Love potion of the sorcerer talker. Love Potion of the Sorcerer Chatterer read online. Spellcaster's Love Potion

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Daria Arkadievna Dontsova

Tatyana Sergeeva. Diet Detective #18

To investigate a new case, the entire special team of Tanya Sergeeva, accompanied by the chief, went to the Urals. There, in the small town of Loskutovo, the mayor died. Is it really centuries-old - yes, yes, that's right! - the enmity of two local clans, the families of Sharovs and Brazhkins, has really reached the point of murder? It’s not like Chicago in the thirties, not like Italy from the time of Borgia ... And if the mayor was hit by a car, then several more people obviously died from poison. But the local sorcerers Kudryavtsevs, who prepared all sorts of different drugs, including very dangerous ones, have long been dead! Is their potion, which caused something like the flu, able to survive to this day? As soon as Tatyana dug deeper, it turned out this ...

Darya Dontsova

Spellcaster's Love Potion

"Never go to bed with a man who has more problems than you..."

Hearing this wonderful phrase, I looked up from studying the menu and looked at the two young women sitting at the next table.

– I love it! one of them exclaimed excitedly at that moment, a pretty blonde with shoulder-length hair and thick bangs. Smart, beautiful, attentive, creative! Yesterday he brought a bouquet, said: “Darling, I wanted to give you red roses, but then I thought: this is too banal, and you are an unusual girl. Therefore, in the morning I went to the forest and picked wild flowers. Agree, very nice and original, none of our friends would do that.

“Wild flowers are so called because they grow in the field and in the meadow, and not in the forest,” the second girl said instructively. And you are too trusting. I think your precious lover is a common liar. He simply did not bother and rush around the neighborhood, but bought a bouquet in the Wreath boutique, where they sell just such ones, supposedly hand-picked, and sell them. He is a liar.

- No! her interlocutor got angry. - You, Katya, are talking nasty things out of envy, because you understand: we will soon get married. And some people don't even have a boyfriend.

“Olya, you are crazy,” Ekaterina continued. - I repeat: never go to bed with a man who has more problems than you. And even more so you can not marry such a person. Your boyfriend has recently lost weight, there are bruises under his eyes, he doesn’t look the best. He's definitely in a lot of trouble. Everything is bad for Romeo now, and it will be even worse.

- Well, yes, he has grief in his family, - Olga said, - he is worried.

“Maybe so, or maybe not,” the friend did not give up, “it’s better to break off relations with him.

- Why? Olya asked with a challenge. - For whom I want, for that I will marry!

- Well, in vain. This will kill your parents and grandma. And no one will let him marry now, ”Katya hissed. - And if you spit on everyone and get married, then your ancestors will not give you a penny. And then your “bunny” will have even more problems in life. Where will you live? Only not in our city, you won't be able to go outside here.

“You are very mercantile, Katya,” Olya pouted, “you shouldn’t just think about money, there are other values.

- For example? Catherine asked.

- Love! Olga exclaimed. - Such that at first sight, forever! Like a lightning strike! Has this happened to you?

- Mmm ... - Katya drawled, biting off a polekleur at once. “Honestly, I don’t remember anything. But what are my years, maybe they will still warm with a bat from around the corner.

- But it happened to me! I met him, and the world turned upside down, - Olya chattered. - I wish you to experience such a ... er ... electric shock to the head.

“Merci, don’t,” Katya refused, smiling. - After all, the head, on which the shandarakhnulo current stops working like a clock.

- Do you think that your brain functions like a floor-standing Pavel Bure in your father's office? – squinted the beautiful blonde.

– Do you have any doubts? Katherine chuckled.

“I’m not talking about that, it’s just now it’s clear to me why the cuckoo sometimes flies out of you,” Olya sang maliciously.

There was silence at the next table.

- Have you chosen? asked the waitress who approached me.

“Two cabbage pies and tea,” I ordered. - What is the best drink?

“Of course, our brand name,” the girl said proudly. - It is a little more expensive than usual, but everyone likes it very much. Here in the menu it is written in detail.

"Tea" English afternoon tea in Loskutovo ". Harvested from the best plantations in India, processed according to a unique technology in Italy, packaged in sealed bags in France, this leaf came to us from Germany. We brew it with love according to the traditions of the Russian merchants of the glorious city of Loskutovo. Enjoy the aroma and taste of real English tea, which is preferred by royal courts. Have a great appetite, good mood, kindness, good luck and prosperity! The price for a kettle is eight euros.”

I closed the card and handed it back to the smiling waitress. Can anyone explain why the leaves from India, which visited a factory in Italy, then traveled along the route of the Apennine Peninsula - France - Germany - Russia and eventually ended up behind the Ural Mountains in the city of Loskutovo, are called "Real English tea"? Maybe somewhere in the bowels of the kitchen of a cozy cafe a British citizen is hiding? Is it he who, having learned all the traditions of the Loskutov merchants, pours boiling water over the tea leaves? And why is the price indicated in euros? We're not in Europe. By the way, given the name of the drink, it would be more logical to bill in pounds sterling.

I looked at my neighbors again. Olga, jumping up, blotted her blouse with a napkin, over which dark brown streaks spread.

- Ofigela? she screamed. - Now the blouse is ruined!

“All claims are against my cuckoo,” Katya answered calmly, standing up. - You said that she jumps out of me, and cuckoos always justify other people's expectations. The bird heard your words, once - and flew out.

