smiled.

“Just don’t you dare tell Lapa that I messed up your outfit,” Dimon was scared.

- Goats in St. Petersburg? – Ivan doubted it belatedly. - A little strange.

“Lapulya doesn’t always lie smoothly,” I explained.

“She doesn’t know how to lie at all,” said Dimon.

– What should I buy you? – the boss asked busily. “Otherwise I’ll bring a useless gift.”

“It seems like we have everything,” Dimon shrugged.

“Bed linen will always come in handy,” I decided, “there are never too many sets, I’ll check with Lapulya about the size of the bed.”

“No need,” the friend waved his hands, “she loves surprises.”

“Then try it on yourself,” I ordered.

“Okay,” Dimon agreed. – I hope none of you will forget about the invitation?

“Well,” Ivan and I answered in unison.

Korobkov headed towards the door.

– Can you tell me how you proposed marriage to your wife? – I asked.

Korobok slowed down and turned around.

“Lapa is very romantic, so she wanted me to hire a carriage drawn by white horses, sit on a horse with a pink mane, gallop up to our house, sing a serenade with a guitar, then climb up the pipe onto the balcony and hand her a box with a ring.

“Great,” I muttered, “beautiful.” And that's what you did?

Dimon laughed and avoided answering. I looked at Ivan.

“I’ll fall out of the saddle,” he said quickly, “and I’m afraid of horses, they have huge teeth.” It’s also difficult for me to climb a pipe; nature has not equipped me with suction cups on my palms and soles. And you live on the twelfth floor, I’ll never crawl there, I won’t even get to the second.

“Well, Lapa came up with this,” I said sadly, “you need to organize something of your own.” You know, no one has ever done romantic things for me.

Ivan looked at the velvet box.

- So you won’t take the ring?

I gave the buildings a go.

– I accept your offer.

The chef opened the lid and handed the ring to me.

- Like? Try it on!

“It’s beautiful,” I answered honestly, putting on the ring with the stone. - Oh! Great.

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Notes

The situation is described in Daria Dontsova’s book “The Love Potion of a Chatterbox Sorcerer.”

There is no medicine with this name. There is a drug with a similar effect, the author does not name it for ethical reasons.

How Tanya ended up visiting her boss is described in Daria Dontsova’s book “The Black Widow’s Bermuda Triangle.”

End of introductory fragment.

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Here is an introductory fragment of the book.

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Daria Arkadyevna Dontsova

Volcano of passions of a naive forget-me-not

© Dontsova D. A., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

If you want a man to run away from you forever, start sorting things out with him.

I stood silently in the corner of the elevator, listening to the neighbors who lived several floors above swear. Unfortunately, I did not immediately understand that they had started a quarrel, mechanically stepped into the cabin when it opened the doors welcomingly, and said “Good morning” to the man and woman who were already inside. I regularly meet these people in the morning, they leave for work at half past eight, and I also often rush to work at this time. There is no friendship between us, I only know that my husband’s name is Semyon, and my wife’s name is Lena. As a rule, they greet politely and sometimes start talking about the weather. Yesterday, for example, in response to my greeting, Semyon said:

“It’s raining horribly today, it’s pouring down like buckets.”

I picked up:

– Unlucky June this year, we were completely flooded.

“Yes, yes,” I nodded.

Sometimes I run into Senya in the evening, he returns from work late, and I can also come home around midnight. We smile at each other, and we again start a conversation on the favorite topic of the Russian person about the weather. I get off on my floor, Semyon drives on. Over several years of communication in the elevator, I managed to find out that the spouses do not have children and that they treat each other tenderly. Semyon sometimes enters the entrance with a bouquet; on Saturdays and Sundays I see a dressed-up husband and wife getting into the car, they are clearly heading to visit or to the theater. In the mornings Semyon never smells of fumes, I have never seen him drunk. Lena wears beautiful fur coats in winter, expensive dresses in summer, and her bags and shoes are not cheap at all. Never in my memory have spouses sorted things out. Probably, like everyone else, they sometimes make trouble, but this has never happened to me. But today my “Good morning” hung in the air. It seems that the neighbors did not notice that I, Tanya Sergeeva, appeared in the cabin. Lena, sobbing, attacked her husband:

- No, explain your position.

Semyon silently looked at the floor, and his wife did not calm down:

- Let's finally sort things out. Why…

The husband pointed his finger at the button with the number “3”, and soon the elevator froze and the doors opened. Semyon flew out onto the staircase and shouted:

- I'm tired of your nagging. Specifically, they stand across the throat. Do you want a dog? Backwater. But then I'll leave home. Choose: either me or the dog!

