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Tatiana Polyakova
Don't stir up the hornet's nest

* * *

The girl doesn't know everything yet
The girl will never understand him,
For a girl, he’s just a champion...

Banderos

That morning the traffic jams in the city were simply monstrous. It took me more than an hour to get to the office, abandoned the car in front of the entrance and ran up the steps. The door was locked, which means Vladan had not arrived yet. I breathed a sigh of relief, not that I was afraid of a reprimand for being late, the boss would hardly have paid attention to it, I just liked to come early, tidy up a little and start the coffee machine. The office space will be filled with the aroma of strong coffee, and Vladan will know that he is welcome here.

The office has long been my home, at least here I spent most of my time. Not at all for the reason that we have a lot of things to do. Two weeks have already passed since the last investigation, there have been no clients yet, which is why Vladan did not consider it necessary to sit in the office, although you don’t often find him here on other days. Investigation is a troublesome thing, you have to move around a lot. There was no need to keep the door open, waiting for random clients; more precisely, there was no talk of any clients from the street. People turned to Vladan for help, usually by recommendation. And he didn’t take on all the cases.

I must say that my boss is a legendary figure in these parts. If I wanted to write down everything that was said about his exploits, it would turn out to be a solid volume. By the way, I wouldn’t mind doing his biography at all - it interested me extremely, but I knew for sure that you wouldn’t get anything from Vladan. He treated conversations about himself with philosophical calm and never commented on them. At times he snorted mockingly, more often he waved it off indifferently. And without him, it is absolutely impossible to figure out what is true and what is fiction in the stories about him. A completely true story turned out to be an idle fiction, and the one that looked absolutely fantastic, on the contrary, was the pure truth. Having convinced myself of this a couple of times, I wisely decided not to believe anything in particular, but to take everything into account.

Need I say that I am in love with my boss? To be precise, I’m not just in love, he became the only man for me, the meaning of my whole life... I can continue ad infinitum. It's a pity that my love remains unanswered. At the time of our acquaintance, Marich already had a woman, and he was not going to change anything in his life, which he informed me about during the first attempts to force myself on him as a lover. But I insisted on working with him. Not a very equal exchange, but what can you do? Marinka, his girlfriend, claims that I awaken the paternal instinct in him. There was no joy from this, I definitely didn’t need another parent, I had to look for a father like mine, and I expected completely different feelings from Vladan. I suspect they still exist, although... In general, the question of whether there is or not is still very pressing, and I have not lost hope. But even if everything turns out badly for me, I’m unlikely to decide to change my life (Vladan and I are similar in this), because I absolutely can’t imagine this very life without him.

Just don’t think that I consider myself unhappy, quite the opposite. Your loved one is nearby, that’s the main thing. It would be much worse if we had never met at all. Now, I hope, it’s clear why I rush to work like it’s a holiday and sit in the office all day long. Of course, I was just eager for us to have another client. That’s why I was so happy about yesterday’s visitor, a respectably dressed older man who came closer to lunch. And then she called Vladan. The boss talked on the phone with the visitor for literally five minutes, and he left the office very dissatisfied.

In the evening, when Marich looked into the office, I grumpily asked:

– We don’t need clients?

He waved his hand indifferently:

– We need to spend the previous fee.

According to Vladan, he worked very reluctantly, and only when he needed money. But I didn’t really trust him on this issue, because I already knew him quite well. He had an unusually keen sense of justice, and he was also a kind person who knew how to sympathize. Although, if I had told this to Vladan, he would certainly have ridiculed me.

In general, we didn’t have a client, and in the near future, with my boss’s attitude to business, he was unlikely to appear. This means that I can only wait patiently, hoping that Marich misses me and will stop by the office a couple of times a day.

I opened the window and saw Tamara, the barmaid from the cafe across the street. She stood near the door, her hands on her wide hips, and looked out at the street with a frown.

“Hello,” I shouted and waved at her.

“Hello,” she responded. -Have you seen the boys? Some bastard kicked a ball at the window. So that he...

The windows looked intact, but just in case I asked:

- Broke?

– Should we wait until they break it?

Tamara disappeared into the cafe, and I noticed a sheet of paper lying on Vladan’s table and pressed down with a desk calendar so that it wouldn’t fly away. Until then, I simply did not pay attention to him. In Marich’s sweeping handwriting it was written: “You tired me a little, I decided to unwind. Consider yourself on vacation." We are me and Marinka, I guess.

“Terrible disgusting,” I muttered, plopping down in the boss’s chair. -What kind of vacation? And where is Vladan?

I almost roared with frustration, that is, I would certainly have roared, but then the front door slammed and Marinka appeared. The paradox is that if he had gone somewhere with her, I would have been calmer.

-Have you come? – asked the rival, deciding not to say hello, and sat down on the sofa.

Usually she did not stay in the office if Vladan was not there, however, recently there have been changes here too. Despite the fact that Marinka lived with Vladan (that is, they still lived in different apartments, albeit on the same staircase, another detail that allowed me to hope), so, despite this, I did not feel any hostility towards her, even vice versa. And she comes to me too. This is probably not normal, but we became friends, however, the rivalry has not disappeared. Marinka, like me, must have hoped that everything would resolve itself to everyone’s joy and well-being. For example, I will fall in love with someone else, get married and stop sitting in the office, being an eyesore to her. I dreamed that she would stop being an eyesore for me. It seems that our prayers were heard, but the Lord, as always, decided in his own way, it was not me or Marinka who disappeared, it was Vladan who disappeared.

“He left,” Marinka said. “So there’s no need for you to hang around here.”

– What difference does it make where you hang around? – I muttered.

“You could go somewhere,” she shrugged.

- Go yourself.

“Okay, I warned you...” She started to get up from the sofa, and I showed her the note. “So he came here,” she nodded.

-Where did he go? For how long? – Marinka shrugged her shoulders again. – How do we even understand this? Did he say anything to you? – I got angry.

- I left a note. I got up in the morning and he was gone. There's a note on the refrigerator.

- And what did you write?

– I advised, while there is time, to choose a place for a joint holiday. He’ll come back and fly to warm countries.

-Where is he now, in the cold?

Marinka headed towards the door, not wanting to answer. She was unusually quiet, and this alarmed me. She was tirelessly and passionately jealous of Vladan and was ready to throw a scandal at the slightest reason. And they made such a row that the whole street knew, that is, everyone could hear why this time Marinka decided that he was a dog, a damn womanizer and an ungrateful brute. For the first half hour he was usually silent, then he started yelling “jealous fool!”, “idiot” and “brainless chicken”. After which Marinka rushed to the attack and rewarded him with slaps. The blows were heard even on the street. He endured another twenty minutes, after which a loud crack followed and silence ensued.

“Let’s go fuck,” concluded the particularly advanced children who were sitting in a flock on the steps of the office; I must say that the street took great interest in these scandals, young and old froze in place, raising their heads to the treasured windows. Some specifically ran two blocks away.

Sometimes the scenario changed, and Vladan, instead of slapping Marinka in the face, threw something out the window, a chair, or Marinka’s favorite vase. Probably for this reason, she preferred to make trouble on his square meters, no matter what you throw out there, it’s still not a pity, it’s complete junk. At times I thought dreamily: it wouldn’t be a bad idea for him to throw Marinka himself away... But this was more likely out of envy. If I were that crazy woman, I wouldn’t start a row with him. Unfortunately, I am not in her place...

In general, her current behavior was confusing and even alarming. Here I noticed another detail that I had initially missed: Marinka’s outfit looked extremely modest: a skirt below the knee and a silk blouse with long sleeves. And this despite the fact that Marinka gravitated towards bright and rather revealing clothes, which allowed me to often accuse her of bad taste, of course, mentally. If I had said this out loud, it could have ended in a fight, and I'm not good at fist fights.

Marinka went down the steps, I watched her through the window. She slowly walked past her house, that is, she had no intention of returning to her place, but she was without a handbag. Where is she going then? Have you decided to go for a walk? Maybe Marinka didn’t tell everything, maybe she and Vladan quarreled, and he left in anger in an unknown direction? We need to ask Tamara whether there was a scandal yesterday or not?

Without really knowing why I was doing this, I grabbed my bag and hastily left the office and followed Marinka, keeping my distance.

She turned and I followed her. Now we walked along the boulevard and soon found ourselves near the church. The rival took a handkerchief from her pocket, tied it as she walked, and walked to the church doors, crossing herself three times. I didn’t know that she was a believer. Perhaps today is a big holiday... But judging by the fact that there are very few parishioners, it is unlikely that it really is a holiday.

Marinka disappeared behind the door, I stood around for a bit, not knowing what to do with myself, I thought about it and decided to go to the church after all. At the entrance, she took a scarf, choosing the most modest, pale blue one from the colored heap hanging on an outstretched rope, hastily tied it and began to look around. Marinka managed to buy candles and now, holding them in her hand, walked to the side aisle. I also bought candles and headed towards the altar, prayed as best I could, looking every now and then to see if Marinka would appear.

Half an hour passed, no less, and she still wasn’t there. I probably didn't notice she left. I didn’t expect prayerful zeal from her, but I looked into the chapel just in case. There was a miraculous icon of the Mother of God there, and Marinka prayed near it. Kneeling, earnestly, bowing, touching the metal tile floor with his forehead. Her gaze was fixed on the face of the Virgin Mary, and her lips moved silently.

“They definitely had a fight,” I thought, watching all this for some reason with great concern and certainly without a hint of joy or hope, which was simply bound to arise: what if they really ran away and now I’ll have a chance?

Marinka stood up heavily, crossed herself, kissed the icon, but even after that she did not leave. She stood with her head bowed, her arms hanging limply along her body. She looked like a person in great grief who came to church with her last hope.

I wanted to immediately hug her and say something comforting, like “don’t worry, he’ll come back.” Well, isn't it stupid? Good rivals!

I decisively headed towards Marinka. Sensing my presence, she turned, looked without surprise and said:

“Let’s go,” and then headed towards the exit.

I trudged along, preparing my speech. We found ourselves on the street, Marinka pulled the scarf from her head, and I remembered that I had to return mine, and rushed back. Marinka was patiently waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

- What's happened? – I asked, deciding not to beat around the bush.

She seemed surprised:

- Nothing. Everything is fine.

- Fine? Is that why you bang your forehead on the floor in church?

“What do you care, it’s my forehead,” she waved it off, for a moment becoming like the old Marinka. But only for a moment.

We walked side by side, returning to the office. She was silent, gloomily looking at her feet.

- Do you know where he is? – I couldn’t stand it.

“No,” she shook her head.

“But he told you something, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Marinka winced. - He left in the evening, citing business...

- Don't know. He muttered, “I have urgent business.” You know him... and in the morning there was a note.

- What about things? Did he take anything with him?

“Leave me alone,” she barked, but completely without malice, I would say with despair, if she were able to believe it: in fact, Marinka is a staunch tin soldier. We walked in silence for about five minutes, then I finally couldn’t stand it.

- Do you think he has someone? – asked quietly.

What if it's true? Women did not deprive him of attention, and that’s putting it mildly.

- What? – Marinka asked again, looking as if she didn’t understand the question, and then nodded: “Maybe there is.” How should I know? Let's wait for him and find out everything.

We had just approached the house where our office and her apartment were located. She nodded again, this time goodbye, and disappeared into the yard, leaving me completely bewildered.

“She doesn’t know,” I mimicked. - Well... so I’ll believe it.

I looked around, sighing pitifully, having no idea what to do. They share something there, and now it’s up to me to suffer. Where is justice in this world? Taking a second breath, I headed towards the cafe.

Tamara loomed in the window, clearly watching me. When I entered, she moved behind the counter. There was a fashion show on TV, the sound was off.

“Hello,” I said, sitting down on a high stool.

There were no visitors, they are rare at this time, it is unclear why the cafe should open so early? Out of naivety, I even tried to talk to Tamara about this topic, but I didn’t find a response. Here everyone followed the routine, and no one was in a hurry to change it.