- Hey people! She poured coffee on me. Seen? Olya squeaked plaintively, looking after the departing Katya.

Since there was no one in the cafe except me and the waitress, I said:

- When I turned around, the incident had already happened, I can not be a witness.

- Shut up! Olya stamped her foot. "Since you're so mean here, I won't pay the bill!"

Having spoken, the beauty grabbed her bag and fled.

- Well well! – I was indignant. And she turned to the waitress: - You need to contact the police.

The cafe worker reacted to the rarity calmly.

- Forget it.

"Would you just let the sass go away?" I was surprised. - Judging by the empty cups and the remains of cakes, the girls treated themselves to glory. The owner will deduct from your salary the cost of their order.

A guy leaned out of the office.

- Who was yelling here? Lena, what happened?

“Olya and Katya argued, don’t worry, Nikolai Sergeevich,” the waitress answered.

“Ahhh…” the young man drawled. - All right, clear the table as soon as possible.

Curiosity arose in me.

Do you know these visitors?

“No,” Elena snapped.

“We just called them by their first names,” I reminded them.

- It seemed to you.

- You said: "Olya and Katya argued," for some reason I continued the meaningless conversation.

Are you not a local? the waitress asked. - From Moscow? Akaete in the local way. My sister lives in the capital, in Chertanov, I fly to her several times a year, I know how they say: Maskva-ah? A ... Each city has its own habits, in Loskutovo we call all unfamiliar women Olya and Katya. The men will see a pretty girl and say: “Wow, Olga is coming!” Or Katka. Yes, here it is. Bring tea?

A bell rang, and my boss, Ivan Nikiforovich, entered the cafe.

- Where are you! I call, I call the number, you don't answer. We are expected at five in the evening. Did you manage to eat?

“Yes,” I lied and looked at the wall clock. “It is sixteen forty-five now; it looks like we will be late, because we will certainly get stuck in a traffic jam.

- Let's go on foot, the house is on the next street, - Ivan explained, - it's five minutes at a leisurely pace. And there are no traffic jams in the blessed Loskutovo. I'm waiting for you on the street, otherwise it's stuffy here.

The chief is gone. I got up.

“Sorry, work is calling.

“Do you want tea or cakes?” – said Lena.

“Next time,” I replied, “not today.”

As soon as we left the cafe, Ivan reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, held it in his hand, and then suddenly threw it into the trash can in the form of a red penguin. When I saw her, I was amazed:

- Well, you must! These stood in Moscow during my childhood. They just seemed to be in black and white. And now in the capital during the day with fire such an urn cannot be found. Look, you kind of threw away a full pack. Or it seemed to me?

“No, I didn’t,” the boss replied. - I am quitting smoking.

“Well done,” I agreed. - For a long time? You were still smoking yesterday.

“I’ve been without nicotine for an hour now,” the boss announced proudly. - I don’t understand why people say that it’s hard to give up an addiction? I don't experience any inconvenience.

"You're lucky," I smiled. - When Dimon's child was born, Korablev also refused cigarettes. I suffered for six months, I tried all the auxiliary means, I barely got used to it.

“I don’t want to offend anyone,” Ivan continued after a pause, “I know that Dima is your close friend and a brilliant specialist ...

- That's right, - I agreed, - Korablev is the best computer scientist in the world, even our Robert admits this.

“But his willpower is rather weak,” Tarasov finished the sentence, “that’s why he struggled with nicotine addiction for so long. And I'm made of iron.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Only, you understand, only sixty minutes without a cigarette is very little and ...

“You are mistaken,” Ivan interrupted me, “the first moments are the most difficult.

- Yah? Who told you this? I was surprised.

- And I downloaded the book - “Life without cigarettes. Simply and easily. The advice of a nicotinologist, ”the chief explained,“ I read in it.

- Nicotinologist? I repeated in amazement. “This is the first time I’ve heard of such a specialist.

“When the world began to fight tobacco smoking, nicotinologists appeared,” Ivan condescendingly explained, “these are psychologists who help people cope with nicotine addiction.

“Uh-huh…” I drawled.

“My mother advised me,” Tarasov clarified, “she has a lot of friends who quit smoking with the help of this book. There it is written in great detail and in simple language how to behave in order to forget about the addiction forever. Here, listen.

Ivan Nikiforovich pulled out an iPhone from his pocket, opened the desired page and began to read:

“Decided to quit smoking? You are well done. I am proud of you. Do not deviate from the intended path. I'm sure you can do it. You are a brave, strong-willed, strong personality, it is you who is the master of your body, and not a cigarette. Remember this. Say "No" and throw away the pack immediately. If you have a habit of stuffing cigarettes into all your pockets, as soon as you stumble upon them, throw "cancer sticks" in the trash. That is your task for the first sixty minutes."

- Cancer sticks? I muttered. - Original.

Ivan was going to hide the phone.

And then a quiet squeaking came from the boss's hand.

“The text message has arrived,” I said.