Yes, if you want your husband to run away from you forever, start sorting things out with him.

I didn’t know what to do: console Lena? Or pretend that she didn’t hear her husband’s evil words and don’t see the tears rolling down her cheeks like peas. Thank God it wasn't a long drive. Muttering: “Goodbye,” I jumped out into the yard, got into the jeep and drove to the barrier. When I moved into an apartment in this building, so as not to raise the question from curious neighbors: “Where does a simple teacher get a powerful, expensive car?” – I left my car overnight in the underground parking lot of a nearby supermarket. But then Porsches, BMWs, Mercedes - all business class cars - began to appear near the entrance, and I stopped being encrypted. Previously, an expensive car indicated your fat wallet, but now it can indicate the size of the loan that the owner took out from the bank.

Having reached the security guard, I saw a confused Elena near the barrier, realized that the enraged Semyon had left alone, and leaned out of the window.

- Can I give you a ride?

“Go to the metro,” the neighbor was delighted, “from there I can quickly get to the Lenin Library.”

“I’ll go along Vozdvizhenka,” I smiled, “I can take you to your place.”

“Thank you,” Lena began to thank, climbing into the cabin. - Wow, how many buttons and toggle switches you have here, like a spaceship control panel.

“I got the Jeep from my ex-husband,” I lied as usual, “he somehow improved the car, stuffed something into it, but I don’t understand its gadgets, except that sometimes I turn on the radio.”

We drove in silence for some time, then a green light flashed on the dashboard, I pressed my finger on the square key, the light went out, I grabbed my mobile phone.

- Ivan Nikiforovich, I’m coming to you, don’t worry, I’ll start the lesson on time.

“I understand, someone else is in the car,” the boss muttered, “I’m waiting.”

I put the phone in the holder and again began to fantasize:

– I teach lessons in several private gymnasiums, one recently changed its director, and now there is a very nervous person in the head’s chair, always worried whether the teacher will be late.

“I work as a spa manager,” Lena sighed. - We have such a client, she makes an appointment for a manicure and lets the administrator torment her three days before the appointed time, she will bring hiccups, she calls every hour and asks: “Is Master Krasnova sick?”, “Will she definitely see me?” “I’ll arrive at seven, will the manicurist be late?” A couple of times she appeared when Krasnova’s client was still sitting, and started a scandal, pointed at her watch and shouted: “It’s nineteen zero three now. Why didn't they see me at seven? Ugliness. I'm a busy person." We were glad when she stopped visiting us. Tanya, do you have children?

I was surprised by the tactless question.

- And why? – Lena was not satisfied with the answer.

I slowed down at the traffic light.

– You can name several reasons, but the main one is: I have not yet met a man with whom I would like to give birth. I’m not very child-loving, and the job is such that the baby will end up in the nanny’s arms from infancy, and this is not good.

Elena took a paper handkerchief out of her bag and put it to her eyes.

– Did you hear us arguing in the elevator today? Oh, don't answer. Of course we heard. My husband and I have neither a son nor a daughter. And why? We got married very early. Senya just graduated from military school, and I received a nursing diploma. My husband was assigned to Barnaul, he is a rocket scientist, he sat there on some kind of console. We did not live in the city itself, but nearby. The cat cried out for money, there was no work for me in the military camp, they subsisted on Senin’s salary, but it was paid out irregularly. I started to stutter: “Let’s give birth to a baby.” The husband waved his hands: “Not now, we need to get back on our feet.”

Lena turned to the window.

“We’ve been tossed around the country for years. Well, what kind of child do people have who are always moving to a new place of residence with bundled suitcases? Living conditions were often poor: a barracks, a communal apartment, a family hostel. I didn’t want to wash the baby in the shared bathroom. Everything for a child should be the best. What could his military father provide him with? A corner in a little room, a crib behind a screen? Then we got lucky. Semyon was transferred to Moscow, given a good apartment, her husband received the rank of colonel, and material well-being finally arrived. I found a great job, we moved from a two-room apartment to a four-room apartment. We bought a dacha, a car, and I decided to get pregnant.

Lena clenched her fists.

- And nothing happened. A year later we went to the doctors and found out that both were healthy, but the children were not getting pregnant. We tried our luck with IVF. Six times. It didn't work out. We went to holy places, ran to sorcerers, healers...

