1
Monday and Tuesday. Two days.
If the killer were an ordinary moron, that would have been enough for Force to prepare all the documents by today and send the case to court. Neither the judge nor the jury would have been one bit concerned as to the question of how the body was returned. It surfaced and came, so what? Plus one more solved case for the statistics.
But since the suspect turned out to be the son of the head of the Central Police Department, such an assumed outcome would be out of the question. To continue and adequately solve the case, the investigators needed the authorization to investigate and drag the pond (which, of course, Chief did not give) or permission to study the text messages from the pagers of Chief and Familiar (of course, they would never get those either), or finally, they could hope on the sudden appearance of a witness to the murder (something that generally only happens in detective novels). Regardless, discarding the third option was not something that could be totally done: after all, anything can happen in life.
2
On Wednesday after work, Cord called a taxi and went to the automobile service garage. In the morning, he had left his Swan there for some long-needed maintenance. Well, and a wash simultaneously. The last time the car's interior had seen a vacuum cleaner or cleaning liquids was about five years ago, if not longer.
Even the auto service employees gave Cord a condemning look. Collectors would doubtless have killed him for the cruel and unusual punishment of a rare car. Not only was it a Swan, but it was also a limited edition. Cord had inherited the car from his father, who had received it from the previous Tsar as a reward for his scientific achievements. Only one hundred copies of the award Swans had been produced. They differed from the production ones: they had an even more luxurious interior and an even more powerful (and gluttonous) engine.
Despite everything, Cord did not like the car: it was too pompous and impractical. Moreover, he did not like to drive in principle and did not see the point in it: buses and taxis were enough for him. However, today Cord decided to take the "bird" for a spin. After all, he was going on a date with a princess, which meant that the car must be a truly royal one.
***
It wasn't the car that delighted Dia more than anything else.
Before the date, Cord had driven to a flower shop and had bought some beautiful potted orchids. Out of principle, he did not buy an ordinary bouquet as he considered them to be an irrational waste of funds: sure, they would look beautiful for a day or two, but then they would turn into an unesthetic broom. While potted flowers would bloom again and again.
"Wow!" exclaimed the girl, twirling the pot in her hands. "I have never been given such a gift!"
Today Dia wore a black evening dress, which fit her beautifully. The girl looked so elegant and sophisticated that Cord, dressed in what had been, in his opinion, a respectable suit, felt like a country bumpkin.
"Well. Where are we going?" he asked.
"Who's the gentleman here, huh?"
Cord turned his head.
"No one like that here, my lady." Cord bowed playfully. "Maybe to the movies?"
"Let's go! What's playing right now?"
"I don't know. We'll see when we get there."
***
The cinema was overcrowded, but they managed to get tickets to a strange melodrama. It was a story about a vampire who met terminally ill single girls, made them happy in their last days, and then killed them with a bite to the neck. Unfortunately for the vampire, one especially zealous father recognized the essence of the man and launched a hunt for him. The vampire faced a dilemma: to leave the city or fight for his love. He naturally chose the second option.
At the climax, the vampire sacrificed his immortality to save the life of the girl whom he truly loved. He bit her on the neck, but now not to drink her blood and kill her, but to transfer to her his life force and immortality.
In the last scene, the girl, recovered from the fatal illness, laid flowers on the unmarked grave in which the vampire was buried. At that moment, the women sitting in the hall began to furtively wipe away their tears with handkerchiefs. Even Cord, who was not prone to sentimentality, had to stoically restrain tears.
During the credits, a few people started applauding, and this soon turned into a full-standing ovation. For both Cord and Dia, this was the first time they had seen such a thing, but they also clapped along with everyone else. Then they headed towards the exit of the hall.
"He was so awesome!" exclaimed Dia, flushed with an overabundance of emotions. "A real man! Sacrificed everything for love!"
"It's just not clear how he passed his life to her through the bite. He had just drunk blood before, didn't he? And then, for no apparent reason, he is performing miracles!"
"Don't be such a fault-finder!" Dia slapped him lightly on the arm. "C'mon, admit it! It was an excellent film! No?"
"Well, I liked it."
"He liked it!" Dia clasped her hands. "He sat there, worried until the end, and thinks I didn't notice!"
***
The city at night was attractive in its illumination, so they decided to go for a little ride. The streets were not deserted: life did not stop even now. People were relaxing in bars and restaurants, couples in love strolled along the sidewalks. At times they came across tipsy though unaggressive people, who, staggering, wandered here and there going about their business.
There was practically no traffic on the road, so Cord drove relaxed and looked around at the surroundings and at Dia.
"How did you like the main heroine?" asked she.
The film had really impressed her, and Cord was pleased about that. Sometimes spontaneous decisions lead to surprisingly good results.
"Her appearance or her character?"
Cord stopped at a red light. The intersection was empty; from afar, a car was moving rapidly towards them. Probably wants to catch the green.
"In general."
Cord considered this for a minute.
"To be honest, not my type."
"And what is your type?"
"Well..." Cord smiled and drove forward, as the light had turned green. "Like you."
"Oh, is that it!?" Dia smiled shyly. "And what type am I?"
"Well, funny, smart—"
"Wait, wait a minute. How did you determine I am smart? Maybe I'm a fool?" Dia looked playfully at Cord.
He looked back at her.
"I'm an investigator, I have to understand people."
"Is that it? Then tell me— CORD!"
He noticed it himself, but it was too late. Cord slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel, hoping to avoid a collision, but the silence was cut by the wild sound of metal grinding on metal. They were shaken, Dia screamed, and Cord barely had time to realize where they were headed...