“No, the reminder worked,” Tarasov perked up. “So I lasted the first sixty minutes without a cigarette. What's next? "Dear friend! The next difficult period: two hours without nicotine. To survive it, you need to behave correctly. Tell your parents, friends, colleagues that you never intend to touch the "goat's feet" again. If you feel a strong urge to get nicotine poisoned, go outside and tell passers-by about your decision to quit smoking. You are a man of your word. You are ashamed to break it. The whole world knows that you are planning to quit tobacco. Will you give up? Can you sign your own lack of will? No no no! So, the most responsible one hundred and twenty minutes begin. Experience them with your head held high. You can. I believe in you. I admire you. You are iron. You are cast iron. You are flint!" The boss slipped the iPhone into his pocket. - No wonder this book is very popular, a very inspiring text. So smartly built! It should not be read in one fell swoop. You buy it, download it to your phone, and the program starts working - at the right time you get the next piece of information. I lasted an hour, began to feel like smoking - boom, a page with the right words appeared. At once the desire to smoke was gone. So, I already told you about my decision, my mother knows, it will be necessary to inform the whole team ... We are here. Here is the house of the Sharovs.

I looked at the three-story mansion with balconies.

- A majestic building. Yes, even with a memorial plaque.

Ivan Nikiforovich went closer to the wall and began to read aloud:

“The building was built by the architect Kutov on the order of Mikhail Ilyich Sharov, the owner of the Sharov's Dishes factory. Architectural monument. Protected by the Loskutov City Hall.

The door of the house opened, and a girl stepped out onto the porch.

- You are probably policemen from Moscow? she asked. - Your father is waiting for you. Please pass.

“Look upstairs,” Ivan whispered when we entered the oval hall.

I lifted my head and saw a domed ceiling decorated with a fresco, which would be more appropriately called "The Tea Party of the Gods in Loskutovo." The painting depicted the heroes of Greek myths on Mount Olympus, in principle a very common plot for masters of past centuries, but it was distinguished by one detail: Zeus, Hera, Apollo and other celestials of Hellas treated themselves to a drink from porcelain cups with a bright inscription "Sharov's Dishes", and the center of the table was adorned with a teapot bearing the same trademark.

“The house was finished by craftsmen from Italy,” the girl explained, noticing that I was examining the ceiling panel, “but Mikhail Ilyich, our great-great-grandfather, thought out the interior of the mansion himself, each room has its own name. Now we are in the main entrance hall of the "Gods of Olympus", through the corridor "Roman Holiday" we will get into the small living room "Spring of Florence". Vasily Petrovich, my father, carried out repairs, and the house became even more beautiful.

- It is gratifying when people honor the memory of their ancestors, - Ivan Nikiforovich remarked, - a person who does not remember kinship does not command respect.

“All the Sharovs think the same way,” the girl nodded, leading us into a square room furnished with upholstered furniture upholstered in soft green fabric with small flowers.

The tall man got up from his chair and walked towards us.

- Good afternoon, gentlemen, I'm glad that you found the time to fly. How did you get on? Are the rooms comfortable? I asked Oleg Lazarevich, the owner of the hotel, to accommodate my guests in the best possible way.

Ivan did not maintain small talk for a long time.

Thanks, the rooms are good. Allow me to introduce you to the head of the special brigade, Tatyana Sergeeva. Let's get down to business right away. We have only general information, we want to know the details.

The owner of the house pointed to the sofa.

- Please, have a seat. I think you understood that I am Vasily Petrovich Sharov. The beauty who met you, my eldest daughter Anna, she is in charge of the VIP client department at our factory, which is engaged in the production of sets, vases and other items to order.

“Everything that clients ask for,” Anya explained with a smile, “any theme, painting according to their desire, there is no limit to their imagination. Then she suggested, “Tea, coffee?”

- May I have a cappuccino? I asked.

“Of course, with great pleasure,” the owner’s daughter nodded. And looked at my boss. - And you?

“Any tea you like,” he replied.

- Oh no! Vassily Petrovich suddenly protested. - I do not advise you to focus on her addictions. She drinks exclusively Lapshang Sousong, and especially sensitive people, catching its aroma, faint. A drink with the smell and taste of spoiled fish, frankly, for an amateur. Anya, do me a favor, don't scare the Muscovites, treat yourself to an espresso in their presence.

“Well, not everything is so bad,” the girl said cheerfully, “it’s just that dad has a heightened sense of smell, he was even offered to become a “nose”, that is, a person who creates perfumes.

"So what's the problem?" - Ivan asked in a businesslike way, looking after Anna, who moved towards the exit from the living room.

Vasily Petrovich wiped the smile of a society lion from his face.

- I'll try to tell you sequentially.

I quietly turned on a tiny but very sensitive voice recorder in my pocket.

“In order for you to understand the essence of the matter, you will have to start from afar,” the owner of the house warned.

“We're in no hurry,” I said, “the more information the better.

“Excellent,” Sharov was delighted and started a story.

…Since ancient times, the inhabitants of Loskutovo have made a living by producing dishes. The village very successfully stood near a large ravine, where there was a lot of clay. Local people sculpted unpretentious crooked bowls, burned them in stoves and sold them at the market. The Loskutovites could not engage in ordinary peasant labor, that is, grow crops or vegetables and fruits - nothing good grew on clay soil. Although, to be honest, the situation was not very good with the dishes either, they were ugly and did not live long. Pots-jugs-plates quickly cracked, leaked, people took them only because the left-handed craftsmen agreed to an exchange: they gave a bunch of mugs-bowls for a small amount of flour or a bag of swede.