Elena put a handkerchief to her eyes.

– Bottom line: I’m thirty-nine, Sena is forty-two, we don’t have children and never will.

Elena cried quietly.

“Now people even give birth at fifty,” I tried to reassure my neighbor.

Lena wiped her face with her palm:

- Well, I’m not an idiot to give birth to a baby at the age when one becomes a grandmother. Who will help the child if the parents die in fifteen years?

“We must look at the situation with optimism,” I muttered, “it’s unlikely that at fifty-five you will say goodbye to this world.”

“Everything is possible,” the neighbor said gloomily, “we should have given birth before we were thirty, not wait until we got an apartment and a car.” Now I would go to college for my first abortion. I tried to solve the problem. Well, it doesn’t work out for us baby, okay. You can fool the Lord God around your finger. There is now an embryo adoption program.

I almost let go of the steering wheel.

– Embryo adoption?

“Yes,” Elena nodded, “they remain from IVF, some donate their embryos to childless couples.”

“Well, well,” I drawled, “it turns out that your child will be raised in a foster family.”

“Another woman is carrying him, the baby will become her own,” Lena objected. “I really wanted to take part in this program, but Senya stood up on his hind legs: “I don’t want someone else’s son!” I will never love him as if I were my own.” And the husband is not ready to adopt a baby from a shelter. In general, we closed the topic of children. All. We live together, only for ourselves.

Lena pressed her hands to her chest.

- But I really want a dog. Small, fluffy, I’ve already thought of a name for her: Musenka. And what? Semyon doesn’t even want to hear about the dog. I ask him: “Let’s buy Musenka,” I show photos of puppies on the Internet. But the husband shouts: “Over my corpse.”

If you want a man to run away from you forever, start sorting things out with him.

I stood silently in the corner of the elevator, listening to the neighbors who lived several floors above swear. Unfortunately, I did not immediately understand that they had started a quarrel, mechanically stepped into the cabin when it opened the doors welcomingly, and said “Good morning” to the man and woman who were already inside. I regularly meet these people in the morning, they leave for work at half past eight, and I also often rush to work at this time. There is no friendship between us, I only know that my husband’s name is Semyon, and my wife’s name is Lena. As a rule, they greet politely and sometimes start talking about the weather. Yesterday, for example, in response to my greeting, Semyon said:

“It’s raining horribly today, it’s pouring down like buckets.”

I picked up:

– Unlucky June this year, we were completely flooded.

“Yes, yes,” I nodded.

Sometimes I run into Senya in the evening, he returns from work late, and I can also come home around midnight. We smile at each other, and we again start a conversation on the favorite topic of the Russian person about the weather. I get off on my floor, Semyon drives on. Over several years of communication in the elevator, I managed to find out that the spouses do not have children and that they treat each other tenderly. Semyon sometimes enters the entrance with a bouquet; on Saturdays and Sundays I see a dressed-up husband and wife getting into the car, they are clearly heading to visit or to the theater. In the mornings Semyon never smells of fumes, I have never seen him drunk. Lena wears beautiful fur coats in winter, expensive dresses in summer, and her bags and shoes are not cheap at all. Never in my memory have spouses sorted things out. Probably, like everyone else, they sometimes make trouble, but this has never happened to me. But today my “Good morning” hung in the air. It seems that the neighbors did not notice that I, Tanya Sergeeva, appeared in the cabin. Lena, sobbing, attacked her husband:

- No, explain your position.

Semyon silently looked at the floor, and his wife did not calm down:

- Let's finally sort things out. Why…

The husband pointed his finger at the button with the number “3”, and soon the elevator froze and the doors opened. Semyon flew out onto the staircase and shouted:

- I'm tired of your nagging. Specifically, they stand across the throat. Do you want a dog? Backwater. But then I'll leave home. Choose: either me or the dog!

Yes, if you want your husband to run away from you forever, start sorting things out with him.

I didn’t know what to do: console Lena? Or pretend that she didn’t hear her husband’s evil words and don’t see the tears rolling down her cheeks like peas. Thank God it wasn't a long drive. Muttering: “Goodbye,” I jumped out into the yard, got into the jeep and drove to the barrier. When I moved into an apartment in this building, so as not to raise the question from curious neighbors: “Where does a simple teacher get a powerful, expensive car?” – I left my car overnight in the underground parking lot of a nearby supermarket. But then Porsches, BMWs, Mercedes - all business class cars - began to appear near the entrance, and I stopped being encrypted. Previously, an expensive car indicated your fat wallet, but now it can indicate the size of the loan that the owner took out from the bank.