-Where did you go? – Tamara asked, placing a cup of coffee in front of me.

Actually, she didn't particularly like me. But I had feelings for my boss that can safely be called boundless admiration. Whatever he did was reasonable and right. If Vladan wanted to do something blatantly stupid, for example, jump from the roof of his house, she would find an excuse for this and even see it as a sign of genius.

Tamara did not welcome my placement in the office and somehow openly stated: I am not a match for Vladan. Moreover, in her opinion, I am capable of ruining his life. That's nonsense. Who is ruining whose life here is still a big question.

“We were at church,” I answered hesitantly. – Marinka felt the urge to bow.

- Why suddenly? - Tamara was surprised, probably like me, having not noticed any special piety in her until this day.

- Looks like they had a fight. Was it noisy yesterday?

- Miracles. Marinka is kind of slow. And he even admits the idea that he has someone.

“By…” Tamara sang. “The whole area would have known long ago.” You can't hide here.

“Maybe he found someone in another area,” I quipped.

“Except for you,” the fat woman snorted. – Where is Vladan himself?

- This is unclear. He left notes and disappeared. Either late in the evening or early in the morning. He suggested that I go on vacation, and Marinka dream of hot countries. And not a hint of where he disappeared or when he would return. “And how she puts up with this,” I shook my head in frustration, meaning Marinka and knowing for sure that I myself would have put up with it too. What else remains?

As my tirade continued, the barmaid’s expression rapidly changed from curiously mocking to wary.

“Well, we’ll wait,” she said, frowning and crossing herself at the icon hanging in the corner away from prying eyes. - Protect him, Most Holy Theotokos.

This is where I suddenly felt uneasy. I quickly finished my coffee and returned to the office. First of all, I checked all the drawers in Vladan’s desk; he didn’t like such interference, and I could easily get into trouble if he found out about it. Although, as far as I know, my boss didn’t keep anything particularly noteworthy, much less valuable or important, here. Before I moved into the office, he often didn’t even lock the door. It is unlikely that this was a gesture of trust in his fellow citizens on his part, but rather a desire to demonstrate that he is at home here. But picking on Vladan is more expensive for himself, he is quick to deal with it, however, the locals considered this an advantage, and not at all a disadvantage. In general, it’s very stupid of me to go through the drawers of his desk; I won’t find any clue. What Maric wanted to hide remained a sealed secret for others.

In frustration, I closed the drawers and moved behind my desk. And then I remembered a recent incident, however, you couldn’t even call it an incident. About five days ago, Vladan and I were drinking coffee. He briefly stopped by the office with the intention of advising me to do something pleasant instead of hanging around here all day without any benefit. I muttered: “Actually, I work here,” he chuckled, but did not refuse the offered coffee. Hoping to keep him longer, I immediately began to prattle on, reporting local news that he already knew very well.

We were chatting nicely, and then his mobile phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket and frowned, but answered quickly. Only the number was displayed on the display, I could clearly see it, but the impression was created: Vladan understood who was calling him, that is, the number was known to him.

“Yes,” he said abruptly.

It was not possible to hear what the interlocutor was saying to him, but it was definitely a man calling. The conversation lasted half a minute, or rather, the man said something, Vladan replied:

“Okay,” and put away his mobile phone.

He suddenly lost interest in coffee and looked thoughtful. Of course, the caller was interested. It’s unlikely that this is a client, but I still asked:

– Will we have a job?

- What? – This is where it turned out: Vladan is in deep thought, since he ignored the question. “No,” he immediately waved it off.

- Who called?

- Familiar.

It is clear that the conversation on this topic is over, but my curiosity has only increased. Having finished his coffee, Vladan looked at his watch and said, getting up:

“Here you go,” I snorted. – What should I do at home?

- Think of something.

- What are you going to do?

- Rest, since you have such happiness.

He headed towards the door, and I followed him, hoping that we would stay together for a while longer. But he waved his hand, said “bye” and walked into the alley.

After a moment's consideration, I decided that he had an appointment. And she went after Vladan, keeping her distance. A stupid act, dictated by immoderate curiosity, and also idleness.

Vladan walked without turning around once, but I still stayed away from him. He disappeared into a grocery store, and I took up a position on the corner of the building so that if he appeared, I would have time to hide.

Ten minutes passed and I started to lose patience. What is he doing there for so long? It’s unlikely that he buys vegetables, Marinka is there for that, so he came in to chat with the owner? I shifted from foot to foot, wondering if I should come closer, and almost yelped in surprise when I felt someone’s hand on my elbow. The hand belonged to Maric, and he himself stood behind me, frowning sternly.

“Hello,” I beamed with a smile.

- Why the hell did you follow me? – he inquired grumpily.

- Nothing like that, I just...

“The girl is a liar,” he chuckled.

– Do you have anything to hide? – I quipped in retaliation.

- Of course not.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

-Where are you going?

He sighed heavily:

- Go home.

“It’s still suspicious that you want to get rid of me so much.”

“I’ve stopped even dreaming about it,” he said.

And I said:

- Oh my God! Where did you get the idea? Okay, let's go, otherwise God knows what you're inventing.

We returned to the office, but did not go into it. Vladan headed to his car, and I followed him.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up near the embankment.

“Sit here,” Vladan ordered, leaving the jeep.

– And what will I see here? – I grimaced.

-What would you like? “He slammed the door, not at all expecting an answer to his question, and walked along the alley towards the river. I reached an observation deck with a fountain and sat down on a bench.

There weren’t many tourists that day, I continued to watch Vladan, wondering who would appear now. It turned out that he had already appeared. A man in a white T-shirt was sitting on a bench with a newspaper in his hand. When Vladan sat down on the same bench, the man rolled up the newspaper and said something to him, holding it out to him. Vladan put the newspaper in his jacket pocket, and they chatted for about two minutes, looking at the river. Then Vladan stood up, shook the man’s hand and walked towards me.

-What kind of newspaper is this? – I asked as soon as he sat down next to me.

“Just a newspaper,” Maric seemed surprised.

-You don't read newspapers.

- You know a lot.

He started the car and threw the newspaper into my lap. I grabbed it and carefully looked through all twelve pages. Nothing interesting.

- Why do you need it? – I asked pleadingly.

“To fight off mosquitoes,” he answered seriously.

-Who was this guy?

- Old friend. I wanted to hear some advice.

- I heard. I hope you can go home now?

We said goodbye near the office, and an hour later I forgot about this story. And now I remember. The call, the meeting on the embankment, the unexpected departure of Marich. Marinka bows in church, and Tamara frowns and also crosses herself.

The picture was, frankly speaking, alarming. Of course, I have heard more than once conversations about my boss carrying out tasks for the intelligence services. Allegedly from the war in Bosnia, in which he happened to participate as a boy. His connections are enviable, I knew this for certain: his “acquaintances” were in the most unexpected places. Again, I could not help but pay attention to the special attitude of law enforcement officers towards Vladan, which indirectly indicated that the rumors were not so groundless. But during the time I was working for him, it was the first time he disappeared like that. One thing is clear: what is a novelty for me, for Marinka and even Tamara, is rather a familiar thing. Remembering all the nuances of our meeting with my opponent today, I involuntarily shuddered: it’s scary to even think about where Maric could be now. Grabbing my bag, I rushed to the church and prayed for a long time at the icon of the Mother of God, very much hoping that I would be heard.

Now fear and anxiety were added to the melancholy due to his absence. It’s unlikely that Marinka knows much more than I do. In any case, there is no use asking her. What if he left for a long time? If only he came back alive. And quickly.

I still went to Marinka, hoping, if not to discuss my guesses, then at least to just talk about Maricha, but I didn’t find her at home. It turned out that I really had nothing to do in the office. Deciding to visit my dad, I headed to the car. This is better than rushing around within four walls in extreme anxiety.

As soon as I started moving, a flock of boys appeared from the gateway. The oldest was about thirteen years old and walked slightly ahead. To his left, a curly-haired boy with such a freckled face was jumping merrily in time with the ball he was hitting on the asphalt that the brownie from the cartoon immediately came to mind. Red hair sparkled dazzlingly in the sun. I didn’t know any of the boys, and this was a little surprising. In this area, hanging out on someone else's territory is dangerous. They fought here desperately, street to street, and, despite the young age of the fighters, the fights were very bloody. According to Tamara, last week one of the boys’ nose was broken.

Red-haired, who until that moment had deftly handled the ball, looked at my car, and the ball rolled under the wheels, I, as luck would have it, increased the speed and simply did not have time to maneuver, and there were no special opportunities for maneuver, except to fly out onto the sidewalk, but there were passers-by on the sidewalk at that moment. In general, the fate of the ball was predetermined. The boys froze, gasping in unison, and I slowed down belatedly. The ball remained on the asphalt, presenting a rather pitiful sight.

“Sorry,” I said, opening the window.

The elder slapped Red on the back of the head and muttered:

- It's my own fault.

There were tears in Red’s eyes, and not at all because of the blow; he looked at the former ball, as one looks at a beloved, from whom they are parting forever.

The redhead took the ball, or rather, what was left of it, and now walked behind everyone, holding it under his arm. It's unclear what he planned to do with it. “It’s unlikely that it can be repaired,” I thought. By the way, under other circumstances this incident could have backfired on me; the local boys are very inventive and take revenge on their offenders fiercely and mercilessly. It didn’t cost them anything to screw up the wheels or break out the window of the car. But if they were harboring plans for revenge, they would have already told me about it. More precisely, they would demand a new ball, colorfully outlining what would happen if I didn’t do this. Instead, they shifted the blame onto Red and left. Their complaisance was explained simply: they recognized me. The fact that I work for Vladan decided everything, making me an inviolable person for the local punks.

The incident distracted me a little from my anxious thoughts about Maricha; I drove towards my parents’ house and called my father on the way.

-Are you very busy today? – I asked when dad answered.

– I have a meeting in the evening, but I can reschedule.

- No need. How about we have lunch together?

- Great idea. Can you drive up to the Wind Rose?

- Certainly.

- I'll be there in an hour.

I still had a lot of time left. The restaurant was located on the embankment, and I left my car in the parking lot and decided to take a walk along the river. Returning back, I noticed my father’s car, he apparently arrived earlier, there were about twenty minutes left before the appointed time. Before I had time to rejoice, I came across another familiar car and shook my head. Did dad really give up the idea of reconciling me with my ex-husband? He hasn’t started any conversations on this topic lately, and I calmed down. It turns out she was in a hurry.

I finally went up to the veranda of the restaurant and immediately saw my father in the company of Zabelin, they were drinking coffee and chatting leisurely. The former was sitting facing me and noticed me before my father; a smile appeared on his face, with which martyred parents usually look at their foolish child.

Dad turned and waved to me. My ex-husband is a rare bastard, but dad, unfortunately, doesn’t know about it.

When I was still in school, Zabelin kidnapped me, the ransom cost my parent a lot of money, and I suffered several years of mental torment and complexes. I didn’t see the kidnapper, and he was never found. But one day he himself appeared in the role of a handsome prince, and I was such a fool that I fell head over heels in love with him. However, after a year of living together, I had suspicions, which Zabelin met with ridicule; he was sure: the fool in love, that is, I, would not get away from him. And he miscalculated. We separated and even concluded something like a mutual non-aggression agreement. Dad had great sympathy for his son-in-law, Zabelin could pretend to be a great guy if he wanted, and he also turned out to be a smart businessman, and my father always dreamed of a son-heir; I’m unlikely to make a businessman. In general, I didn’t want to upset him even more. Zabelin came up with a reason for the divorce, which I did not refute, and remained in good standing with my dad. I knew that they continued to see each other, moreover, they had joint projects, but by an unspoken agreement with my father, we avoided such meetings. And here you go.

“Hi,” I said, not even trying to hide my displeasure.

- Hello, honey. “Dad got up and kissed me.