Everything changed in the thirteenth century, when a certain Martha, a widow with three children, sheltered a soldier in her house. Baba allowed the serviceman to spend the night out of pity, he looked painfully unhappy: long, thin, round-shouldered. A week later, the local gossips began to interrogate Martha, how long the soldier would stay in Loskutovo, and she stunned her girlfriends with a statement that she and Yemelyan would go to the priest for a blessing for the wedding. The gossips decided that Martha had completely lost her mind, three eternally hungry, ragged boys weren’t enough for her, so she also decided to put someone on her neck. In short, everyone began to wait for the former serviceman to start beating his young woman.

A year later, all of Loskutovo, except for the family of Fyodor Brazhkin, worked for Emelyan. Sharov turned out to be not at all stupid, and, as it turned out, he had money. Out of nowhere, the soldier’s friends arrived in Loskutovo, and the local people didn’t have time to gasp, as they launched a frantic activity, organized an artel, began to make dishes that turned out to be much better than the one that the local peasants sculpted.

Centuries have passed. In the middle of the nineteenth century, almost every Russian family had products from Sharov, and a huge factory worked in Loskutovo. The village has long turned into a city, a good half of which belonged to the merchants Sharov. The descendants of Yemelyan and Martha were not only engaged in the production of porcelain, but also opened schools, built several churches, and trained workers. Many in Loskutovo prayed for the health of the owners, who gave the population a stable job with a good salary and, as they say now, a social package. However, in the sea of popular love for manufacturers, there was a liter of poison.

Those who hated the Sharovs also lived in Loskutovo, these were the descendants of Fyodor Brazhkin and their friends. Why did enmity arise between the Brazhkins and Sharovs? The legend says that Yemelyan, having married Marfa and opened a workshop, had a strong fight with Fedor, who, justifying his surname, brewed mash and sold it. It seems that Sharov demanded that his neighbor stop illegal trade, and when he did not obey, he “hit” him at the police, and Fyodor was sent to hard labor. Brazhkin's wife was left alone with a bunch of children, all of whom soon died of starvation.

A terrible story, the veracity of which is in doubt. Loskutovo in those patriarchal times was a place forgotten by God, a tiny village. Were the police there? Did gendarmes exist in Rus' in ancient times? And if all the children of a poor woman went to a better world, then how were the descendants of Brazhkin born? But that's what the legend is for, to be believed in, despite the lack of logic. The main thing: since then, the Sharovs and the Brazhkins have bared their teeth at each other. Both families, always the richest in the neighborhood, fought tirelessly and measured their wealth.

When, at the end of the nineteenth century, Mikhail Ilyich, great-grandfather of Vasily Petrovich, erected a luxurious mansion, Brazhkin instantly built a manor five kilometers from the town. Sharov developed the utensil business, and Pyotr Fedorovich traded products, had a license to sell alcohol, and the wagon trains that belonged to him traveled around Russia. Mikhail Ilyich sent his son to study in France, Brazhkin took his boys to Germany. At Christmas, the Sharovs distributed gifts to the poor - of course, it was dishes. The Brazhkins also did not forget about mercy and with the words: “What is the use of a bowl if it is empty?” they brought food to the poor, and among the dishes there was always a little white bottle. Therefore, the Sharovs accused the Brazhkins of soldering the people.

But still, people of the late nineteenth - early twentieth century were more loyal than their distant ancestors. Mikhail Ilyich and Pyotr Fedorovich did not start fisticuffs, they did not set fire to houses and shops, they did not put poison in each other's food. But this has happened before. From generation to generation, Loskutovites passed on stories about how, in God knows what times, one of the Sharovs hacked Brazhkin to death with an ax, for which the son of the deceased let the "red rooster" into the killer's factory. Was it true? There is no answer to this question. But the inhabitants of Loskutov believed the hunting tales. The city has long been divided into two camps: Sharovtsy and Brazhkintsy. People enthusiastically discussed how ancient opponents are building luxurious houses, trying to outdo each other in everything.

In 1917, the Bolshevik coup broke out, and the enmity flared up like a bright torch. The Sharovs were for the Whites, the Brazhkins were for the Reds, power changed several times in Loskutovo ... Many books have been written on this topic, there is no need to tell for a long time how the descendants of Emelyan and Fedor began to destroy each other. Then the thirty-seventh year happened, then the war broke out. Two of the Sharovs survived: the youngest son of Mikhail, Ilya, and Peter, the son of Ilya, who was born before the war, but due to his young age did not participate in it. There are also two Brazhkins left: Semyon, who was born in the same year as Petya, and his father, Konstantin Fedorovich, the same age as Ilya Mikhailovich. The rest of the Sharovs and Brazhkins perished. But even the death of all relatives did not reconcile Ilya and Constantine. Children appeared in families, and they were taught from early childhood: Sharovs and Brazhkins are enemies.

When perestroika began, the grandson of Ilya Mikhailovich, Vasily Petrovich Sharov, privatized the dying factory of dishes and managed to make it a successful enterprise in a short time. He bought the house of his ancestors, where the city council was located in the Soviet years, made repairs and now lives safely in the mansion with his three daughters, mother and beloved wife.

And the grandson of Konstantin Fedorovich, Igor Semenovich Brazhkin, continuing the traditions of his ancestors, opened a large food market, which he eventually converted into supermarkets. Brazhkin's stores have long ceased to be only signs of Loskutov, branches are located in many cities.

