Читать книгу Penny Criminal Case - Alexander Cherenov - Страница 5

Until the morning, as “prescribed in the statute”, Starkov could not even lie on the couch for a minute. Until half-past eight, without stopping by the police department, Starkov “landed” from one place of the incident on the other. But the “program of the day” had not yet been exhausted, although Alex himself learned about the “success” that had befallen him, only upon arrival at his “native land”.

Without going home and barely having time to rinse his hands and face with water from a spring at the last place of the incident, Starkov went to work. (The duty on the city was not considered as such – at least, by the district prosecutor). Having barely crossed the threshold of the office, he was invited by the head of the office to the district prosecutor. And since the call took place early in the morning, boss invited him clearly not “for tea”.

Without even asking the senior investigator, how the duty went (why be interested, when this is not his own?!), the prosecutor spread his arms out of the way – for some reason with a dejected look.

“Bad things, dear Alex…”

“I didn’t understand,” Starkov did not sin against the truth. Knowing the tendency of his boss systematically fall in spirit for any reason and without them, he was in no hurry to be alarmed.

But the prosecutor was in no hurry to “confess”.

“How many cases do you have now, Alex?” he went to the senior investigator from afar.

“Do you really want to ease the burden?!” Starkov allowed himself to grin.

“And yet, how much?” the prosecutor, who usually surrendered without command, did not surrender.

“Fifteen. I will transfer fourteen cases to the court with an indictment: five to the regional, nine to the district. One I will stop in the absence of corpus delicti.”

“Hmm… hmm…”

The “shyness”, permanently inherent in the prosecutor, was clearly beginning to “overflow”. And Starkov did not hesitate to ask about the reasons – in his characteristic spirit.

“Boss, what happened? Is the auditor going to us? Is he incognito with secret prescription?”

The prosecutor, who was not the greatest connoisseur of elegant literature, but at one time at school “passing through” Gogol, smiled faintly.

“No, dear Alex, an auditor…”

“He has not reached us yet, has he?”

“Well, yes… That is… In general, the case you went to yesterday… that is, tonight…”

“Which one exactly?” Starkov was wary: “the girlish shyness” of the prosecutor was beginning to like him less and less. “I served eight places of the incident on duty. Which one?”

With trembling hands more than usual, the prosecutor began to shift papers from one edge of the table to the other. At other times, Starkov would have laughed in his heart over the “role of a loader”, which boss had enough for the whole day, but now somehow didn’t have enough mood. The behavior of the prosecutor – the eternal coward and alarmist, although not a bad person (deep in the soul) – he liked less and less.

Finally, the prosecutor finished the “movement of goods” by organizing an even greater mess on the table, than he had before “time X”.

“No, then… the Kirov case… with the murdered girl.”

Starkov honestly lengthened his face.

“What’s wrong there?! I ‘made’ all the required measures, the material I submitted to the Kirov prosecutor with the accompanying information, indicated the ‘bright path’ to the Kirov ‘cops’ – what else?”

“Hmm… hmm…”

“Boss,” Starkov could not stand it, “as one character in Sholokhov’s “And Quiet Flows the Don” said: “If you swung, then hit!”

Proceedings in the course of the novel: “I will hit you!” did not follow, but the prosecutor unexpectedly cut the road to the truth – and “went to confess”.

“This case was given to us, dear Alex…”

“What does it mean?!”

No, Starkov was not stunned by surprise – such a reaction is inherent in the heroes of the novels – but the format of his face has clearly undergone even greater changes.

“What the fuck, boss?!”

“By territoriality, dear Alex,” the prosecutor moved his eyes further away.

Starkov could not resist and grunted.

“And what, boss, overnight there were changes in the administrative-territorial division of the districts?! Now this wasteland will add us mileage, doesn’t it?!”

“I would have joked myself,” the prosecutor sinned against the truth: he could not joke from birth, “but…”

“Zarathustra does not allow?” Starkov joked instead of the authorities grimly.

Boss was clearly not acquainted with Zarathustra, which was proved by the unexpectedly interested look of his sad-dull eyes.

“No, dear Alex, this one… as his…”

“Zarathustra.”

“…Yes… he had nothing to do with it.”

The prosecutor boyishly sniffed.

“It turned out, that the murder was committed on our side of the wasteland…”

“And then he was ‘transferred as a Christmas present to the dearest patron’?”

Starkov joked, but with every joke, it became less and less vigorous: comprehending the inevitable had a bad effect on nerves and facial muscles.

“You guessed, dear Alex.”

“And who so pleased us?” Starkov immediately showed a gloomy face: the jokes were over, despite all their traditionally inexhaustible stock.

“Someone… someone… I can have a look right now…”

The prosecutor dived his head into the pile of papers he had constructed and removed a thin folder with a red police cover from it.

“Here: Rubin.”

“Rubin?!”

Starkov ran with his hand over his overgrown chin: he intended to shave in his office, with an old electric razor “Berdsk”.

“And how did he find it out?”

Instead of answering, the prosecutor handed Starkov a thin folder.

