Читать книгу Penny Criminal Case - Alexander Cherenov - Страница 7

The murder was attributed to the Central district, but it was not possible to attribute the place, where material evidence was found, and the place of residence of the current and potential defendants. That is why Starkov immediately requested Kirov detectives about their “catch” and results of “other earthworks, which were made by nose and a horn”.

The guys honestly – and even with great pleasure! – gave Starkov all their poor “wealth”. The composition of the “inheritance” did not strike either with value or quantity: having learned, that the case was transferred to the neighbors, the “Kirov residents” cheerfully “conducted it on the last journey”. No one – not even a pro forma – has already “loosened the soil” with either “nose” or, especially, “horn”. No one did not try to “lure them to the collective farm” with a hopeless appeal to conscience, the “corporate fraternity” and other “proletarian solidarity”. The Kirov neighbors had a lot of sins, for which they were scolded by their superiors.

But before the blessed surrender of authority, neighbors, nevertheless, managed to “open to the world” something. So, the Kirov “cops” “at a waltz pace” ran around the whole district, hooked up the population – and found, that the hairbrush in the form of a naked girl was repeatedly seen half protruding from the jacket of a tenth-grader of a local school, whose name was Petin.

It turned out, that the sneakers with a rare “tread pattern” and the “Made in…” brand of the factory, which took part in collecting material evidence at the scene of the incident, were also not strangers to this character. Moreover: for the past several months, they formed a single whole with his legs. The aim was to make an indelibly-favorable impression on the contingent, especially of the female sex. Judging by the photo, attached to the material, this boy could not attract the attention of the girls, except that the unmeasured number of acne on the face, long nose, huge protruding ears and crooked teeth – but only girls with perverted taste.

Neighbors also “bothered” something along the line of his surroundings. It turned out, that the boy was “surrounded” by a twice convicted father – a subject very much exalted because of a past heavy time and a tendency to abuse alcohol in the present.

Neighbors promised to send information about the button, found in the murdered girl’s hand, “from minute to minute”: within three to four days. The little “harvest” of “Kirov citizens” was exhausted by it: there was nothing more to reap, but they were not going to: “the fields had already been transferred to the neighboring collective farm in the order of delimitation”.

Starkov decided not to philosophize and take advantage of the advice of the unforgettable Ostap Bender: “Of two hares, they choose the one that is fatter”. Therefore, he “decided” to start with the family duet Petukhovs. The first in the queue “to conduct explanatory work among themselves” was Petin Jr. – as the most “material favorable for work”.

The Central detectives already knew about the “happiness”, that fell upon them: the head of the criminal investigation department Major Lapin, with his dead voice, managed to “share the joy” with Starkov. But the detectives have not yet rushed into battle: the initiative is traditionally punishable, and there were enough local battles on the other parts of the front. So they waited for the “guidelines” of the “main victim” from the transfer of the case: Starkov.

And he did not try the patience of the detectives, who “got used to in the trenches”. Having finished the last cigarette, he called the first deputy head of the Central district police department (for operational work), Lieutenant-Colonel Petrov.

“I greet you, sir: Starkov.”

“Dear Alex, come hear: we are all gathered here.”

So, for which Starkov especially valued Lieutenant Colonel Petrov – he had a lot of operational merit – it was for his laconicism and the usual priority of the matter. Petrov did not like to talk a lot, preferring to work with his head, hands and feet – including on the “objects of work”.

Ten minutes later – the “Moskvich-412”, although it was listed behind the prosecutor’s office, was immediately “privatized” by the prosecutor and his wife – Starkov was already entering the building of the Central district police department. On the move, greeting everybody he met, Starkov went up to the third floor. (For some reason, the authorities always love to climb the very “upper loft”: “I can see everything from above – you should know this!”)

Lt. Col. Petrov was not an exception to the rule, although unlike the head of the district department of internal affairs, with whom he had offices next to each other, he was not seen in the inclination to show off his bossy ambition and other “components of the boss’s reputation”. The furniture in his office was simple and “mixed”: the desk and the console, as well as the shabby Viennese chairs were clearly not closely related to each other.