In a word, both Vasily Petrovich and Igor Semenovich achieved material success. In addition, they are both happy in family life.

Sharov is married to the quiet Svetlana Alekseevna. The marriage was concluded out of passionate love, although Alevtina Stepanovna, Vasily's mother, told him:

- Son, why do you need a girl without a family, without a tribe? She has no father, no mother, no relatives, she doesn’t understand where she came from to Loskutovo. Now you like Sveta, but what will happen in five years, when the passion subsides? What are you going to talk to her about? What kind of hostess will turn out of an awkward girl? Will she manage her money carefully? Look around, there are many worthy brides, equal to you in origin and upbringing. For example, Karolina Kruglova, the heiress of a wonderful wealthy family, is a beauty. And Sveta, forgive me for being frank, is inconspicuous, skinny, with a faded muzzle, she speaks barely audibly, she does not know how to smile. So what did you find in her?

But, despite the speeches of Alevtina Stepanovna, Vasily got married and has been living soul to soul with his wife for many years now. They have three daughters: Anya, Katya and Olya. All three girls are smart, beautiful, the pride of their parents.

Pyotr Ilyich Sharov, Vasily's father, unfortunately, died shortly after the birth of his son. But Ilya Mikhailovich, the grandfather, stepped over the centenary, replaced his father's grandson, raised him and died, having managed to see how Vasily Petrovich revived the production of dishes and became rich.

Alevtina Stepanovna, thank God, is alive and quite cheerful, she, despite her senile ailments, manages the household with a strong hand. Svetlana Alekseevna trained as an endocrinologist, is the head physician of the central Loskutovsky hospital ...

There was a soft tinkle, and Anya returned to the living room with a tray in her hands. She began to put cups, cookies, sweets on the table. The father calmly waited until the daughter left again, and continued the story. I again quietly turned on the recorder in my pocket and turned into a rumor.

... Not so long ago, Vasily Petrovich decided to become the mayor of Loskutov - a successful businessman decided to build a political career, improve life in his native city. It is clear that the employees of the association "Sharov's Dishes" gathered as a whole team to vote for the boss. Vasily is a good host, he is respected and loved. And the former mayor wanted to run for a second term and was not going to give up his positions without a fight. In fact, there were five candidates for the high post, but everyone was well aware that there were two real contenders, the rest would not get even one percent of the vote. And here is the most interesting detail for you: the name of the current mayor, who does not want to give up his chair to Sharov, Igor Semenovich Brazhkin.

The pre-election struggle flared up, during which the opponents at first behaved correctly, but then they used their claws and teeth. Vasily Petrovich reminded the mayor of his promise to build a new hospital building.

“And where is the building equipped with the latest medical equipment? Sharov asked. Where are the spacious rooms? Where is the state-of-the-art tomograph? Where did the money allocated for the construction of the clinic go? We see a mothballed pit.”

Igor Semenovich did not lose his head and announced the misfortune that happened at Sharov's factory.

“The general public did not hear anything about this, but it became known to me that the worker Sergei Vakhrushin died when one of the furnaces failed. Vasily Petrovich gagged the family of the deceased with money, and there was no fuss. But if a person is not able to put things in order at his own enterprise, will he be able to manage the urban economy?

And the exchange of "compliments" began, which became angrier and angrier. And then Brazhkin died in a banal accident ... - Vasily Petrovich fell silent, then asked:

Do you understand?

“Of course,” I nodded. - Now Loskutovo and the surrounding area are probably discussing what happened with might and main. Friends of Igor Semenovich openly say that Sharov decided to remove a competitor, they recall the history of the enmity between two families ...

“To the point,” the owner frowned.

“My son is incapable of mortal sin!” - a sonorous voice was heard from the corridor, and an elderly lady in a beautiful maroon dress entered the living room. - But Brazhkin is a criminal, this is a well-known fact.

Vasily Petrovich got up.

- Meet, gentlemen, Alevtina Stepanovna, my mother. Mom, these are experts from Moscow, Ivan Tarasov and Tatyana Sergeeva.

“Very nice,” the boss and I said in unison.

Are you husband and wife? Sharova inquired.

“No,” I answered quickly, “colleagues.

- Mom, they are from Moscow, - Vasily Petrovich repeated, - I called the best of the best to find the bastard who brought down Igor.

Alevtina Stepanovna raised her right eyebrow.

- A scoundrel? Well, well ... Lord, my son is too tolerant. The bastard in this situation is Bukhalkin.

“Brazhkin, mother,” the son corrected.

“What is on the forehead, what is on the forehead,” the parent angrily dismissed, “the essence does not change. The man who ran into Bukhalkin bought a bottle of vodka from his shop, drank it and got behind the wheel. God simply restored justice, you cannot deceive the Almighty. Who is to blame for Bukhalkin's death? He himself! He shouldn't have soldered the Russian people. And you want to punish the unfortunate who cleansed the world of black mold.

Vasily Petrovich listened in silence to the elderly lady. It was clear that he understood that it was useless to argue with his mother, she would remain with her own opinion.

- Grandma! a girl's voice called out from the hallway. Olya broke the blue decanter!

The hostess jumped up.

- Again, the outrageous messed up ... I'm going already!

Alevtina Stepanovna moved towards the door, but on the threshold she turned around and looked her son straight in the eyes.

- What a stupid thing you did. Remember our boy, the unfortunate Stepan, and think about who is to blame for his untimely death.