“Take a look, dear Alex.”

The case – this is only due to the exceptional thinness – consisted of the Starkov’s incident report, the decision to open a criminal case, the extremely laconic protocols of interrogations of the medical examiner Tarsky, an expert-criminalist Pavlovsky, lieutenant Ivanov and the senior authorized officer of the City Department of Internal Affairs captain Rubin. The scheme and photos from the scene were attached to the case. The last document in the case was the resolution on the transfer of the case on a territorial basis and the “highest” resolution of the city prosecutor of the “Let it be!” Format.

“That’s not bad for one night and a piece of morning,” Starkov approved colleagues through teeth and gnashing of teeth. “Although you can immediately see, how the guys were in a hurry to get rid of the work… Hmm… Well, what did Captain Rubin confess here?”

The interrogation protocol of Rubin, like the other “defendants”, fit on one sheet of the standard prosecutor’s office form of interrogation of a witness. It was felt that the readings were minimized and fixed with only one purpose: to “make happy” colleagues from the Central district in shock terms.

Starkov quickly looked through the sheet. Rubin confessed that, while developing a version of the senior investigator Starkov about a pre-planned murder, he, waiting for the dawn, decided to examine the part of the wasteland, from which local policeman Ivanov brought the cat to the deceased girl. Preliminary Ivanov oriented him in place.

“Did Ivanov orient him in place?!” Starkov grinned out loud. “What a progress! Yes, he himself must be oriented, and not only in that place, but also in the place in life! No other way, now he will be transferred to the detectives, and at the same time from fools to clever people – for their ingenuity!”

Concisely “admiring” with lieutenant Ivanov, Starkov returned to the case file. Then Rubin said that within a radius of several meters from the location of the cat indicated by Ivanov, he noticed brown spots on the ground. They stretched in a broken chain towards the part of the wasteland, where the corpse of the girl was found. Soil samples with brown spots on them were taken by the investigator of the prosecutor’s office of the Kirov district to the forensic medical bureau for a forensic biological examination, and it turned out, that this was blood, which coincided in group with the victim’s blood.

“Quickly!” Starkov shook his head. “And the blood is it, and the blood type is known… Too fast! It takes days to establish both ‘in peacetime’!”

In conclusion, Rubin found on the October side of the wasteland bloody women’s panties with initials on the inside of “TK”. Being presented to the identification of the mother of the victim, they were identified as belonging to her daughter.

“And where is the identification protocol?”

Starkov quickly leafed through the sore business: there was no protocol. Probably, they just waved with panties in front of the face: the usual police disorder of the format “That’s not bad, but who really needs it – let it rework!” And “comrades from the Kirov district” were in such a hurry to “move the clamp from their neck to someone else’s”, that they did not even bother to draw up an inventory of documents, not to mention the identification protocol.

Starkov closed the folder and placed it in front of him on the console to the table, behind which, hunched over and pressed his head into the shoulders, the prosecutor sat – not at all in the image and likeness of the high authorities.

“Well, what do you say, dear Alex?” the prosecutor faltered in his voice.

Starkov threw up his hands.

“And what can you say? We will not go to refute these facts and beg for the ‘city’ to get the case turned back to the Kirov district… The deed is done… Well, in the sense that it is now with us, and we cannot get away from it… Although the Kirov ‘comrades’ could have merged these cases: because they have two almost similar corpses… And what the city prosecutor thought, hell knows…”

Suddenly he shook his head, which had already acquired a mine of bewilderment.

“It is not clear, why such maneuvers? Who needed to drag the corpse from one area to another? For what purpose? It would seem, is it not one hell, on which part of the same waste ground will a corpse be found?!.. So, not one… I am – in the sense of “one hell”… So, there was a goal. But I cannot understand what. If you wanted to throw a corpse to us, why drag it to the Kirov side? It’s unclear…

“Well, here, dear Alex, reveal this crime!” the prosecutor suddenly “came to life” – even his face, of parchment color, slightly got rosy. “Take this case to investigate!”

“Why me?!”

Starkov was clearly not in a hurry to share the bosses’ enthusiasm.

“This week, Meshkov is on duty in the district, so all the dead are his ‘booty’. I have nothing to do with this! Moreover, he has only four cases in production! No, boss, whatever you want, and I disagree!”

“Dear Alex…”

The prosecutor with a combined expression on his face: confusion plus embarrassment – turned the palms of his hands “inside out”.

“Well, you know that Meshik is no investigator! He has already He ruined those three unpretentious cases, all with a judicial perspective – what, then, can we speak for this case! It is too tough for him, dear Alex! Well, think about it yourself! And you, after all, are already aware of this case! What do you say?”

Starkov reproachfully looked at the prosecutor and shook his head.

“Eh, boss… You twist the rope out of me!”

“Help us out…”

“…our Savior?” Starkov finished with a wry grin, very far from optimistic. “Okay, boss: you are now indebted to me…”

Holding the folder under his arm and pretending to sag under its “weight”, Starkov left the prosecutor’s office. “Life has become better, life has become more fun”…