1
In life, as opposed to detective novels, criminals do not work on a schedule, such as "Monday a murder, Tuesday a murder, and Wednesday a day off", so that the police don't get bored. On the contrary, they get small and go to ground several weeks so as not to fall victim to the most active phase of manhunts.
Then after a month, they can commit another evil deed.
The police, however, are not stupid and usually catch criminals, on average, in four days. In any case, that is what the official statistics state and, in fact, is not far from the truth. In reality, by nature, most criminals turn out not to be cunning villains who carefully plan their dark deeds but ordinary people, who are most often simply unhappy. After all, who in their right mind would want to destroy their own personal happiness for the sake of committing dubious offenses?
From time to time, Cord studied the materials of unsolved cases, trying to find common ground between them, but always the thought that the common ground was himself never left his head.
Was Familiar connected to the accident and the hospital massacre? In theory, he had a motive to try to ward me off from the first case. But could he have changed his appearance in a day? Maybe yes. But his body type? Hardly! Only drunken eyes in semi-darkness might not have noticed the differences between us. How could Familiar have persuaded a trucker to ram my car? Well, for example, if he was told that his wife's lover was driving it. The man who had destroyed his life. Funnily enough, it might well have worked in precisely that way. The more stupid a person is, the more he loves empty but pretentious clichés like 'ruined life,' 'the truth is with us' or 'only you can prevent this'.
Cord decided to share these thoughts with his friend.
Force, after listening carefully to him, thought for a moment.
"There is one thing," he began in a leisurely fashion, "which I think makes this clever plan too contingent on chance. If we accept the fact that Familiar, or whoever he was, was not only able to, in only one day, make a mask or make-up copying your appearance and found a man capable of fulfilling their plans, and then also found out your plans for the evening, including the times and the places you would go, and again, let me repeat, do everything within one day: how could he predict which way you would go from the cinema and then catch you on that exact route? You said that you and Dia had decided to go there spontaneously?"
"Yes…" Cord had also plunged into deep thought. "However, if he had an accomplice who was following us, and as soon as we left the cinema, he reported to Familiar say by pager—"
"Who at that moment was sitting in the bar and persuaded the trucker to ram the car. In that case, he should have known about your route before you chose it. That is, at the time the alleged accomplice sent him a message, the only thing he did not know was the exact time of your departure from the cinema. Therefore, he could not calculate the required time for the trucker to leave so that he could intercept you. But in fact, he did not need this information because, judging by your words, he already saw the future perfectly since he managed to ambush you in a completely random place."
Damn it!
2
On that memorable evening when Flaminga first brought him home, Force was horrified by the place where she lived. But what happened after they got into the apartment left on him, in the best sense, an indelible impression.
Force sat in the kitchen today and watched Flaminga cut beets into strips for
Especially Cord didn't need to know that.
Speaking of him… Force suddenly discovered that his friend's version was still in his head.
"Did you hear me?" he heard as if from afar.
"Huh?"
"How are things at work, I asked."
Flaminga looked at Force with displeasure. Apparently, she had asked this question more than once already.
"Ah… Nothing really, everything is quiet." The investigator finally fell out of deep thought. "Still investigating the murder at the hospital."
"Any new leads?"
"You know I can't talk about that—"
"Well, at least give me a hint. Otherwise, I won't feed you!"
"Hey. Why so harsh?"
Flaminga's borsch was excellent. During one of their first meetings, Flaminga treated her new boyfriend to it. She had warmed up what was left over from the day before, but Force almost swallowed his tongue in pleasure. He had definitely found the woman of his dreams.
"Let's just say, umm… Were we to visit an ancient theater, you would not be surprised by that."
"That?"
"I can't say anything else. Sorry."
Flaminga turned to a preheated frying pan, dumped beets into it, added vinegar, salt, sugar, a bowl of beef broth to it, and left it to simmer over medium heat.
Force never told her exact information directly, but she didn't need him to. The possibility of interpretation allowed the journalist to come up with and describe events based on her own imagination, and therefore not interfere with the work of the police. After all, she works for a women's entertainment magazine, she doesn't need facts. But it would be funny if her non-standard approach revealed the culprit's identity before the investigation did.
3
Cord, unlike his friend, tried not to mix work with his personal life. Dia was never interested in his current activities, only occasionally asked if something interesting had happened. (She could not forget the story about a grandfather and periodically told Cord: "You know, a decent man does not tell such things to the lady!" To which he usually parried: "Decent lady does not interest in such things!")
They had clearly found each other.
Cord began to visit his own home less often and more and more stayed with Dia. She wanted to invite him to move in, but she was embarrassed and afraid: what if he refused? However, this problem was soon resolved by itself.
***
On Saturday, September 18, Cord decided to clean up his apartment, wash his clothes, and generally put his life in order a little. With all the isolation and adventures, the apartment had become overgrown with a thick layer of dust, so much so that the gentle spiders, sitting in the corners, looked down reproachfully at the owner with all of their eight eyes.
Therefore, the first thing Cord did was vacuum them up so that he would not feel so ashamed. Then he turned on the cassette recorder where he had inserted a tape by a foreign punk-rock band that Dia had given him and began cleaning up.