Sharov was silent for a minute. Ivan Nikiforovich coughed.

I also live with my mother. Unfortunately, she is sometimes inclined to jump to conclusions, and it is difficult for her to agree with someone else's opinion. Let's get back to Igor Semenovich. What happened to him? Of course, we can find out everything ourselves, but I would like to hear the story from you.

- The local police chief Fedor Mikhailovich Dubov will help you. He is our common friend with Garik, - the businessman sighed, - he always copied homework from him, then from me, Fedya and I sat at the same desk.

Was Brazhkin your classmate? I clarified.

“Now there are many educational institutions in Loskutovo, to choose from,” the interlocutor smiled. - Both private and municipal, there is even a gymnasium where Latin and ancient Greek are taught. But during our childhood with Garik, there was only one, as they say now, an elite school. I won’t be surprised if I say that the competition was organized not for children, but for parents. We with Igor and Fedya were enrolled in the first "B".

- And how did the children behave, whose ancestors from time immemorial were in irreconcilable enmity? Ivan asked.

“At first it was stupid,” admitted Vasily Petrovich. - Until the sixth grade, we fought for any reason, and then became friends. But, realizing that our parents would not like our friendship, they hid it. Not a single person knew that we often spent time together after school.

- Loskutovo began to grow after perestroika? I clarified.

- Yes, in the mid-nineties, new houses appeared very quickly - our factory provided jobs, and this attracted people from all over Russia, - Sharov nodded. - I am proud that I raised a city-forming enterprise from the ruins. Now it is one of the largest in Europe. Loskutovo has expanded, merged with neighboring Novokozhinsk, where there is a factory that makes belts for fans and much more from leather. Then the settlements of Matveevsk, Brunovo, Lapino joined the conglomerate, Filimonovo joined a couple of years ago, and the Loskutov districts began to be called by their names. If it goes on like this, we will have to think about building a subway. Well, this is still a joke, although there is a large share of truth in it.

“Now it’s not at all difficult for two boys who decided to hide their friendly relations,” I said, “after class, I got into a minibus, drove away from the city center, for example, to Matveevsk, and you won’t meet acquaintances there. But how did you manage to be friends? Really no one saw the offspring of the local Montagues and Capulets on joint walks and did not hit their parents?

"Never go to bed with a man who has more problems than you..."

Hearing this wonderful phrase, I looked up from studying the menu and looked at the two young women sitting at the next table.

- No! her interlocutor got angry. - You, Katya, are talking nasty things out of envy, because you understand: we will soon get married. And some people don't even have a boyfriend.

- Well, yes, he has grief in his family, - Olga said, - he is worried.

“Maybe so, or maybe not,” the friend did not give up, “it’s better to break off relations with him.

- Why? Olya asked with a challenge. - For whom I want, for that I will marry!

“You are very mercantile, Katya,” Olya pouted, “you shouldn’t just think about money, there are other values.

- For example? Catherine asked.

- Love! Olga exclaimed. - Such that at first sight, forever! Like a lightning strike! Has this happened to you?

- Mmm ... - Katya drawled, biting off a polekleur at once. “Honestly, I don’t remember anything. But what are my years, maybe they will still warm with a bat from around the corner.

- But it happened to me! I met him, and the world turned upside down, - Olya chattered. - I wish you to experience such a ... er ... electric shock to the head.

“Merci, don’t,” Katya refused, smiling. - After all, the head, on which the shandarakhnulo current stops working like a clock.

- Do you think that your brain functions like a floor-standing Pavel Bure in your father's office? – squinted the beautiful blonde.

– Do you have any doubts? Katherine chuckled.

“I’m not talking about that, it’s just now it’s clear to me why the cuckoo sometimes flies out of you,” Olya sang maliciously.

There was silence at the next table.

- Have you chosen? asked the waitress who approached me.

“Two cabbage pies and tea,” I ordered. - What is the best drink?

“Of course, our brand name,” the girl said proudly. - It is a little more expensive than usual, but everyone likes it very much. Here in the menu it is written in detail.

I looked at my neighbors again. Olga, jumping up, blotted her blouse with a napkin, over which dark brown streaks spread.

- Ofigela? she screamed. - Now the blouse is ruined!

- Hey people! She poured coffee on me. Seen? Olya squeaked plaintively, looking after the departing Katya.

Since there was no one in the cafe except me and the waitress, I said:

- When I turned around, the incident had already happened, I can not be a witness.

- Shut up! Olya stamped her foot. "Since you're so mean here, I won't pay the bill!"

Having spoken, the beauty grabbed her bag and fled.

- Well well! – I was indignant. And she turned to the waitress: - You need to contact the police.

The cafe worker reacted to the rarity calmly.

- Forget it.

A guy leaned out of the office.

- Who was yelling here? Lena, what happened?

“Olya and Katya argued, don’t worry, Nikolai Sergeevich,” the waitress answered.

“Ahhh…” the young man drawled. - All right, clear the table as soon as possible.

Curiosity arose in me.

Do you know these visitors?

“No,” Elena snapped.

“We just called them by their first names,” I reminded them.

- It seemed to you.

- You said: "Olya and Katya argued," for some reason I continued the meaningless conversation.