Zabelin jumped up and carefully pulled up a chair with the air of a well-bred boy who knows how to behave in society. You'll never guess that he's mocking you. However, seizing the moment, he winked at me, saying, shall we play? I really wanted to say something nasty, but it would have really upset dad. Not only did the foolish daughter divorce such a treasure, but her manners also let her down.

I was sure that Zabelin would continue to have fun, portraying the prince in exile, but he probably remembered our agreement and decided not to run into trouble, saying with slight sadness:

“I won’t bother you,” and he quickly took his leave, which made him very happy.

Dad said goodbye to him in the most friendly manner and even sighed, looking after him, although he tried to do it unnoticed. It’s a mystery to me how my father, an intelligent man and, of course, a good judge of people, still does not understand who he is dealing with. Either Valerka is an actor from God, or we are all ready to be deceived in order to preserve the little world we have built, where everything is familiar and understandable.

Dad, noticing my gaze, said grumpily:

- I did not mean to.

“I hope so,” I nodded. – Bringing Zabelin and I together is a pretty stupid idea.

– I would like to know why?

– We have already discussed this.

“That’s not true,” the father continued to grumble. – We can only guess about the reason for your persistent hostility towards your husband.

“To my ex-husband,” I corrected, and dad did not deny himself the pleasure of being sarcastic:

- Unfortunately. And don't look like that. Valera and I met an hour ago and were planning to leave before you arrived. You arrived a little earlier.

- Sorry.

- Do not be silly. Tell me better, how are you doing?

“It’s bad,” I sighed.

- What's happened? – the father was wary.

– Maric sent me on vacation. And I have no idea what to do with myself.

– Is he also resting? With your girlfriend? Are you really satisfied with your... how to put it mildly... unusual relationship?

– Dad, what’s unusual here? I love him, but he doesn’t love me. Have you never heard of this?

- Sorry, but this is some kind of whim, just like your work. With your diploma...” Here the father waved his hand and added softer: “Maybe you can work for me for now?” Temporarily, since your Maric is on vacation?

“I’m quite happy with my job, it’s just that without Vladan the world fades and melancholy creeps in.” You won't believe it, but I'm quite happy, dad. If only he would come back soon.

The father shook his head and sighed:

– Maybe such feelings are good for novels, but for my daughter I would like family happiness, a caring husband and children, two, or better yet three. I dream of becoming a grandfather, and your unhappy love is simply scary. There is one consolation: it must end someday.

“Everything ends someday,” I didn’t argue.

The waiter came up, my dad and I placed our order and continued the conversation, avoiding the topic of Vladan and my work. We won’t reach agreement on this issue, but I didn’t want to spoil each other’s appetite.

“If you already have a vacation, you could go somewhere,” said the father.

- Maybe I’ll go. Later.

– Will you sit in the office? – he frowned. - What's the point of this? Okay, do as you please.

Don't stir up the hornet's nest

Adventurous detective

Me and Vladan Maric – 3

* * *

The girl doesn't know everything yet

The girl will never understand him,

For a girl, he’s just a champion...

Banderos

If adventures somehow don’t appear in your life, then... sometimes you go after them yourself, without even knowing it. And there you don’t know whether to rejoice or be sad; you have to deal with all the problems that appeared as if out of nowhere and began to grow like a snowball. The main character of Tatyana Polyakova’s novel “Don’t stir up the hornet’s nest” can be classified as such a category of people. This is already the third book in which the writer talks about the work and relationship of Polina and Vladan Maric, and it is read with the same interest as the previous ones. The novel contains a fascinating detective plot, the outcome will be unexpected. But there is still a fairly bright romantic line. If you look closely, the relationship between not two or three people emerges, but a whole polygon, and it is already difficult to figure out whose side love, fate and justice are on.

After Vladan Maric left in an unknown direction, Polina literally lost peace. She finds no place for herself, she only thinks when he will arrive so that she can see her loved one again. She realizes that she is hopelessly in love with him, but she agrees to just be around, enjoying communication with him. Of course, Polina wants more, and given that she has a rival, she has to be on her guard, but if the relationship is not developing, then at least let it be as it is.

Usually Vladan, as a specialist, investigates only complex cases. But this time a different situation arose. Polina went on business to a very dangerous area and in the gateway she saw a woman bleeding. The ambulance did not have time to come to the rescue, and then the girl decided to figure out for herself who this woman was, what happened to her... And Vladan, who returned from the trip, had only to save Polina, who had stirred up a hornet's nest...

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* * *

The girl doesn't know everything yet
The girl will never understand him,
For a girl, he’s just a champion...

In the evening, when Marich looked into the office, I grumpily asked:

– We don’t need clients?

He waved his hand indifferently:

– We need to spend the previous fee.

I opened the window and saw Tamara, the barmaid from the cafe across the street. She stood near the door, her hands on her wide hips, and looked out at the street with a frown.

“Hello,” I shouted and waved at her.

“Hello,” she responded. -Have you seen the boys? Some bastard kicked a ball at the window. So that he...

The windows looked intact, but just in case I asked:

- Broke?

– Should we wait until they break it?

“Terrible disgusting,” I muttered, plopping down in the boss’s chair. -What kind of vacation? And where is Vladan?

-Have you come? – asked the rival, deciding not to say hello, and sat down on the sofa.

– What difference does it make where you hang around? – I muttered.

“You could go somewhere,” she shrugged.

- Go yourself.

“Okay, I warned you...” She started to get up from the sofa, and I showed her the note. “So he came here,” she nodded.

-Where did he go? For how long? – Marinka shrugged her shoulders again. – How do we even understand this? Did he say anything to you? – I got angry.

- I left a note. I got up in the morning and he was gone. There's a note on the refrigerator.

- And what did you write?

– I advised, while there is time, to choose a place for a joint holiday. He’ll come back and fly to warm countries.

-Where is he now, in the cold?

Without really knowing why I was doing this, I grabbed my bag and hastily left the office and followed Marinka, keeping my distance.

I wanted to immediately hug her and say something comforting, like “don’t worry, he’ll come back.” Well, isn't it stupid? Good rivals!

I decisively headed towards Marinka. Sensing my presence, she turned, looked without surprise and said:

“Let’s go,” and then headed towards the exit.

- What's happened? – I asked, deciding not to beat around the bush.

She seemed surprised:

- Nothing. Everything is fine.

- Fine? Is that why you bang your forehead on the floor in church?

“What do you care, it’s my forehead,” she waved it off, for a moment becoming like the old Marinka. But only for a moment.

We walked side by side, returning to the office. She was silent, gloomily looking at her feet.

- Do you know where he is? – I couldn’t stand it.

“No,” she shook her head.

“But he told you something, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Marinka winced. - He left in the evening, citing business...

- Don't know. He muttered, “I have urgent business.” You know him... and in the morning there was a note.

- What about things? Did he take anything with him?

- Do you think he has someone? – asked quietly.

What if it's true? Women did not deprive him of attention, and that’s putting it mildly.

- What? – Marinka asked again, looking as if she didn’t understand the question, and then nodded: “Maybe there is.” How should I know? Let's wait for him and find out everything.

We had just approached the house where our office and her apartment were located. She nodded again, this time goodbye, and disappeared into the yard, leaving me completely bewildered.

“She doesn’t know,” I mimicked. - Well... so I’ll believe it.

Tamara loomed in the window, clearly watching me. When I entered, she moved behind the counter. There was a fashion show on TV, the sound was off.

“Hello,” I said, sitting down on a high stool.

-Where did you go? – Tamara asked, placing a cup of coffee in front of me.

“We were at church,” I answered hesitantly. – Marinka felt the urge to bow.

- Why suddenly? - Tamara was surprised, probably like me, having not noticed any special piety in her until this day.

- Looks like they had a fight. Was it noisy yesterday?

- Miracles. Marinka is kind of slow. And he even admits the idea that he has someone.

“By…” Tamara sang. “The whole area would have known long ago.” You can't hide here.

“Maybe he found someone in another area,” I quipped.

“Except for you,” the fat woman snorted. – Where is Vladan himself?

As my tirade continued, the barmaid’s expression rapidly changed from curiously mocking to wary.

“Well, we’ll wait,” she said, frowning and crossing herself at the icon hanging in the corner away from prying eyes. - Protect him, Most Holy Theotokos.

“Yes,” he said abruptly.

It was not possible to hear what the interlocutor was saying to him, but it was definitely a man calling. The conversation lasted half a minute, or rather, the man said something, Vladan replied:

“Okay,” and put away his mobile phone.

He suddenly lost interest in coffee and looked thoughtful. Of course, the caller was interested. It’s unlikely that this is a client, but I still asked:

– Will we have a job?

- What? – This is where it turned out: Vladan is in deep thought, since he ignored the question. “No,” he immediately waved it off.

- Who called?

- Familiar.

It is clear that the conversation on this topic is over, but my curiosity has only increased. Having finished his coffee, Vladan looked at his watch and said, getting up:

“Here you go,” I snorted. – What should I do at home?

- Think of something.

- What are you going to do?

- Rest, since you have such happiness.

He headed towards the door, and I followed him, hoping that we would stay together for a while longer. But he waved his hand, said “bye” and walked into the alley.

After a moment's consideration, I decided that he had an appointment. And she went after Vladan, keeping her distance. A stupid act, dictated by immoderate curiosity, and also idleness.

“Hello,” I beamed with a smile.

- Why the hell did you follow me? – he inquired grumpily.

- Nothing like that, I just...

“The girl is a liar,” he chuckled.

– Do you have anything to hide? – I quipped in retaliation.

- Of course not.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

-Where are you going?

He sighed heavily:

- Go home.

“It’s still suspicious that you want to get rid of me so much.”

“I’ve stopped even dreaming about it,” he said.

And I said:

- Oh my God! Where did you get the idea? Okay, let's go, otherwise God knows what you're inventing.

We returned to the office, but did not go into it. Vladan headed to his car, and I followed him.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up near the embankment.

-What kind of newspaper is this? – I asked as soon as he sat down next to me.

“Just a newspaper,” Maric seemed surprised.

-You don't read newspapers.

- You know a lot.

He started the car and threw the newspaper into my lap. I grabbed it and carefully looked through all twelve pages. Nothing interesting.

- Why do you need it? – I asked pleadingly.

“To fight off mosquitoes,” he answered seriously.

-Who was this guy?

- Old friend. I wanted to hear some advice.

- I heard. I hope you can go home now?

“Sorry,” I said, opening the window.

The elder slapped Red on the back of the head and muttered:

- It's my own fault.

There were tears in Red’s eyes, and not at all because of the blow; he looked at the former ball, as one looks at a beloved, from whom they are parting forever.

The incident distracted me a little from my anxious thoughts about Maricha; I drove towards my parents’ house and called my father on the way.

-Are you very busy today? – I asked when dad answered.

– I have a meeting in the evening, but I can reschedule.

- No need. How about we have lunch together?

- Great idea. Can you drive up to the Wind Rose?

- Certainly.

- I'll be there in an hour.

Dad turned and waved to me. My ex-husband is a rare bastard, but dad, unfortunately, doesn’t know about it.

“Hi,” I said, not even trying to hide my displeasure.

- Hello, honey. “Dad got up and kissed me.

I was sure that Zabelin would continue to have fun, portraying the prince in exile, but he probably remembered our agreement and decided not to run into trouble, saying with slight sadness:

“I won’t bother you,” and he quickly took his leave, which made him very happy.

Dad, noticing my gaze, said grumpily:

- I did not mean to.

“I hope so,” I nodded. – Bringing Zabelin and I together is a pretty stupid idea.

– I would like to know why?

– We have already discussed this.

“That’s not true,” the father continued to grumble. – We can only guess about the reason for your persistent hostility towards your husband.

“To my ex-husband,” I corrected, and dad did not deny himself the pleasure of being sarcastic:

- Unfortunately. And don't look like that. Valera and I met an hour ago and were planning to leave before you arrived. You arrived a little earlier.

- Sorry.

- Do not be silly. Tell me better, how are you doing?

“It’s bad,” I sighed.

- What's happened? – the father was wary.

