Читать книгу Secret Target - Сергей Бакшеев - Страница 19

Ms. Broshina shuffled down the hall in her soft slippers. Chana jogged ahead, claws clicking along the hardwood floor.

«You’re welcome to come back any time you like, Lena dear,» the elderly lady intoned, seeing the detective out. She opened the door. «I can tell you so many interesting things – and not just about Maltsev – »

The pensioner cut herself short upon seeing a spunky young woman with violet bangs and heavy looking shoes out on the landing. The sharp-nosed girl had a large purse slung over her shoulder and was speaking with Dmitry Maltsev at his apartment door.

«Could you please tell me, Mr. Maltsev, what went through your mind when you learned that your wife wanted to kill you?»

Maltsev noticed the detective. The puzzled look on his face turned to displeasure.

«And how does it feel,» the woman warbled on, «to discover that you’ve lost two family members – your brother and your wife – at the same time? Surely, you won’t be able to forgive her after what she has done? Isn’t that so?»

«Please go away. I have nothing to say to you.»

«Domestic murders are a serious issue in this country. Getting your account published in our paper could land you guest appearances on TV!»

«Leave me alone!»

Maltsev tried to slam the door, but the intrepid reporter had taken the precaution to jam it with her shoe. The young woman deftly produced a camera from her tote and bright flashes began to slip and slide along Maltsev’s receding hairline. He flew into a rage, snatched the camera from her hand and hurled it down the stairs. The door slammed shut. The reporter threw up her hands helplessly.

«Did you see that? Did you?» she picked up the camera. «What a spaz. That’s the second camera in a month. What is wrong with people! He should be happy he isn’t dead. Why, he could be lying in the morgue right now with his head smashed in.»