In the evening, when the apartment began to look good, the phone in the hallway rang.
"Cord here."
"Hello… Uh-um… Hello?" The soft female voice on the phone sounded familiar, but Cord couldn't remember where he'd heard it before.
"Hello. Who is this?"
"Oh… Excuse me please, I'm Sky, a prostitute from Blue Eyes… Maybe you remember you gave me your card and told me to call in case of problems. So I thought—"
"Oh, Sky! Sorry I did not recognize your voice! Did something happen to you?"
"Uh… Could we meet today if it's not difficult for you?"
***
They met in a cafe near Cord's building. Sky looked a little tired but tried to stay cheerful.
"So what is the problem?"
"Ah… In the summer, when I came with my colleagues for the identification, one classmate from the university noticed me. He then told everyone that I work as a prostitute. And they… uh-uh… they started to mock me. Not at the university, but at the dormitory. The girls did not let me pass, and the boys asked how much it would cost to insert their little tools. I dislike this."
Cord was taken aback.
"That's why I want to ask, what should I do in this case? I now live with Madam, but I do not want to embarrass her, and because of this, I cannot live in the dormitory. After work, I almost immediately go to lessons, and I sleep during the day when the rest are awake."
"Are they interfering with your studies?"
"No, my studies are okay."
"And you do not want to transfer to another university?"
"No."
"Let's go then."
***
Sky looked around Cord's apartment in amazement.
"Are you serious?"
"Well, yes."
"And how much will it cost a month?"
"Nothing."
"But… But… How can that be?"
"That's it. Since you got into trouble because of me, live here, and I'll move in with my girlfriend. Or the location is not good enough?"
"No, no, everything is fine, it's just… Well, do normal people do that? They don't give away an apartment for free to a person they barely know?"
"So I guess that means I am not 'normal'," Cord laughed. "And there is no shame in helping a good person. And I don't think you're a slob."
"Oh. Well, I'm not like that, that's true," Sky smiled embarrassedly. "Everything will be clean here, I promise!"
"Well. The only request I have is that you pay the utilities according to the meters. Will there be money for that?"
"Yes, of course!"
"So, right now, I have to go for a few minutes. You look around for now."
Cord went into the hallway to the phone and dialed Dia's number.
"Dia, hello!" He decided to get down to business right away. "Are you at home today?"
"Hi!" A joyful voice was heard from the other end. "Just returned, and what?"
"Do you mind if I move in to live with you today?"
"Huh? What?"
"Well, to live together and all that?"
"What, but… Wait! I need to think!"
"You have ten seconds to say yeah."
"What mean 'ten seconds'?!"
"That's already nine. Eight. Seven…"
"Don't pressure me!"
"Six. Five. Four…"
"Seriously, I need to—"
"Say 'yeah'. Three…"
"Yeah, right!"
"As you say!"
"What do you mean?!"
"You said 'yeah'!"
"That doesn't count!"
"So I shouldn't come?"
"Come, of course! But then I'll beat you!"
"Great, I'll be there soon!"
Pleased, Cord hung up. Sky looked at him with interest.
"If I understood correctly, you just asked your girlfriend to live with her against her will?" she smiled.
"Ha! No, not at all. It seemed to me that she wanted to offer herself, but she was too embarrassed, apparently."
"And if you had been wrong? If she had refused?"
"Well, I have a homeless friend. I would live with him under a bridge," Cord winked.
"You're crazy!" Sky laughed.
***
So Cord moved in with his girlfriend. She lived on the top floor in a three-room apartment. One room had a wardrobe and a double bed; the other was used to relax. What struck Cord the most was plasma TV, which was impossible to find on sale anywhere. Dia explained her father had brought it back with him from abroad six months ago. The TV produced a fantastic picture.
Although the third room was renovated, it was empty except for boxes with Dia's things. Once noticing Cord fiddling with documents on the couch, she offered to organize a workplace for him. It was definitely not worth rejecting such an offer. They ordered a practical wooden desk and chair from a furniture store, and on the same day, they began to unpack the boxes. Most of them were clothes and books, but in one of them, Cord discovered something unusual—Dia's old photo album. At first, the girl, busy sorting dresses, did not pay attention to the absence of rustles from Cord's side, but then, suspecting something was wrong, she glanced at her boyfriend. He was looking at her childhood photos with a smile.
Dia blushed.
"Hey! What are you doing?!"
Cord turned around.
"You were a very nice kid."
Dia jumped up and tried to snatch the album out of his hands, but Cord, laughing, lifted it above his head.
"Give it back!" Diminutive Dia tried unsuccessfully to reach for the photo album. "Hey!"
After several attempts, she pouted resentfully, stormed into the bedroom, and slammed the door behind her. Cord ended up having to run to the store for a cake.
After that, Dia showed him everything herself and told him about them. She had a rather ordinary childhood, with only one amendment: instead of toy horses, she had real ones, and instead of friends who were her peers, she had nannies and servants.
Dia sighed.
"They were good, but you know, I often lacked simple childish conversation. Maybe that's why I grew up to be so strange."
Cord agreed and immediately got hit on the head with a pillow.