Are you not a local? the waitress asked. - From Moscow? Akaete in the local way. My sister lives in the capital, in Chertanov, I fly to her several times a year, I know how you say: Maskva-a-a ... Each city has its own habits, in Loskutovo we call all unfamiliar women Olya and Katya. The men will see a pretty girl and say: “Wow, Olga is coming!” Or Katka. Yes, here it is. Bring tea?

A bell rang, and my boss, Ivan Nikiforovich, entered the cafe.

- Where are you! I call, I call the number, you don't answer. We are expected at five in the evening. Did you manage to eat?

“Yes,” I lied and looked at the wall clock. “It is sixteen forty-five now; it looks like we will be late, because we will certainly get stuck in a traffic jam.

The chief is gone. I got up.

“Sorry, work is calling.

“Do you want tea or cakes?” – said Lena.

“Next time,” I replied, “not today.”

Daria Arkadievna Dontsova

Tatyana Sergeeva. Diet Detective #18

Darya Dontsova

Spellcaster's Love Potion

"Never go to bed with a man who has more problems than you..."

Hearing this wonderful phrase, I looked up from studying the menu and looked at the two young women sitting at the next table.

- No! her interlocutor got angry. - You, Katya, are talking nasty things out of envy, because you understand: we will soon get married. And some people don't even have a boyfriend.

- Well, yes, he has grief in his family, - Olga said, - he is worried.

“Maybe so, or maybe not,” the friend did not give up, “it’s better to break off relations with him.

- Why? Olya asked with a challenge. - For whom I want, for that I will marry!

“You are very mercantile, Katya,” Olya pouted, “you shouldn’t just think about money, there are other values.

- For example? Catherine asked.

- Love! Olga exclaimed. - Such that at first sight, forever! Like a lightning strike! Has this happened to you?

- Mmm ... - Katya drawled, biting off a polekleur at once. “Honestly, I don’t remember anything. But what are my years, maybe they will still warm with a bat from around the corner.

- But it happened to me! I met him, and the world turned upside down, - Olya chattered. - I wish you to experience such a ... er ... electric shock to the head.

“Merci, don’t,” Katya refused, smiling. - After all, the head, on which the shandarakhnulo current stops working like a clock.

- Do you think that your brain functions like a floor-standing Pavel Bure in your father's office? – squinted the beautiful blonde.

– Do you have any doubts? Katherine chuckled.

“I’m not talking about that, it’s just now it’s clear to me why the cuckoo sometimes flies out of you,” Olya sang maliciously.

There was silence at the next table.

- Have you chosen? asked the waitress who approached me.

“Two cabbage pies and tea,” I ordered. - What is the best drink?

“Of course, our brand name,” the girl said proudly. - It is a little more expensive than usual, but everyone likes it very much. Here in the menu it is written in detail.

I looked at my neighbors again. Olga, jumping up, blotted her blouse with a napkin, over which dark brown streaks spread.

- Ofigela? she screamed. - Now the blouse is ruined!

- Hey people! She poured coffee on me. Seen? Olya squeaked plaintively, looking after the departing Katya.

Since there was no one in the cafe except me and the waitress, I said:

- When I turned around, the incident had already happened, I can not be a witness.

- Shut up! Olya stamped her foot. "Since you're so mean here, I won't pay the bill!"

Having spoken, the beauty grabbed her bag and fled.

- Well well! – I was indignant. And she turned to the waitress: - You need to contact the police.

The cafe worker reacted to the rarity calmly.

- Forget it.

A guy leaned out of the office.

- Who was yelling here? Lena, what happened?

“Olya and Katya argued, don’t worry, Nikolai Sergeevich,” the waitress answered.

“Ahhh…” the young man drawled. - All right, clear the table as soon as possible.

Curiosity arose in me.

Do you know these visitors?

“No,” Elena snapped.

“We just called them by their first names,” I reminded them.

- It seemed to you.

- You said: "Olya and Katya argued," for some reason I continued the meaningless conversation.

A bell rang, and my boss, Ivan Nikiforovich, entered the cafe.

- Where are you! I call, I call the number, you don't answer. We are expected at five in the evening. Did you manage to eat?

“Yes,” I lied and looked at the wall clock. “It is sixteen forty-five now; it looks like we will be late, because we will certainly get stuck in a traffic jam.

The chief is gone. I got up.

“Sorry, work is calling.

“Do you want tea or cakes?” – said Lena.

“Next time,” I replied, “not today.”

Spellcaster's Love Potion

Darya Dontsova

"Never go to bed with a man who has more problems than you..."

Hearing this wonderful phrase, I looked up from studying the menu and looked at the two young women sitting at the next table.

I love it! - exclaimed excitedly at that moment one of them, a pretty blonde with shoulder-length hair and thick bangs. - Smart, beautiful, attentive, creative! Yesterday he brought a bouquet, said: “Darling, I wanted to give you red roses, but then I thought: this is too banal, and you are an unusual girl. Therefore, in the morning I went to the forest and picked wild flowers. Agree, very nice and original, none of our friends would do that.

Wildflowers are so called because they grow in the field and in the meadow, and not in the forest, - the second girl said instructively. - And you're too trusting. I think your precious lover is a common liar. He simply did not bother and rush around the neighborhood, but bought a bouquet in the Wreath boutique, where they sell just such ones, supposedly hand-picked, and sell them. He is a liar.

No! - her interlocutor got angry. - You, Katya, are talking nasty things out of envy, because you understand: we will get married soon. And some people don't even have a boyfriend.