– Maric sent me on vacation. And I have no idea what to do with myself.

– Is he also resting? With your girlfriend? Are you really satisfied with your... how to put it mildly... unusual relationship?

“I’m quite happy with my job, it’s just that without Vladan the world fades and melancholy creeps in.” You won't believe it, but I'm quite happy, dad. If only he would come back soon.

The father shook his head and sighed:

“Everything ends someday,” I didn’t argue.

“If you already have a vacation, you could go somewhere,” said the father.

- Maybe I’ll go. Later.

– Will you sit in the office? – he frowned. - What's the point of this? Okay, do as you please.

I mentally sighed, the trouble is that I have absolutely nothing to do. Maybe we should invite Marinka to the cinema?

An hour and a half later, we said goodbye to dad, after lunch we took a short walk along the embankment.

After some thought, I went to the office. Once again I wiped off the dust, washed the floors and sorted out the papers, mainly utility bills. I thought that Marinka should be back by now. I was just about to call her when she appeared. The front door slammed, and after that Marinka looked into the office.

-Are you still sitting? – asked gloomily.

- What does it matter to you, pray tell?

I immediately stopped wanting to invite her to the cinema.

“You don’t have a lot of money,” Marinka continued. “I could find some fun.”

“I haven’t made my first million yet,” I quipped. – But on principle I don’t want to take it from dad. Would you like to relax somewhere?

- Necessarily. “I’ll rest with Vladan,” Marinka quipped in response, but was in no hurry to leave, from which I concluded: she was as sick as I was.

Having poured water into the kettle, I waited for it to boil, brewed tea, poured it into cups and served one to Marinka.

- Do you have any candy? – the rival muttered.

- Jam. Vladan doesn't like candy.

– He doesn’t like jam either. Let's have what we have.

We drank tea in silence.

“You really don’t know where he is?” – I asked anyway. She just shook her head. - He recently met with some guy...

Marinka nodded in response to these words.

– Does he often disappear like this?

This time she shrugged.

- Differently. Last year often, but this is the first time. Don’t talk too much about it, just leave and leave.

– Tamara seems to guess.

“You can’t hide an awl in a bag, but keep quiet anyway.” Let's go to the cinema, shall we? – getting up, she suggested. “That’s why it’s so: there’s chronically not enough time, but he left, and there seems to be nothing to do.”

I had to agree with this. And we went to the cinema, and then walked for another hour. The evening was warm, the sky was starry, it was a sin to sit at home. Our promenade did not go unnoticed, neighbors loomed in the windows, passers-by turned around. The thoughts of both were easily read on their faces; in theory, we should dislike each other (in this, by the way, I agreed with the citizens), and we were walking almost arm in arm.

“If you want, stay with me,” Marinka said when I was getting ready to go home.

“Thank you,” I replied, deciding that this was too much.

Does she think I’ll throw myself under the nearest locomotive? So, I went home. I read a romance novel until about twelve o’clock, and then chatted on Skype with my friend. By the way, she has visions, and in one of them, which happened the other day, I, cheerful and, of course, happy, walked arm in arm with a man. I hope with Vladan, everyone else doesn’t interest me at all. Convincing myself that this was a good sign, I went to bed in a peaceful state of mind.

In the morning, on the way to the office, I noticed the window of a sporting goods store and remembered the ball that had ended its existence under the wheels of my car. I pulled into the parking lot and went to buy a ball. I spent about half an hour choosing a worthy copy and arrived at the office noticeably late.

A surprise awaited me here. Bud, that is, Alexey Dmitrievich Basargin, was sitting on the steps. He received the nickname Bud from the first letters of his last name, first name and patronymic. It stuck to him as a child, when he formed a gang on his street. Unlike Vladan, Bud left this area a long time ago, lived in a luxurious apartment in the very center, and, if you believe his words, the cheerful, as he put it, past was left far behind. Now he is a businessman and law-abiding citizen. I agree with the first, the second raised doubts, albeit timidly, because, to tell the truth, I knew nothing about Bud’s affairs. They had been friends with Vladan since they could remember. Over the years, their friendship only grew stronger, but a few years ago life separated them far and, it seemed, forever. At least, Vladan did not want to know his former friend. I had some idea about the reasons, which is why not all of Vladan’s claims seemed justified to me. But now there are changes here too. They didn’t go arm in arm like Marinka and I did yesterday, but they already drank beer a couple of times, which I know for certain.

My relationship with Bud could be called friendly and ironic. He loved to make fun of me, and I responded with impudence, which plunged Marinka into amazement: no one in the foreseeable space could afford anything like that with Bud.

In general, his appearance that morning was not a bolt from the blue, given the emerging improvement in relations between him and my boss. But it still caused surprise: if he is sitting this morning not in his office, but next to ours, then there must be a good reason for this.

Seeing me, Alexey smiled, squinting in the sun, he pushed his sunglasses onto his forehead and said, nodding at the ball in my hands:

- Shall we play?

“I only know how to play frog,” I answered, sitting down next to Bud and putting the ball on the step.

- Will you teach me?

-Are you on business?

“I miss you,” he chuckled.

– I’ll still be bored, Vladan decided to rest a little.

- From overwork?

- No, from Marinka and me. At least that's what was in his note, and doubting the boss's words is bad form.

“Is that why you have a sad face?” – Bud showed curiosity.

– Mordakha is just rumpled, she watched the series until the morning.

- Stupid.

- It's clear. Don’t worry, your employer will return safe and sound, maybe a little tanned.

- Why? – I was wary.

- What "Why"? – Bud frowned, feigning bewilderment.

- Why tanned? You didn't just say that, did you?

- Oh my God…

- Do you know where he is?

- I have no idea.

- You're lying. You know.

We gradually began to make trouble, and then Alexey waved his hand in annoyance.

- I managed to blurt out. I swear I don't know anything, I'm just... guessing. Where is the biggest mess right now?

“Do you think...” I gasped, and he interrupted:

- All. Leave me alone. The Serb will return, and we’ll ask him where he’s been. By the way, I came to see you, I miss you. For you, not for Vladan.

- Who said I was boring?

- I missed your tediousness. Shall we have dinner together in the evening?

- Let's go to the cinema instead.

“If you want...” he shrugged, bored. - Why in the movies?

– Yesterday we went with Marinka, today we went with you. Hollywood can't keep up with us.

– For me, a good drinking session with an element of light rowdy definitely won’t hurt you. Again, I'm hoping to seduce you. The best time is while this guy is somewhere. I hope you haven’t made much progress in your desires for his hot body?

- Don't croak, you bastard. I don't lose hope.

- Me too. Yesterday I had a dream, I was walking you down the aisle, you were all so beautiful, in white with iridescence, and I was next to nothing either.

“I also sometimes have nightmares when I’m drunk,” I answered, but I panicked a little, remembering my friend’s dream. “You need to know when to stop, otherwise you’ll see something even worse.”

- I was happy. But not for long. To be honest, there was a continuation: a Serb appeared, took you by the hand and led you to the altar, and told me “you’ll trample.” That's disgusting.

“I like this kind of dream,” I said. “That’s how I would sleep around the clock and go to the altar with him.”

- How about dinner?

- I am on a diet. Make someone else happy, that is, someone else, I wanted to say.

“You broke my heart,” Bud sighed. – I’m lonely and endlessly unhappy...

“You have the conscience to fool people,” I continued in his tone. – I’m sure you have about a dozen girls. Blondes, brunettes and redheads - match the color of different ties.

- Finger to the sky. The latter turned out to have a shaved head. Didn't match any of my suits. I had to say goodbye to her. It's a pity, she was a good girl.

- Maybe I should shave too? Vladan will decide that I am terminally ill and will fulfill my cherished wish.

- Let me do it?

“Let’s go somewhere...” I stood up, and so did Bud, laughing.

- Why do you need the ball? – he asked, taking the ball from my hands and began to hit it on the asphalt.

“I owe it to one guy.”

- So how about dinner?

- I'll think about it.

He returned the ball, kissing my forehead, and went to his car, leaving me wondering: why did he come? The rumor about Vladan had reached him, so he decided to check it out?

“If no suit fits, I’m ready to go naked,” he shouted, already getting into the car, and I waved my hand to him.

In the office, I once again started cleaning. The cleanliness of the office could now compete with the operating room, but despite all my efforts, I could not occupy myself for more than two hours, thinking with horror that the whole day lay ahead. God knows how many more days like this are left before Vladan returns. At least some potential client came, everything is more fun.

Every now and then I looked out the window, hoping to spot yesterday’s boys. The street has definitely died out.

Closer to lunch, I went to Tamara; I didn’t feel like eating, but I didn’t mind drinking coffee and chatting a little. As I was crossing the road, a familiar boy appeared at the end of the street. Standing near the door of the bar, I waited for him to approach.

“Hello,” he said, extending his hand to me.

It is customary to shake hands with serious people; the local boys followed this rule, which personally caused me a well-concealed emotion. Of course, I found myself among the “serious” people thanks to Vladan, and not for my own merits, which I hardly had from the point of view of the locals, which, by the way, is completely fair.

Alik was eleven, he couldn’t boast of height, he reached up to my shoulder, but, of course, he felt his superiority, being a man, that is, stronger and paradoxically older. There’s definitely nothing that can be done about this, and I’ve come to terms with it a long time ago, although sometimes I really wanted to slap “real men” like Alik.

“Hello,” I answered, shaking the outstretched hand as firmly as possible.

– Has Vladan been gone for a long time?

“What kind of area is this?” – I thought, and in response I said:

- Who knows?

Alik, frowning sternly, nodded in understanding:

“Well, help me, Lord,” he said, repeating a phrase he had heard somewhere.

I was surprised and couldn’t resist asking:

– You seem to be a Muslim, no?

“There is one God,” Alik declared with the air of a real preacher. “And everyone can pray to Him as they see fit.” By the way, this is what Vladan said.

“Well, if Vladan said...” I sighed.

I have already spoken about the special attitude towards Maric here, but Alik belonged to that category of locals who considered my boss practically a saint, and the fact that he walks down the street without a halo over his head only testifies to his modesty and indifference to hats.

To be honest, Alik had a reason for this. A year ago, the boy’s mother fell ill, Vladan paid for an expensive operation. Alik lived with his relatives while his mother was in the hospital, but Vladan visited him every day, convincing him that his mother would be in complete order. Fortunately, it all ended that way. Just don’t think that my employer has only friends and admirers here; there are also plenty of enemies.

Finally, I decided to distract myself from Marich’s personality and get to the point:

- Strangers? - Alik asked, in the original it should have sounded like: “without a declaration of war, the enemy invaded our great Motherland...” and further in the text. Strangers really didn’t walk here unless there was a particular need, mainly for the sake of their own safety.

“Yes,” I nodded. “I accidentally crushed their soccer ball.”

“Ah,” Alik rejoiced. – Yesterday there was a friendly match outside the school.

- Did ours win?

- They blew it. Two zero. That's right, you crushed the ball to these bastards.

– Squeezing balls in retaliation is unsporting. That's what Vladan said, by the way. Who did you play with?

- With Bars.

- Where are they from?

- From the bottom.

Here it is necessary to clarify: the area spread around the old market was popularly called Yama because of its specific location, and the name fully justified this in a completely different sense. It looks like the authorities gave up on him a long time ago. The bottom is the lowest point of the Pit, slums, closely adjacent to the market, something akin to favelas, even the locals tried not to look there, and the punks were considered completely frostbitten. It’s not surprising that our guys blew it; the “divers,” as the inhabitants of the Bottom were called, probably caused a real massacre.

- They have a Red one there, with freckles. He was carrying the ball.

“Rupa,” Alik nodded.

- Is this a nickname?

- Nope, name.

- Okay, fill it up. There is no such name.

- I'm telling you, there is.

– Let’s say, although the boy looks like a Russian. Where does this exoticness come from?

“He looks like a red scarecrow,” Alik chuckled. - Is it Russian or not... They all live there mixed up, you know. Name is Rupert, that's for sure.