Starkov entered the office without knocking: Petrov hated the timid civilian “May I?” “If you have a business with me, come in; if not, you have nothing to do here!” The lieutenant-colonel immediately got up and left the table with the hand extended for the greeting.

“Hi, bro. Glad to see you… “without a noose around your neck.”

The lieutenant-colonel’s jokes were of the same epoch as the furniture, but the subordinates, as it was “prescribed by the charter”, laughed together, despite the fact, that these jokes could compete with the legendary “thousand Chinese warning” in terms of frequency of listening. Starkov limited himself to a slight deformation of the cheek as a sign of “comprehending” the joker and his joke.

“And I am glad to see you, bro. I would be even more glad, of course, when I saw you ‘in peacetime’, with a bottle of brandy in your hands and a pair of glasses.”

They laughed laconic. At the end of the process, Petrov pointed to a chair and sat down opposite.

“Well, let’s start, bro?”

Starkov raised his eyebrow slightly.

“Sorry?”

The lieutenant-colonel moved his eyebrows displeasedly, even his huge bald head, occupying ninety percent of the head area, reddened with displeasure.

“Do you think we are fools?”

Starkov laughed, and, as if surrendering to captivity, jokingly raised his hands.

“Neither for those, nor for others, Boris! You are my friend, comrade and even brother!”

“Okay,” the lieutenant-colonel smiled too. “You and I drank so much together… all the shit – and you decided that we leave you in trouble?! We never let each other down. Therefore, we will get out of this shit together!”

“I’m ready!” Starkov laughed, and immediately became serious, as if he himself commanded in the manner of Ostap Bender: “Oh, well, leave the laughter!” “Is the ‘object of work’… hmm…ready to work?”

Petrov, right over Starkov’s head, immediately waved his captain Andrey, who was leaning against the window sill.

“Bring him!”

They didn’t have to wait long: after two minutes Andrey pushed a lusty, red-haired and utterly pimply teenager, who was trembling like a classic bath leaf, into Petrov’s office.

“Sit here!” commanded Andrey, seating the newcomer on a chair. The chair was choosen even earlier – in strict accordance with the classics: strictly in the center. “Having arranged a temporary resident”, Andrey stood behind him: this was a classic also.

Petrov slowly – in spite of his lively character, he had already acquired a belly, even more “outstanding” in the context of his “meter with a cap” – got out of the table and approached the person under investigation.

“Did you kill the girl?”

This was a characteristic feature of the lieutenant-colonel: to straighten the road to the truth as much as possible. He never “suffered of all these approaches”, but he worked directly in the forehead – when with words, and when with deeds.

The youngster shook his whole body, although it was possible to confine his head.

“N-no…”

Petrov made a small circle near the chair and the “work object” sitting on it and again “went abreast”.

“Why did you stick a stick in the vagina?”

The “object” shook even more vigorously.

“What stick?”

“What stick?!” baldness of the lieutenant-colonel began to turn purple. “Now you find out, what stick is it!”

He returned to the table, rummaged in the drawer for a few seconds, and took out a rubber hose measuring eight inches in diameter. He patted the hose across the palm of his hand, approached the “object” and spread his legs wide apart, as if strengthening the point of support.

“Do you see this thing in my hands?”

The youngster, from somewhere below, gazed with caution at the “strange object”.

“I see.”

“Do you know what it is?”

Instead of answering, the youngster shook his head.

“Do you want to know?” the lieutenant colonel continued to approach him.

This time the answer was silence: the “object” had not yet decided, which answer would be less painful for him.

“But I will still say,” Petrov smiled somehow not kindly. “This is a rubber hose, but not simple, but filled with sand. Do you know why? And in order for people like you, then did not run to the forensic doctors for a certificate of injury! That’s because this thing leaves no traces! But what kind of ‘unforgettable sensations’ it gives, you cannot even imagine!”