Olya, you're crazy, - continued Ekaterina. - I repeat: never go to bed with a man who has more problems than you. And even more so you can not marry such a person. Your boyfriend has recently lost weight, there are bruises under his eyes, he doesn’t look the best. He's definitely in a lot of trouble. Everything is bad for Romeo now, and it will be even worse.

Well, yes, he has grief in his family, - Olga said, - he is worried.

Maybe so, or maybe not, - the friend did not give up, - it’s better to break off relations with him.

Why? - Olya asked with a challenge. - For whom I want, for that I will marry!

Well, in vain. This will kill your parents and grandma. And no one will allow him to marry now, - Katya hissed. - And if you spit on everyone and get married, then your ancestors will not give you a penny. And then your “bunny” will have even more problems in life. Where will you live? Only not in our city, you won't be able to go outside here.

You are very mercantile, Katya, - Olya pouted, - you should not only think about money, there are other values.

For example? Catherine asked.

Love! Olga exclaimed. - Such that at first sight, forever! Like a lightning strike! Has this happened to you?

Mmm ... - Katya drawled, biting off a polekleur at once. To be honest, I don't remember anything. But what are my years, maybe they will still warm with a bat from around the corner.

But it happened to me! I met him, and the light turned over, - Olya chattered. - I wish you to experience such a ... er ... electric shock to the head.

Mercy, don't, - Katya refused with a smile. - After all, the head, on which the shandarakhnulo current, ceases to work like a clock.

Do you think that your brain is functioning like floor-standing Pavel Bure in your father's office? - the beautiful blonde screwed up her eyes.

Do you have doubts? Katherine chuckled.

I'm not talking about that, it's just now it's clear to me why sometimes the cuckoo flies out of you, - Olya sang gloatingly.

There was silence at the next table.

Have you chosen? asked the waitress who came up to me.

Two pies with cabbage and tea, I ordered. - What is the best drink?

Of course, our signature one, - the girl proudly declared. - It is, however, a little more expensive than usual, but everyone really likes it. Here in the menu it is written in detail.

I looked at my neighbors again. Olga, jumping up, blotted her blouse with a napkin, over which dark brown streaks spread.

Ofigela? she screamed. - Now the blouse is ruined!

All claims are against my cuckoo, - Katya answered calmly, getting up. - You said that she jumps out of me, and cuckoos always justify other people's expectations. The bird heard your words, once - and flew out.

Hey people! She poured coffee on me. Seen? Olya squeaked plaintively, looking after the departing Katya.

Since there was no one in the cafe except me and the waitress, I said:

When I turned around, the incident had already happened, I can't be a witness.

Shut up! Olya stamped her foot. "Since you're so mean here, I won't pay the bill!"

Having spoken, the beauty grabbed her bag and fled.

Well well! - I was indignant. And she turned to the waitress: - You need to go to the police.

The cafe worker reacted to the rarity calmly.

Forget it.

Will you let the sass just get away? - I was surprised. - Judging by the empty cups and the remains of cakes, the girls treated themselves to fame. The owner will deduct from your salary the cost of their order.

A guy leaned out of the office.

Who was screaming here? Lena, what happened?

Olya and Katya argued, don't worry, Nikolai Sergeevich, - the waitress answered.

A-ah-ah ... - the young man drawled. - All right, clear the table as soon as possible.

Curiosity arose in me.

Do you know these visitors?

No, Elena said.

Just called them by their first names, I reminded them.

It seemed to you.

You said: “Olya and Katya argued,” for some reason I continued the meaningless conversation.

Spellcaster's Love Potion

Darya Dontsova

Chapter 1

"Never go to bed with a man who has more problems than you..."

Hearing this wonderful phrase, I looked up from studying the menu and looked at the two young women sitting at the next table.

No! - her interlocutor got angry. - You, Katya, are talking nasty things out of envy, because you understand: we will get married soon. And some people don't even have a boyfriend.

Well, yes, he has grief in his family, - Olga said, - he is worried.

Maybe so, or maybe not, - the friend did not give up, - it’s better to break off relations with him.

Why? - Olya asked with a challenge. - For whom I want, for that I will marry!

You are very mercantile, Katya, - Olya pouted, - you should not only think about money, there are other values.

For example? Catherine asked.

Love! Olga exclaimed. - Such that at first sight, forever! Like a lightning strike! Has this happened to you?

Mmm ... - Katya drawled, biting off a polekleur at once. To be honest, I don't remember anything. But what are my years, maybe they will still warm with a bat from around the corner.

But it happened to me! I met him, and the light turned over, - Olya chattered. - I wish you to experience such a ... er ... electric shock to the head.

Mercy, don't, - Katya refused with a smile. - After all, the head, on which the shandarakhnulo current, ceases to work like a clock.

Do you think that your brain is functioning like floor-standing Pavel Bure in your father's office? - the beautiful blonde screwed up her eyes.

Do you have doubts? Katherine chuckled.

I'm not talking about that, it's just now it's clear to me why sometimes the cuckoo flies out of you, - Olya sang gloatingly.

There was silence at the next table.

Have you chosen? asked the waitress who came up to me.

Two pies with cabbage and tea, I ordered. - What is the best drink?

Of course, our signature one, - the girl proudly declared. - It is, however, a little more expensive than usual, but everyone really likes it. Here in the menu it is written in detail.