“Oh my God,” I mentally gasped. “How is he here with such a name and a crazy mother to boot?”

“It seems like his father gave him the ball.” Although he never had any father. And suddenly here you are. Rupa just didn’t pray for this ball.

“Fathers sometimes appear,” I remarked peacefully, Alik chuckled angrily.

- Yeah. Mommy found someone. At first they give you balls, but when they take root, they give you nothing but slaps on the head. Vovan from house thirty-seven now also has a father. Vovan has been living in the attic for two weeks.

– Where can I find Rupa?

- Give me the ball.

– So I ask: where to look for him?

- Are you a fool, or what, to meddle in the Bottom? – Alik was indignant. - There are some crazy people there. He can live without the ball. When Vladan returns, then you’ll give it back. By the way, a ball wouldn't hurt us either.

“I didn’t crush yours, so you’ll get over it.”

– What did you chat with Alik about? – the fat woman asked as soon as I settled down at the counter. Her curiosity was downright pathological.

– I asked about one boy. I accidentally crushed his ball yesterday.

- One of ours?

- Alik says - from the “divers”.

- Do you really want to go there? – she snorted.

“By the way,” I got angry, “this is just an urban area.” Yes, not the best, but people like us live there.

“People like you live in mansions along the river.” Does your dad have a house there? And your apartment is in the very center.

- And what? – I chuckled.

After these words, I wanted to immediately go to the Bottom, but common sense prevailed. Hanging around the slums there alone is not the smartest thing to do. How can I pass the ball then? I put off solving this issue until the next day, but nothing sensible came to mind.

In the evening Bud showed up and we went to dinner. We didn't get drunk, but we had a pleasant time. A couple of times I wondered: Is Bud being nice and helpful to me out of great friendship with Vladan, or does he really like me? It turned out differently, sometimes it seemed to me that I liked me, sometimes it became obvious: this was just friendly chatter, and nothing more. However, I wasn’t that interested in the answer.

My car remained near the office, where we returned closer to midnight. I went home, Bud accompanied me in his BMW, waited until I entered the entrance, but did not leave immediately, but only after I turned on the light in the kitchen and went to the window. He flashed his headlights and set off, and I thought: Bud considers it his duty, while Vladan is away, to protect me and even entertain me. Or maybe Vladan asked him?

Thoughts about Maricha caused the usual anxiety, and before going to bed, I prayed for a long time, taking from the shelf a collection I bought at church, which contained prayers for all occasions.

The following days were not much different from each other. During the day I suffered from idleness, had breakfast with Marinka, lunch with Tamara. In the evening Bud arrived, and we went to a restaurant, to the cinema, and walked along the embankment. And once we even went to the theater. In the morning, Marinka was sure to ask where we had been the day before, and she beamed like a copper teapot. She responded with a decisive refusal to the offer to join us. Presumably, she never lost hope that I would throw myself into Basargin’s arms and the threat to her happiness would finally disappear. He hopes in vain. But I didn’t want to upset her, and I kept such thoughts to myself.

A week has passed. The ball lay in the office like a silent reproach. The easiest way to give it to red-haired Rupert is to ask one of the boys about it. At least the same Alik. The simplest, but not the most reasonable, given their passion for fighting.

Out of idleness, I went with my dad to St. Petersburg. As a result, I showed up at the office only five days later. She entered, looked at the empty chair where Vladan usually sat, and began to roar. He’s been gone for two weeks, already two weeks, or maybe just two. Then my gaze darted to the ball, and I decided to deliver it immediately, thereby filling my life with meaning, so as not to completely fall apart. She took the ball, headed to the door and, already standing on the steps, thought: should I go by car? Or is it better to walk? My car catches your eye like an American flag in the Russian outback. Citizens of the Bottom live in the old fashioned way, driving around in style in poorly patched Zhiguli cars, while the Volga is still considered an indicator of prosperity.

Holding the ball under my arm, I walked towards the market, convincing myself that I was not risking anything at all. No one will cling to me in broad daylight, this is stupid. In the evening, when everyone has gone home, it’s a different matter. Encouraging myself in this way, I didn’t even notice how I had reached the Bottom. I crossed the invisible border, slightly surprised by the notoriety of these places: no differences from the usual landscape. The same houses as two blocks behind, the same shops, trading from stalls, a square with broken benches and overturned trash cans. There is about the same amount of trash on the sidewalks. The windows facing the roadway are just as dirty. Cats on windowsills, stray dogs, in general, nothing special.

– Do you know Rupa? Redhead like that? – I asked. The boy looked at the ball in my hands with interest, the girls nodded in unison. -Where can I find him?

The girl with short hair replied:

“I’ll show you,” and she went towards the rickety barns, saying to her friend: “I’ll be quick, you look after your brother.” Rupe's ball? – my guide began to ask, diving into a creepy-looking gateway. - So you crushed his ball?

- He was very worried. Father's gift. The boys tease him that his father is not real. So what? At least like this. I bought the ball. And almost everyone’s fathers are not real. Me too. Well, not the one who gave birth to us.

I didn’t know what to be more amazed at: the reasonableness of the arguments of a very young person or the wretchedness of the buildings we passed by. You can’t even call it a slum, real ruins. Rotten frames, crumbling plaster, patched and patched roofs and amenities in the yard. And this is practically in the center of the provincial capital, in the twenty-first century.

“We have water,” the girl said proudly, following my gaze.

- How far are we still? – I asked, having seen enough of the local sights.

- Nope, they’re in a vacant lot, very close.

A drunk man sat on a rickety porch, a fat woman furiously hit him on the head with a slipper, he tried to dodge, which infuriated her even more.

“She’s bad,” the girl commented.

The aunt suddenly turned around and yelled loudly:

-What are you staring at?

I thought it best to speed up my pace, automatically taking the girl’s hand.

And then, inopportunely, I remembered Tamara’s words.

“This is their life,” she thought in frustration. “And it’s certainly not for me to judge them.”

The girl pulled me along with her.

“She said she’s bad,” she said impatiently, and we moved on with a hurried step.

Another gateway, and we finally found ourselves in a vacant lot, quite large and, strangely, not cluttered. It was adapted for a football field. Instead of gates, there were pillars with a crossbar, two dozen boys were running around the improvised field, three older guys were sitting on overturned boxes, smoking, watching the game.

“There’s Rupa,” the girl pointed her finger at one of the players, however, I had already noticed him, which was no wonder: his red hair was striking even from a distance. - Aunt, will you buy me ice cream? – the girl asked, tugging my hand.

- Yes, sure.

“I have to go,” she said.

I reached into my wallet, took out a bill and handed it to her:

– Buy ice cream for yourself and your girlfriend and brother.

- Thank you. Will you find the way?

She was already running towards the gateway, without waiting for my answer, and I, holding the ball under my arm, watched the players.

Very soon those same older guys noticed me. One of them whistled loudly, the players unanimously turned in his direction, and the game went wrong. Taking advantage of this, I shouted:

- Rupa! – and waved her hand to him.

The redhead looked at me, turned his gaze to the trio of teenagers and hesitantly walked towards me. The others followed, including three smokers. I felt a little uneasy; it was likely that I would leave here without my mobile phone. The cat cried out for money in his wallet, the loss is small... The first rule of the street: if you want to survive, don’t show that you’re afraid.

The boys came very close.

“Hello,” I said, turning to Rupa and pretending that I simply didn’t notice the others. - I brought you the ball. Sorry it happened like this.

The boy looked hesitant.

“It’s his own fault,” said one of the teenagers, leaned over to Rupa and whispered something in his ear.

He took the ball and nodded his thanks. The same guy slapped him on the back of the head.

– Did you swallow your tongue out of happiness?

“Be careful with your hands,” I advised, the guy grinned, but remained silent.

And Red muttered:

- Thank you.

“Bye,” I said and walked to where the girl had disappeared a few minutes ago.

The boys started playing, and I got a guide, the same one who likes to give out slaps. He followed me, keeping his distance, but this did not reassure me at all.

“After all, he’s almost a child,” I thought. “I’ll manage somehow.”

Very soon it became clear: I had managed to get lost; perhaps, while thinking about what to expect from life, I had missed the right turn. The alley was definitely unfamiliar. Of the five houses, two are abandoned, and not a soul is around. Where to go, left, right? I turned right, but it soon became clear that there was a dead end. I had to go back. The boy stood leaning against the wall of the house, with his hands in his jeans pockets, whistling something, looking at the sky.

When I caught up with him, he called:

- Hey, your name is Polina?

- Yes. And you?

“Victor,” he extended his hand, and I shook it. - Although everyone calls them Kot, my last name is Kotov.

– I still like Victor more. “My fear disappeared as soon as the guy said my name. He knows me, or rather, he knows who I work for, so there’s no need to worry.

-Are you lost, or what?

- It seems so.

- It's clear. And I see you running around as if scalded, back and forth... Where do you want to go?

– To the “Product” on the corner of Semashko, I certainly won’t get lost there. Have you decided to accompany me?

- Of course, I decided. Don't hang around the gateways too much. Our area, you know...

“I thought it was safe during the day.”

– It’s normal for our own people in the evening, but it’s better not to risk it. There are a lot of idiots.

We reached the end of the alley when a woman appeared from the gateway. Long dark hair fell over her face, she was barefoot, wearing a chintz dress with small flowers. Holding onto the wall, she took several hesitant steps. I decided that she was drunk and was about to turn away, the pictures of local life were rather tiring, but then I noticed that her hands were covered in blood. Not only his hands, his bare feet are also bloody.

I stepped towards her, and Victor said:

– Don’t bother, she’s probably passed out.

The woman, hearing the voice, slowly turned around, and then began to sink to the ground, silently moving her lips. Her face was so pale, as if all the blood had been pumped out of her body, her eyes looked like black hollows. Under the left breast, the fabric of the dress was soaked with blood. Ignoring Victor’s words, I tried to support her and was able to soften the fall. The woman's body fell to the right, and she sighed, as if in relief, and closed her eyes.

Victor did not take his eyes off the bloody stain and frowned.

“Get off her,” he muttered. - You're messing around in blood.

“We need to call an ambulance,” I muttered, confusedly fumbling with my hands in search of my mobile phone. “She appears to be seriously injured.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. - Someone stabbed someone while drunk. Last year my mother stabbed my dad with a knife and it was bloody good. They thought he would die, but he came to his senses. Drinks more than before.

- Move, otherwise she will throw off her hooves.

He returned my mobile phone and squatted down next to me, looking sideways at the woman.

- Looks like he's breathing.

- Was your mother imprisoned? – I asked, hoping to distract myself from the terrible sight.

- Whose? – Victor didn’t understand.

- Yours. You said she stabbed her father...

- Ah... no, they didn’t imprison me. Dad lied that hooligans attacked near the store, like they didn’t share the bubble.

“Noble,” I marveled.

- Dad is not a fool, if his mother goes to jail, who will feed him? Certainly not me. Polina,” he suddenly became stern. - I think I will go. The doctors will call the cops, and then they will drive them into their graves with their questions, and I don’t favor the cops. And they, to be honest, me.

-Have you seen her before? – I asked anyway.

I looked at the woman and nodded in agreement. The hair is very dark and doesn't look like it's been dyed. Oriental type face, eye shape, nose shape. I tried to guess how old she was. No more than thirty-five. Most likely, she is much younger; deathly pallor and circles under her eyes, of course, do not make her look younger.

Victor straightened up and said a little guiltily:

- I went.

- Go. Thank you!

He waved his hand and disappeared into the gateway, and I thrust my bag under the woman’s head and timidly called:

- Can you hear me?

It was impossible to understand whether he heard or not. After thinking about it, I called the police, the officer on duty spoke to me as if I was deliberately making his life miserable, and when I heard the address, he completely cursed.

“Wait for the car,” he muttered nervously and passed out.

As soon as I put away my mobile phone, I saw my grandmother, she was slowly walking towards me with a shopping bag in her hands. In fifteen minutes this is the first passerby.