The state of the “object” could already be defined by the words “neither is alive, nor is dead”. But the lieutenant colonel of this “intermediate state” was clearly not enough.

“Don’t you believe me?”

This is a tricky question: “I do not believe.” – “Then get it!”, “I believe.” – “Then confess!” The youngster gave an answer with his head – vertically: he ventured to “believe”. The lieutenant colonel slightly “passed back”: both in the sense of an onslaught, and simply moved one step back.

“Then answer: is it your comb?”

“W-what comb?”

Without looking back at Starkov, Petrov sent a palm over his shoulder, into which Alex promptly put the comb. Petin Jr. glanced at the comb and dropped his head.

“It’s my comb…”

“And the sneakers? Yours?”

Sneakers from Czechoslovakia were immediately offered to the “object”. Starkov raised an eyebrow in surprise: it doesn’t matter who got it, but the guys didn’t lose all the time in vain.

Petin glanced fearfully at the sneakers.

“Mine… probably…”

“What about this crap?”

Petrov stuck a plaster cast from the track right under his nose.

“Is it also yours?”

“What is it?” youngster flinched.

“It’s your sneaker, which was noted at the scene of the murder! The expertise has already proved that it is yours! Answer me, son of a bitch: did you kill?”

Petin convulsively shook his head, but he was prevented from completing the process by a rubber hose, that had passed impressively along his back.

“Aw!”

“It’s not ‘ay!’, but only the very beginning!”

“Mister policeman, I did not kill!” Petin whimpered.

“Still lying, you bastard! If you didn’t kill, how did your comb and the traces of your sneakers end up at the scene of the murder? Answer me!”

The hose was again the stimulating response. But the answer turned out to be the same, however, “in double volume”:

“Aw, aw!”

Petrov turned to Starkov.

“Bro, do you want… how to say this?”

“Do I want to see the sightseeing of the district department of internal affairs?” Starkov came to the rescue with a grin.

“Yes!”

Starkov shrugged.

“Well… I think half an hour is enough for me… I will give you as well… and to him…”

As soon as Alex closed the door, he heard three times from the office… no, not “hurray!”: “Aw, aw, aw!” Starkov, who had already set the direction to the dining room for the footsteps, suddenly stopped, silently moved his lips with a pensive look for a few moments, and turning abruptly, he headed in the opposite direction.

In the opposite side was the office of the head of CID (criminal investigation department), Major Lapin. The major, like all real detectives, who did not tolerate bureaucracy, gnashing his teeth, poured over the papers.

“Well, what, bro,” he instantly and even readily broke away from the papers, “did this son of a bitch confess?”

“Not yet. And I doubt…”

Wincing painfully, Starkov patted the earlobe. Lapin puzzled his lips in surprise.

“You think, that it’s not him?”

“God knows,” Starkov shrugged uncertainly. “He is shy for this business… Bro, have you sent a man to check his entourage yet?”

“We have already checked!”

Lapin even jumped up from the table.

“We got sneakers… and so on!”

“Have you been to school?”

The major turned his eyes away.

“Bro… we did not have time… But don’t worry: I will send a detective right now!”

“Do it, bro,” Starkov nodded approvingly. Let him ask the schoolchildren, if this youngster was pestering the girls, and how did they reject him? I am interested in Kotova most of all.”

“We’ll do it, bro!”

The major had already pressed the dial key. A few seconds later they responded from that end.

“Senior Lieutenant Koval. I have not had time to finish the report, sir. If you give me…”

“I’m not giving it!” Lapin “worked on the interception energetically”. “You will finish it later, and now run to the school! Ask if Petin molested the girls? Particular emphasis will be on Kotova: maybe, he harassed her. Pimply youngsters – they are all the same!”

“I’m already running, comrade major!”

Lapin pressed the key with his finger with force, and turned to Starkov with the air of a winner.

“Abgemaht, bro! Requests? Questions?”

Instead of answering, Starkov silently extended his hand to him and left the office.