Having reached the security guard, I saw a confused Elena near the barrier, realized that the enraged Semyon had left alone, and leaned out of the window.

- Can I give you a ride?

“Go to the metro,” the neighbor was delighted, “from there I can quickly get to the Lenin Library.”

“I’ll go along Vozdvizhenka,” I smiled, “I can take you to your place.”

“Thank you,” Lena began to thank, climbing into the cabin. - Wow, how many buttons and toggle switches you have here, like a spaceship control panel.

“I got the Jeep from my ex-husband,” I lied as usual, “he somehow improved the car, stuffed something into it, but I don’t understand its gadgets, except that sometimes I turn on the radio.”

We drove in silence for some time, then a green light flashed on the dashboard, I pressed my finger on the square key, the light went out, I grabbed my mobile phone.

- Ivan Nikiforovich, I’m coming to you, don’t worry, I’ll start the lesson on time.

“I understand, someone else is in the car,” the boss muttered, “I’m waiting.”

I put the phone in the holder and again began to fantasize:

– I teach lessons in several private gymnasiums, one recently changed its director, and now there is a very nervous person in the head’s chair, always worried whether the teacher will be late.

“I work as a spa manager,” Lena sighed. - We have such a client, she makes an appointment for a manicure and lets the administrator torment her three days before the appointed time, she will bring hiccups, she calls every hour and asks: “Is Master Krasnova sick?”, “Will she definitely see me?” “I’ll arrive at seven, will the manicurist be late?” A couple of times she appeared when Krasnova’s client was still sitting, and started a scandal, pointed at her watch and shouted: “It’s nineteen zero three now. Why didn't they see me at seven? Ugliness. I'm a busy person." We were glad when she stopped visiting us. Tanya, do you have children?

I was surprised by the tactless question.

- And why? – Lena was not satisfied with the answer.

I slowed down at the traffic light.

– You can name several reasons, but the main one is: I have not yet met a man with whom I would like to give birth. I’m not very child-loving, and the job is such that the baby will end up in the nanny’s arms from infancy, and this is not good.

Elena took a paper handkerchief out of her bag and put it to her eyes.

– Did you hear us arguing in the elevator today? Oh, don't answer. Of course we heard. My husband and I have neither a son nor a daughter. And why? We got married very early. Senya just graduated from military school, and I received a nursing diploma. My husband was assigned to Barnaul, he is a rocket scientist, he sat there on some kind of console. We did not live in the city itself, but nearby. The cat cried out for money, there was no work for me in the military camp, they subsisted on Senin’s salary, but it was paid out irregularly. I started to stutter: “Let’s give birth to a baby.” The husband waved his hands: “Not now, we need to get back on our feet.”

Lena turned to the window.

“We’ve been tossed around the country for years. Well, what kind of child do people have who are always moving to a new place of residence with bundled suitcases? Living conditions were often poor: a barracks, a communal apartment, a family hostel. I didn’t want to wash the baby in the shared bathroom. Everything for a child should be the best. What could his military father provide him with? A corner in a little room, a crib behind a screen? Then we got lucky. Semyon was transferred to Moscow, given a good apartment, her husband received the rank of colonel, and material well-being finally arrived. I found a great job, we moved from a two-room apartment to a four-room apartment. We bought a dacha, a car, and I decided to get pregnant.

Lena clenched her fists.

- And nothing happened. A year later we went to the doctors and found out that both were healthy, but the children were not getting pregnant. We tried our luck with IVF. Six times. It didn't work out. We went to holy places, ran to sorcerers, healers...

Elena put a handkerchief to her eyes.

– Bottom line: I’m thirty-nine, Sena is forty-two, we don’t have children and never will.

Elena cried quietly.

“Now people even give birth at fifty,” I tried to reassure my neighbor.

Lena wiped her face with her palm:

- Well, I’m not an idiot to give birth to a baby at the age when one becomes a grandmother. Who will help the child if the parents die in fifteen years?

“We must look at the situation with optimism,” I muttered, “it’s unlikely that at fifty-five you will say goodbye to this world.”

“Everything is possible,” the neighbor said gloomily, “we should have given birth before we were thirty, not wait until we got an apartment and a car.” Now I would go to college for my first abortion. I tried to solve the problem. Well, it doesn’t work out for us baby, okay. You can fool the Lord God around your finger. There is now an embryo adoption program.