- Drunk, or what? - Having caught up with me, she asked, nodding at the woman, and then frowned, noticing a bloody stain under her chest. - Who is she like that?

- Don't know. “She came out of here,” I pointed my finger at the gateway.

“He’ll die,” the grandmother muttered, and I got angry.

- Why do you think so?

“Do you happen to know who she is?”

“And to me, dear, other people’s lives are not interesting, I don’t like to show myself and I don’t look at others.” There are a dime a dozen of all sorts here, you can’t remember them all.

However, she was in no hurry to leave, for which I was grateful to her. Soon another local resident appeared. The women were animatedly discussing the incident, and I again asked if they knew the victim. The answer was negative. Finally the ambulance arrived and a doctor, a man of about forty, got out of the car. Without saying a word, he leaned towards the woman lying on the asphalt, checked her pulse, and raised his eyelids. While he was doing all this, the police came. There were two men, one of them asked, turning to me:

- Was it you who called?

- Yes. The woman came out from here, barely able to stand on her feet. At first I thought she was drunk. Until I saw blood.

- Does anyone know her? – now the policeman was addressing the grandmothers. They silently shook their heads.

“She’s dead,” the doctor said, straightening up.

“How can that be…” I began, he silently shrugged.

The ambulance left, one of the policemen began making phone calls, the second asked questions. Although the grandmothers reported that they did not see or hear anything, since they arrived later, they were in no hurry to go about their business.

“Let’s get in the car,” the policeman suggested to me.

He settled into the driver's seat, putting the tablet on the steering wheel, and I sat next to him. My story took no more than five minutes; together with his questions, we did it in fifteen. During this time, a car arrived and the woman’s body was loaded into it. The policeman looked at me doubtfully and said:

– If there are any questions, they will call you. Now go home and have something to drink. At worst, valerian. But better than cognac.

“Definitely,” I nodded, not really appreciating someone else’s concern. – Maybe I should wait for the task force? Surely the investigator will want to talk to me?

“If he wants, he’ll call,” the policeman shrugged his shoulders with such an air that the investigation, and the very existence of the investigators, began to raise doubts.

That’s why, having left the car, I didn’t rush home, but joined the women. By that time, their number had increased to four people, and in the next twenty minutes, seven more passers-by, two men and five women of different ages, joined us. I regretted not taking a photograph of the dead woman. What if someone present recognized her?

Finally a car with two men in civilian clothes appeared. After listening to the brief story of the policeman who had previously talked with me, they began to look around without much interest, one disappeared into the gateway, and the second headed into the house opposite. The house looked dilapidated, but judging by the dirty gray curtains, people could have lived there. Realizing that nothing interesting was expected, the people began to disperse, and soon I was left alone.

When one of the investigators returned, the policeman nodded in my direction and said:

“The girl discovered the corpse, that is, it was not a corpse yet.”

The man came up and listened to my story, nodding from time to time.

- No, I work nearby. I was just passing by...

He thrust a business card into my hands.

– If you hear from someone local about the murder, call.

I nodded in agreement, said “goodbye” and went home. I felt bad at heart. Not just because I suddenly had to face death. There was a growing certainty that this tragedy would be lost among dozens of its own kind; to put it simply, it is unlikely that any of the investigators whom I happened to meet today would look for the killer.

I walked a couple of blocks when I heard a quiet voice behind me:

I turned around and found Vitka. Looking around, he quickly approached me.

- Well, what's there? – he asked for some reason in a whisper.

- The ambulance arrived late. The woman died.

“You didn’t tell the cops about me?”

- Why on earth? They didn’t look particularly curious,” I sighed.

“I see,” Vitka nodded. - One hundred percent “grouse”.

- Why do you think so?

– Think for yourself: the place there is rotten, all sorts of trash and crap live there, as mom likes to put it. Do the cops need to dig into all this? Who stabbed whom while drunk...

“She didn’t smell of alcohol, and she didn’t look like a homeless woman, you said it yourself.”

- The Queen of England too.

– Despite the fact that no one will be tense because of some incomprehensible woman.

- Actually, that's their job.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Vitka grimaced.

– After all, she has relatives. Must be. In general, the police will have to do their job.

- It depends on what kind of relatives you are. Take my father, for example, he is unlikely to soon notice that one of the members of our friendly family is gone. What if she was also lucky with her relatives?

“I have a favor to ask,” I said, after thinking a little. “There will probably be talk about the murder, and suddenly you’ll hear something interesting.” After all, this woman lived somewhere, someone knew her or at least saw her.

“I won’t help the cops,” Victor said, spitting at his feet, and I shook my head.

- Who's talking about cops?

– Do you think Vladan... So he left, didn’t he?

- Left. Not for long.

“I heard he charges exorbitant prices for work.”

“There is an exception to every rule,” I said, although Victor, of course, was right: the local inhabitants cannot afford Vladan’s services.

“I see,” Vitya nodded. “This is his land, and on your own land you shouldn’t allow just anyone to kill women.”

“Exactly,” I readily agreed, once again marveling at the peculiar logic of the inhabitants of the Pit. Bab, it turns out that you can cut, but not just anyone, but exclusively your own. Idiocy, by God.

Vitka shrugged:

- Okay, if I find out anything, I’ll let you know.

“Write down my number...” I hurried.

- No need, I know where to find you.

He walked me to the crossroads, where we parted. Twenty minutes later I entered the office and immediately felt like an orphan. It would be much wiser to go home, but I stubbornly stared out the window and drank large quantities of tea for lack of other things to do.

At about three o'clock I went to the cafe opposite, confident that rumors about the murder had already spread.

- Any news? – I asked cheerfully, having received a glass of milkshake.

“You don’t know,” Tamara snorted.

- About a woman who was stabbed to death. You found her. You and that weakling Vitka.

- Why is it so shabby?

- Because he plays football with little kids, he’s like a coach for them.

– Is the coach necessarily unscrupulous? – I got angry. Tamara, by the way, couldn’t hold back her emotions either.

- Go to the devil! – she barked, pointing her finger towards the front door.

– How did you find out about Vitka? – I sighed, not at all wanting to quarrel with the fat woman. “I mean, he was with me.” – Tamara just snorted contemptuously. – And what does the public think about the murder? – after a short pause I inquired.

- He doesn’t think anything.

- Nothing at all?

Tamara shrugged.

-What kind of woman is this?

“Apparently she got lost, no one knows her.” What kind of woman do you think?

- Hardly homeless. Do not like. And not a drug addict. Hands are clean.

“What’s a normal woman to do in a place like this?”

– There are different circumstances. I was looking for someone. I ended up there too.

– You end up everywhere. So I’ll tell Vladan where you’re going without him.

“I’m not a little girl, and he’s not my father.” And it’s not good to tell lies.

“Polina,” she said, looking from under her brows. “Don’t even think about looking for the killer yourself.” You're a detective, like I'm a ballerina, and you can accidentally break your neck. Vladan is unlikely to be pleased with this, although I don’t know why he has such a big sympathy for you.

“This is our secret,” I grimaced. Tamara’s words about my detective talents hurt, even though I knew she was right.

After finishing my cocktail, I returned to the office. I sat for a while on the banquette near the front door and went home. On the way, dad called, we decided to have dinner together, and soon after that Bud showed up.

- Hello Beautiful. What are you doing?

“I’m wondering what dress to wear for dinner.”

– Are you really trying for me? – he laughed.

- What more. For Dad.

- Are you having dinner with your father?

- Does that surprise you? I'm a good daughter, so today is your day off, do something nice.

– You need to understand it this way: is an evening in your company hard and exhausting work for me? Polina, you are a fool.

- Of course, who else?

- Three hours for dinner with your father is behind your back. And then we’ll head out of town. We will drink cognac from the bottle and look at the stars.

- Tempting. Maybe tomorrow?

- Tomorrow they promise rain.

– Who believes promises? OK, bye.

I threw my mobile aside, once again asking myself: what is the real reason for Bud’s more than loyal attitude towards me? Does he really like me? This thought occupied me all evening. I must have been too busy, dad noticed my thoughtfulness.

- Is something bothering you? – he asked, frowning.

- No, everything is fine. Dad, why don't you get married? – I blurted out. “After all, so many years have passed since my mother’s death...” His face darkened, and I backed down: “I’m sorry, dad.”

“You know, I don’t tolerate conversations on this topic, but it’s probably still worth talking.” It’s very difficult for me to imagine another woman in your mother’s place. This doesn't mean that I don't have women. I have been in a relationship with one of them for three years.

- Why did you then...

- Because she is not your mother. It is impossible to return what once was.

- Let's say. But who said you can't be happy with another person?

“It’s probably possible,” Dad sighed. “But I want exactly what I had.” Most likely, we will both be disappointed: I will be annoyed that the second wife is not an exact copy of the first, she is the very fact of such a comparison. By the way, I am quite happy with life, that is, I would be completely happy if your family life finally worked out.

– If you’re talking about Valera, then forget about it.

– Is this also taboo? We avoid talking about your divorce. More precisely, about its reason.

That’s what I definitely didn’t want to talk about... I shook my head, and then offered, smiling:

- Let's not ruin the evening.

“Okay,” the father nodded. “You are my daughter, but I actually don’t know much about you.” Such thoughts are scary.

“Dad...” I covered his hand with mine. - By God, I'm fine. As for Valera... there are no secrets, he’s just not at all the person I imagined before marriage.

– Is that Vladan?

- I hope you're not mistaken.

After this conversation, we both felt awkward and hurried to smooth it out in every possible way. My father offered to stay with him, and I stayed. After dinner, we walked for an hour and a half in the park, I hung on his arm, as I once did in childhood, and felt like a little girl for whom my beloved daddy would do the impossible. No wonder I forgot about Bud. I turned off my mobile phone in the restaurant (dad didn’t like it when we were interrupted), and I saw the missed calls only in the morning on the way to the office, when I turned on the phone. I thought about calling Alexey, but then mentally gave up: after all, I didn’t promise him anything.

That morning differed from the previous one in the appearance of Marinka; she looked at me before heading to the beauty salon, where she was the owner.

- Someone should meet the client...

- Yeah, there's a whole herd of them at the door. Listen, Polinka, my girls are on vacation, why don’t you work as an administrator, since you are so drawn to work.

At the first moment, I was even happy about the offer; in fact, it was much better than languishing here, as if in prison. But immediately a fear arose: Vladan, for good measure, might decide that he can do without me. I shook my head sternly, and Marinka, cursing through her teeth, went away.

I moved onto the sofa, grabbing a book, and managed to get to the seventy-fourth page when someone threw a pebble at the window. There was no damage from the throw, and the sound was barely audible, but I decided to see who was so brave? Or is it still awkward?

In general, I opened the window, turned my head in search of a suitable candidate and saw Victor in the gateway. He waved his hand at me, inviting me to join him, and I rushed across the road, almost forgetting to lock the door. By the time I appeared in the gateway, the guy had managed to move away from the exit to the street and was now propping up the wall, with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

He nodded, looking over my shoulder. The spy passions made me smile, but I was in no hurry to show it, I didn’t want to offend the guy.

- Did you find out anything?

- About this woman? Nope. It's as quiet as a tank. I asked around.

- But where did it come from?

“Of course,” Victor nodded. - So I think it’s nothing other than a hunchbacked woman.

- Which Hunchback? – I was wary.

– He has a factory right next to the market.

- Factory? – I asked doubtfully; I had passed by the market more than once and had not seen any factory.

- Well, they sew bags, all kinds of wallets.

– Why did you decide that the murdered woman worked at this factory?

“So I said, no one knows this woman, and Gorbaty has illegal women working for her.” They live in the factory, he lets them go once every hundred years according to his promise.

- Aren’t you making it up? This is just some kind of slavery.

Vitka chuckled contemptuously:

“If you want, you can take a look for yourself.”

- To the factory?

- Why are you so stupid? For the girls who work there. Suddenly one of them knows our deceased.

“But if illegal immigrants work there, outsiders are unlikely to be allowed in.”

- By itself. But you can get through.

I almost blurted out “where” again, but I came to my senses in time, saving the remnants of Vitka’s respect.

- When will we go?

- You can at least now. - Vitka peeled himself away from the wall and headed into the yard, I looked after him until he turned around, muttering: “Why are you standing there, they drowned,” and ran after him.

It would never have occurred to me that there was a factory in front of me. Creepy-looking structures, sheathed in iron and reminiscent of garages, which are built from what was at hand, most often just from rubbish. They stretched along the entire alley adjacent to the market, and, as it turned out, occupied an entire block.

Moving behind Vitka, I looked at this Chinese wall, which, it seemed, did not have a single gap. No entry, no exit. However, soon not only a door appeared, but also a gate, tightly closed. Confirming my guess about the purpose of these structures above the gate was a sign: “Garage cooperative “Luch”. And below on the white board: “Traveling only with passes.”

There were no cars, just like people. I glanced sideways at Vitka, he confidently walked on, ignoring the door, which could not boast of a sign, only a light bulb hanging on a long cord and currently completely useless. I was in no hurry to ask questions and continued to look at the miracle of architecture, trying to keep up with Vitka.

We turned into the next alley, even narrower and dirtier. Ahead I saw wooden boxes piled in a heap, and my guide headed towards them. Having built a kind of ladder out of boxes, he perched himself on the roof of the garage and waved his hand at me, inviting me to join. The shaky structure evoked fear, but I didn’t want to lose face, and I climbed after it, thinking that, most likely, this would be the end of the matter: I’d fall from a height of three meters straight into a garbage heap. However, nothing of the kind happened, Vitka gave me his hand in a gentlemanly manner, after which we happily galloped across the roofs, from garage to garage, like hares. Fortunately, this did not last long. But then it turned out that this was only the beginning of the journey and the tests had not even begun yet. Vitka lay down on the roof and began to crawl to the left, I followed his example, mentally saying goodbye to the blouse, which had cost me a lot of money.

We reached the end of the roof, I started looking around and at the first moment I didn’t see anything interesting. In the space between the garages there was a Gazelle, into which guys in overalls were loading boxes that, apparently, were not particularly heavy.

“We’ll wait until they leave,” Vitka said, making himself more comfortable.

The car drove away about fifteen minutes later, the guys in overalls returned to the garage, but left the gate open.

“Let’s go,” Vitka called and deftly jumped to the ground.

I looked down in horror, sure that I would certainly break my legs. However, Vitka came to the rescue here too, clasping his hands so that I could put my foot on them. I was so frightened by the prospect of breaking my neck that I didn’t think about the rest, but I should have. For example, that uninvited guests are unlikely to be welcome.

My feet touched the ground, Vitka ran towards the gate, and, of course, I did too. Here the first surprise awaited. The garages were located close to each other, the walls between them were demolished, resulting in a large space, something like a warehouse. I saw racks and boxes on them, similar to those that were loaded into a car.

- Where are we going? – I asked in a whisper, although that was not what interested me at all.

Vitka, apparently, understood this, because he replied:

– Don’t be afraid, when there are no cars, the movers drink tea in the office. They have a TV there, you can’t pull them out by their ears.

- How do you know?

- What, what... they rummaged through the bags. If you push your bag at the flea market near the market, you’ll be covered in chocolate. “Here he made a sign to be silent, I saw a door, it most likely led to that same office.

We moved on carefully. There were bales and some boxes around, and I also noticed the growing sound and did not immediately understand what it was, and only then realized: sewing machines. And after a couple of minutes, an eerie sight appeared before my eyes: two rows of tables stretching into the twilight, as if into infinity. There was not a single window, no daylight penetrated here, a lamp hung over each table, by the light of which the seamstress worked. The women sat with their heads bowed low, making it seem as if the seamstresses had no clothes at all, only their backs in blue work smocks.

- What do you say? – Vitka asked with a smug look.

- Horror. How many are there?

– You need to ask Gorbaty. Okay, let's drown, otherwise we'll run into someone else.

“But we wanted...” I began, and Vitka interrupted:

– Where can I talk to them then?

- Yes, here, next door. They live opposite.

We returned to the gate unnoticed by anyone. Curiosity led me to look into one of the boxes on the shelves. It had fittings. I just shook my head: probably all the famous brands were represented here. I wonder where they go from here? I glanced at my bag. I bought it in Milan, but I can only guess where it was made. A recent picture appeared before my eyes again: bent backs, the clatter of typewriters and the light of light bulbs hitting my eyes. What you see can forever deprive you of the pleasure of shopping.

Coming out of the workshop, Vitka confidently turned left, I noticed the iron grating that was there instead of a fence, the gate was closed, but not locked. According to my guide, this part of the garages, which have the letter “P” in plan, is a residential block. There was no doubt in his words: clothes were drying on stretched lines, there was a smell of food, and also bleach. A woman appeared from a nearby garage, looked at us with bewilderment, and hurried back before I could even say a word. Vitka followed her; the prospect of being caught, apparently, did not frighten him at all. Everything I saw led me to believe that our enterprise was much more dangerous than even one could imagine.

Vitka opened the door wide and called:

- Hey, does anyone speak Russian?

Looking into the garage, I saw three women sitting on blankets spread along the walls; on the left there was a table, a small gas stove, and a shelf with dishes above it. The women watched us in silence.

No reaction.

– How many people work here? – I asked the question again, and Vitka barked:

– Do you understand Russian?

“We don’t understand,” one of the women shook her head. – We don’t understand anything.

At that moment, a girl of about twenty, in a long black dress, appeared behind us. I flinched in surprise, and she started running. She ran to the gate and although she didn’t make a sound, I had no doubt: she was in a hurry for help. This means that in a couple of minutes we will have a hard time. Vitka must have had the same thoughts.

“Let’s get away,” he shouted, but he rushed in a completely different direction from where we came here.

There was no time to ask questions, I rushed after him, and soon we found ourselves in a narrow space between the garages. There was a grate ahead, blocking the passage. Vitka climbed onto it like a monkey, and I breathed a sigh of relief: it would be much easier to get out of here. But I was happy early. Vitka, out of excess excitement, didn’t really care about where to put his foot, and as a result he fell off. Didn't damage anything, but it took a while to get back up. I looked around in fear, expecting the angry men to appear; they actually appeared, but not where I thought.

Having overcome the obstacle in the form of a grate, I landed on the ground, and that’s when I saw two men armed with batons in the manner of police officers, one, without hesitation, moved it at Vitka’s legs, who, of course, tried to escape. Vitka fell to his knees, desperately screaming:

“You broke my leg, you bastard!”

The second guy rushed towards me, swung, I screamed desperately, but the man pulled his hand away, he must have seen that there was a girl in front of him.

“Damned thief,” he said angrily, grabbing me by the shoulder.

“We didn’t steal anything,” I said indignantly. - Call the police.

Neither the guards (who most likely were men) nor Vitka liked the mention of the police. Vitka didn’t even like my idea anymore.

“There will be police for you,” muttered a strong man with a crew cut who was holding him. - We went to the owner.

It turned out that the grate could be opened, which he did. It was locked. We returned to the territory of the garage cooperative, which in fact was not one, and walked to the workshop where we had recently visited, not meeting any of the inhabitants along the way, but I felt that we were being watched from behind the loosely closed garage doors.

We found ourselves near the door, my escort knocked and, without waiting for an answer, opened the door. In front of us was an office with cheap furniture, shelves along the walls and boxes that took up half the room. At the table sat a man of about fifty, blond, bearded, looking like an Old Believer from Soviet films. He was wearing a checkered button-down shirt, which only enhanced the resemblance.

“Here,” my guard began simply. – We hung out on the territory.

- Did they whistle anything? – asked the man at the table, looking closely at me.

The man nodded and turned to me:

“Everything is clear with the bastard, but aren’t you ashamed, dear?”

- You should be ashamed. Slave owner. In what conditions do your people work? And they live.

- By the way, they are grateful to me.

- Still would. You have "do-gooder" written all over your face. Let go of your hand,” I muttered to the guard. The man glanced sideways at the owner, he nodded, and he let go of his hand. “I didn’t do anything wrong...” I continued.

– Another question is what kind of territory this is. The gate says “garage cooperative.” I wonder which of us would be in more trouble if you actually called the police?

“The cops are definitely in trouble,” muttered Vitka, who had been silent until then; it wouldn’t be bad for him to continue to be silent.

“The guy knows life,” nodded the owner of the office; by the way, I didn’t notice any hump on him. -What brings you here? - he asked.

- It's an important matter. Let the guards come out.

The hunchback, who was not a hunchback, nodded again, and the men left with slight offense on their faces. Vitka, without waiting for an invitation, sat down on a chair and stuck out his chest, he was so upset. I also sat down, closer to the owner.

“I’m listening to you,” he sighed.

“You probably know that yesterday a woman was found not far from here, she was covered in blood and died before the ambulance arrived.” News travels fast in this area, but there is still no news of this woman. Let's assume she's here illegally...

– And he works in my factory? – Hunchback asked, turning the pencil in his hands. “She could just as easily work somewhere else or not work anywhere at all.” Do you know how many illegal immigrants live in Yama? Nobody knows the exact number. Your woman could have come to visit or simply come here to see someone... What does this have to do with me?

Gorbaty spoke confidently, he was not afraid of the police, because Vitka was right, such a factory simply could not function without a reliable “roof”. But I still didn’t want to agree that I had made a fool by coming here, especially after I felt Hunchback’s obvious concern as soon as the topic of the murdered woman came up.

“I just wanted to talk to the workers of your factory,” I smiled, offering peace. – What if someone was missing today?

- Mine are all in place. And this woman was most likely stabbed with a knife in a drunken quarrel. What interest do you have in delving into such crap?

- And this is my business.

The hunchback grinned:

- You are, of course, in a special position here, but the one to whom you owe this is unlikely to be delighted when he finds out...

– Who do you mean now? – I interrupted, and he nodded.

Vitka, frowning, headed towards the door, I followed him. The guards waited nearby and escorted us to the gate.

– Did the girl work here? – I couldn’t resist asking.

- What a Girl? – one chuckled, the second frowned.

“You know very well who I’m talking about.”

- Bye, beauty.

The gates closed in front of my nose, Vitka hissed angrily:

“We can try again tomorrow,” my companion suddenly said.

- Crazy? Did you hear what he said? Do you want to go to jail?

- Yes, I didn’t care about his threats...

“By the way, where did he get the nickname Humpbacked? He doesn’t have any hump,” I decided to satisfy my curiosity.

“It’s not a nickname,” Vitka answered. - And the last name.

- Well, well... it can be worse. Thank you for your help. And do yourself a favor and stop stealing, it won't end well.

We said goodbye. I returned to the office and began to look for the business card, which I had managed to put somewhere unknown, confident that it was unlikely to be needed. Bud caught me doing this.

“Hello,” he said, settling into a chair. - What are searching for?

- A business card from an acquaintance.

– No one to have coffee with?

Bud, as usual, smiled mockingly, but was clearly preoccupied with something.

- Actually, he's a cop.

- God, what a strange acquaintance for a decent girl.

“I was passing by,” he answered.

- That's how it is. For some reason you drive by often.

“I really wanted to find out who you traded me for yesterday,” he laughed.

“I told you I’m having dinner with dad.”

“And I didn’t spend the night at home.” Mobile is disconnected...

“Tell me,” I asked defiantly, placing my hand on my side, “what do you care about this?”

“I could lie that I’m worried about my friend, but it sounds completely stupid.”

– Yeah, especially since my friend doesn’t care about my loyalty.

“Who knows,” Bud sighed. - Tell me better, why did you need a cop?

“I was hoping to find out something.”

“Does this have anything to do with the corpse you came across while hanging out God knows where?”

It didn't surprise Bud at all that he knew about this. Despite the fact that he had not lived here for a long time and had no business, he learned the news at cosmic speed. However, not everything is clear about the cases either. Bad is Bad, a bird of the day and a night in one person, in the sense that there are things that happen during the day, and there are those that happen at night, and people like me are not supposed to know about them. That's why I was a little wary. There was a feeling that this was precisely the reason Bud showed up. “Does murder really have anything to do with him?” – within a minute I thought with fear.

– Let’s say it’s connected, so what? – I answered.

He winced.

- Polinka, Vladan will really not like it that you stick your pretty little nose into God knows where without his knowledge, exposing yourself to danger... I don’t like it even more.

- Why? – I frowned. He rolled his eyes. “Answer, please...” He was in no hurry to answer, and I continued: “What kind of danger could threaten me?”

“I doubt that there is a universal secret hidden behind this murder.” On the contrary, I’m sure everything is banal to the point of yawning. But the fact that you, in the company of punks, will wander around the dark gateways will certainly raise my blood pressure during the day and deprive me of peace at night.

“That’s it,” I said with some disappointment. - Listen, do you have any friends in the police?

He sighed heavily and after a short pause asked:

– Do you have someone specific in mind?

- Alyosha, I just want to know who she is...

– I don’t even ask why. “Alyosha” sounded like angelic music. “He laughed, took out his mobile phone and started calling someone.

From the conversation I took away the following: his interlocutor’s name is Pavel, and Bud intends to meet him in an hour in a cafe on Marata Street. The Investigative Committee is located on this very street.

“Let’s go,” Bud nodded to me. “We’ll have lunch together at the same time.”

Pavel arrived fifteen minutes late, greeted him hastily and immediately asked:

– Where does such interest in this migrant worker come from? You surprised me.

He turned out to be a very young man, about twenty-five years old, no more. With a fashionable haircut, a well-tailored suit and a gold watch on his wrist. By the way, I drove up in a brand new Mercedes. “Golden boy,” I immediately dubbed him. Dad is probably a general. However, it’s not for me to blame a person for this. Thanks to my father, I also live on everything ready-made, and I don’t have to earn a place in the sun using my elbows. Curious what connects them with Bud?

Alexey, meanwhile, nodded in my direction with a wry grin:

– Polina Leonidovna is interested, and I am ready to fulfill any of her whims.

Pavel unsuccessfully tried to cope with amazement; it is not known what struck him more: the existence of a girl whose whims Bud was ready to fulfill, or the fact that I was interested in murder. I decided: the truth is somewhere in the middle.

– May I know your last name? – Pavel asked very politely, addressing me.

“Zabelina,” I answered, wondering why I still bear the name of my ex-husband. Natural laziness must have played an important role: I didn’t want to fuss with changing documents.

Pavel was clearly interested, I thought he remembered the name in the protocol, but it turned out to be wrong.

– Your dad is Leonid Sergeevich Nemtsov?

I nodded silently. He turned his gaze to Alexei and nodded too. Bud had his sights set on a bride with a dowry; these were probably the thoughts that were running through his head.

-Are you kidding me?

“Polina,” he called. “I understand: running into an aunt in a gateway who suddenly became a corpse before your eyes is unpleasant.” And that's putting it mildly. For a girl like you, this can come as a shock. But... can you tell me why I get the impression that you are simply suffering from idleness?

“She’s not an aunt at all,” I muttered. Bud’s words caused unpleasant concern, which is probably why I continued, either trying to convince him or myself: “In one book, I came across a phrase from the main character, a detective: “We speak through the mouths of the dead.” While working on a murder case, the investigator learns what the murdered person is no longer able to tell. Someone should definitely do this for him. Understand?

I thought Bud would make fun of me, but he looked extremely serious.

“Let's give them a chance to do their job,” he finally said. - There are smart guys there. And let’s wait for Serb, I wanted to say Vladan...

I never drank the tea. I looked out the window for a while, mentally returned to the recent meeting and decided to visit the very wasteland that Pavel was talking about. Getting ready took a couple of minutes, and soon I was already in the alley, as deserted as the day before. With some apprehension I entered the gateway. It looked like it was being used as a toilet; the smell was almost unbearable. There are doors on the left and right, judging by the numbers three and seven, there are two apartments here. From the side of the alley, the house looked uninhabited, but I checked the doors just in case. Both are either locked or completely boarded up.

The wasteland began immediately from the gateway. Once upon a time there were houses with garages or sheds, of which only the foundation and rotten boards in the tall grass remained. Walking here is dangerous, you can easily break your legs. I looked into the windows of the first floor from the vacant lot. There are remains of glass in the frames. They took out everything they could long ago, and what they couldn’t, they destroyed.

I walked cautiously through the vacant lot, after looking around. After half an hour, it became clear: from here you can get to three streets at once, not counting the alley where I started my journey. It turns out that the woman could have appeared from anywhere. The question is, why did she choose to run through a vacant lot, and not along the street, where they would most likely come to her aid?

The answer is obvious: she was hiding. But then everything is not so simple. In the vacant lot, according to Pavel, there is her blood. Was the woman chased, overtaken and stabbed? With the last of her strength she made it to the gateway? Or did it all happen in one of the houses adjacent to the vacant lot? She decided to hide, but, realizing that she couldn’t cope without medical help, she went out into the alley.

Due to the proximity of that same factory, the first seemed more likely. If a woman was heading there, she could take a short road through the wasteland, although, of course, there is no road, and it’s not safe to walk here, not only because of the local punks. Then again, women usually carry a handbag...

Let’s assume that they were just hunting for the bag, although the robbers hardly need the bag itself; they took the wallet and mobile phone, and immediately threw the rest away. And the robbers would not have struck twice with a knife, especially considering the fact that the woman did not resist. If it were otherwise, Vitka and I would have heard screams.

Just in case, I looked into the courtyards of all six houses that were located in close proximity to the vacant lot. Pavel is right: he’s a natural homeless person. In the courtyard of one house, laundry was hung on a line, the door to the entrance was open, and dampness and the now familiar smell of the toilet came out. I was careful not to go into the house. Then I saw two women, they were chatting about something, laughing. The older one is holding a shopping bag. Noticing me, both disappeared into the house; apparently, only the second floor was inhabited.

I sighed sadly, hoping that I would be able to talk to women, although I knew that they didn’t like strangers here. The shabby walls hide too many secrets. I looked around, as if expecting insight. If the dead woman did live here, where is the easiest way to get out to the vacant lot without attracting attention?

A two-story residential building is separated from a vacant lot by a ravine, quite deep, and it is unlikely that a mortally wounded person would be able to overcome it. Behind the next house, dilapidated barns and a garbage dump are also a serious obstacle.

Of interest was a rickety little house that looked uninhabited, but the roof had been repaired not long ago, and a patch of roofing felt was noticeable. I walked towards him. There are bars on the windows and the curtains are drawn. Curtains, of course, are not an indicator that someone lives here. Let’s say that when moving, they might have simply been too lazy to remove them. It must be said that the city authorities have been trying to resettle people from these shacks for decades. But if the house was not demolished on the same day (which, you see, is quite problematic), literally within a couple of days new residents appeared in it, and this whole “crow settlement” continued to exist. Houses were cut off from power grids, but electricity was immediately provided on their own; other benefits of civilization are rare here, which is why there was nothing to turn off.

I went to the front door and tried to open it. The task is not easy. The handle had recently been torn off, as evidenced by nail holes. The door opened to the street, therefore, this circumstance did not mean at all that the house was uninhabited; the residents could happily make do with a key: you insert it into the lock and use it as a handle to open the door.

In the absence of a bell, I began to knock, after which I listened to the silence for a while and returned to the windows. From the ground to the windowsill is only about fifty centimeters. Having looked around furtively, I perched myself on the windowsill and looked inside, holding my hand with my visor to see better. But, to my disappointment, it is impossible to see anything through the curtains.

Cursing with frustration, I entered the courtyard of the house. There was a door here too, slightly open, which gave me a surge of enthusiasm. However, the joy turned out to be premature; there was another door in the narrow corridor. Boarded up. I could clearly see the heads of the new nails. Although for those who decide to settle here, nails are not such an insurmountable obstacle.

Looking around at the brick walls with a network of cracks, I shook my head: in what desperate situation must a person be in order to decide to settle in this place?

Continuing to look around, I headed towards the vacant lot. The gateway from which the dying woman emerged is directly opposite. Is this just a coincidence? Very close to home. If she was running away from an enraged roommate, it would be more logical to seek protection from neighbors. They would have hidden it and called the police. It would be logical in any other place, but not here. If the house has been like this for a long time, all my guesses are not worth a damn.

What if he was stabbed to death after the woman’s death? It's tempting to let this happen. But the neighbors should know about this, and the police questioned them... They don’t like the police here...

Positively, this house bothered me. Lost in thought, I did not immediately notice that I was no longer alone in the yard. Two men stood a few meters away, blocking my exit to the street. It was absolutely clear that this meeting did not bode well; the faces of the men were hidden by scarves tied in the manner of surgical masks; on the right hand of the one on the right, there was brass knuckles. Without a doubt, they showed it to me for educational purposes.

I backed away in fear, and the men began to approach. My first thought: to run, but I will have to run through a wasteland, and the further I am from residential buildings, the less chance I have of salvation. Maybe these are the same killers? This assumption made me feel completely uneasy.

“Hey,” I began hesitantly, still backing away. – There is some money and a mobile phone in the bag. Take it and leave.

I was not honored with an answer, but one of these types moved to the right, with the clear intention of getting around me, cutting off the path to retreat.

To my greatest chagrin, my words made no impression; the chagrin was mixed with bewilderment: had they really not heard of Marić? Maybe "guest performers"? I categorically refused to admit the idea that they knew Serb, but decided not to give a damn about my words. What kind of scumbags you have to be... or really hate Vladan, and then take it out on me. Apparently this is true.

“Assholes,” I muttered, gripping my bag tighter for lack of any other weapon.

The fear suddenly receded, that is, of course, I was desperately afraid, but the anger at this couple was much stronger. I knew that the fight would be extremely short, but I was going to fight back to the best of my ability.

In fact, I must have believed in a miracle, and it was not long in coming.

– Who are you, funny guys with brass knuckles? – I heard a familiar voice and giggled nervously.

Bud, who appeared out of nowhere, stood leaning his shoulder against the wall of the house. The pose was relaxed, there was a grin on his face, but he kept his hand under the hem of his jacket. Very expressive. Both guys turned sharply and quite predictably began to run across the wasteland, one of them pushed me, and I fell screaming into the grass.

I screamed rather out of surprise. Bud rushed towards me; the couple in scarves instead of masks ceased to interest him, which allowed them to safely disappear from our eyes.

– Who did you promise, Badu?

- Certainly. In gratitude for the rescue.

“Well, sit down,” Marinka said sternly, and I again sat down on the steps next to her. “You know very well, my dear, that getting away with you is my cherished dream.” And even though sometimes I want to strangle you until I grind my teeth, in fact I wish you well.

– Can you do it without any preamble? – I grimaced.

- Can. Bud is not soft and fluffy, as you must have assumed. You won't be able to play with the bunny and then forget him on the swings. Either be serious with him or not at all. Missed it?

Tatiana Polyakova

Pages: 270

Estimated reading time: 4 hours

Year of publication: 2016

Russian language

Started reading: 5065

Description:

I couldn’t find a place for myself because of the unexpected departure of Vladan Maric. Where did he disappear to? How long? Hopelessly in love, I agree to be content with little: just to be next to him, to help him conduct the investigation. But there were no clients yet, and Vladan, a “specialist in intractable problems,” did not take on every case... One day, in a deserted gateway, I accidentally came across a bleeding woman. When the ambulance and the police arrived, she was already dead. I felt bad at heart. The certainty was growing: this tragedy would be lost among dozens of similar ones. It is unlikely that the police will look for the killer: the area with the telling name Bottom was notorious. I decided to figure it out myself, thereby stirring up a hornet’s nest. Now I am in mortal danger. Fortunately, the great detective Vladan Maric returned and our breathtaking investigation began...