Heading “Old Kind Thriller“
of Alex LENNOX the Translation from English
the &ndash LANGUAGE
; By Whom is it printed?
- It was printed by life. And life - you know - very fun-loving lady.
I laughs it, as a rule, a wide grin of a skull with terrible empty eye-sockets. In emptiness of their look something is, isn`t that so?.
(“Conversations with Death“)
the Investigator with irritation pressed a smelly cigarette in a chipped ashtray where already decent hill of izzhyovanny stubs rose. Typical “wood-grouse“ as it is accepted to be expressed in certain circles. Starting interrogation, he had a presentiment intuition skilled “ńűńęŕđ˙“ that time will be lost forever and absolutely in vain - but the caustic administration pressed, pressed as the last hours it pressed one for another the cheap cigarettes which are finished smoking to the filter.
the Administration can be understood - whether a joke, two murders at the same entrance of an apartment house. And in only two days. Even for the average size of the megalopolis far from scales of New - York or Mexico City, it is obvious search. But also it it is possible to understand too - thirteen years in criminal investigation department, almost without normal holidays, thirteen years of communication with a scum of society, prudent murderers, robbers, psychopaths, code-bound criminals, the wives who ordered husbands, the husbands who in the heat of jealousy pinned up a kitchen knife blessed … The fatigue, of course, affects, anyhow.
it, in general, was ready To senseless loss of precious time since yesterday. The testimonies of witnesses confirming an indisputable alibi of the main suspect got to it on a table even in the evening. It was only necessary to put the end to this foul business - “to close a body“ as it is bad eternally gloomy head of department always differing peculiar, directly - English, sense of humour joked at a stone look, joking without any hint on a smile, than sometimes just brought into the confusion of new employees which is not fired youth.
The emigrant living in a room under the roof on the top floor, was found by neighbors in the morning on Monday - Ferret Distemper lay backwards, having widely stretched hands, under a window on a landing, in a pool of the darkened blood which was in time to thicken in a night. The expert determined death time rather precisely - for half an hour till midnight. The death occurred almost instantly - in the left side the wooden handle of the tool of a crime stuck out - very large self-made pricker, similar shoe, but with longer and direct edge was it.
in all this history to the investigator seemed to the Most disgusting what is nearby, at steps, the blood-stained piece of the meat covered with pimples as if the freak who bathed in ice water, and from it gone goosy, getting out on the dirtied beach rolled in dust.
The day before a vile piece of flesh was than other as language of the killed Ms. Distemper.
the Forensic expert assumed that this act of vandalism was made after death of the victim, that is had, so to speak, no humiliating character, was not way of torture. More likely, the sophisticated “message of the author of murder“ &ndash took place; bloody volume hieroglyph. Which should have been understood quite unambiguously. The expert nodded on the letters traced by blood on a wall and said an abbreviation - SBS - having right there deciphered it: “Death - Brekhliva - the Bough“. “Yes, - the captain scratched a nape, - experts have the perverted sense of humour, without conceding in anything to the administration“.
After long inquiries of neighbors - and, the main thing, neigbours - tiresome standard procedure - “diagnosis“ was confirmed. The dead, appears, was during lifetime the persuasive boring aunt suffering from mania of unceasing chatter (actually, the word “suffering“ is inexact reflected the phenomenon - just people around suffered) and treated the most dangerous tribe of hronofag (the captain adopted this word, having read something from classics of science fiction few years ago), zombie circumstances or unsuccessful education of the people devouring others time.
he hated similar public - even if “plunders of time“ were externally shown in as if harmless monotonous retelling of ten old jokes in a row or to keeping of the interlocutor for a sleeve in desperate attempts to state everything a medical record to analyses inclusive.
But work is work, will not sew emotion to business, sympathy with antipathies in relation to a corpse and its former neighbors (by the way, how pertinently similar expression, “a corpse and its neighbors“? - the captain thought, beginning to smoke the next cigarette) it was necessary to thrust where far away.
And next day inhabitants of the house were shaken by awful death of the artist, it is a lot of years having chronic alcoholism (here the word “suffering“ got broader sense, than in the previous case) and davny - long ago thrown university into Cue understandably. Talented in the past - according to one of the neigbours who had a kind feeling for the dead man (he ornamented her oil paints a hall in student`s years when only - only conceived a liking for a bottle) - the studied less historian, seemingly, jumped out of a staircase window the floor below. Everything looked as ordinary suicide: the cracked window, the growing white bone splinters on dark asphalt around the crumbed medley on the place of the head - the artist fell from the fourth floor headfirst. Examination showed the high content of alcohol in blood of the dead. What was confirmed by results of visual inspection of the dirty started apartment - empty bottles on dusty corners, the torn packages from potato chips and even a fetid can from - under cat`s canned food; this type had obviously a snack on what cheaper. The inscription, quite professionally, a Gothic font executed on a narrow leaf of the Whatman paper which turned yellow from time was evident: “Chips are an ability to sell one potato at the price of one kilogram“ (Perhaps, the slogan was related to vital credo of the dead man - though at first sight you will not tell it). The captain frowned - from the phrase as if an Americanism which he hated neither in surrounding people, nor in surrounding products. For the same reason he quietly hated Tony Blair - as can eternally smiling the upstart - the prime minister so defiantly to support foreign policy of this beaten bastard, the American president?! And after all idiotic tongue-tied words, after all military adventures, quite transparent oil pipelines - he still dares to argue on the international terrorism and to paste labels to the right and on the left?! The captain gritted the teeth for rage and to distract from unpleasant thoughts, looked in a dim window. The hell with them, with politicians. It is necessary to hand over business in dokhloye archive.
Yes, everything looked as the ordinariest suicide in an attack of delirium tremens. If not one “but“. The open door to the apartment of the dead man was not open, and is cracked. And hardly noticeable trace of a corrugated sole on a light door covering precisely near the copper roundish handle said that the door was opened from one blow. Hit into the lock as if knowing about a hlipkost loosened weak “the locking device“.
Of course, under suspicion at once appeared the numerous, pale and some rubbed, worn out, ordinary-looking persons, the dead man`s drinking companions (for certain it was not succeeded to find for all, but also what was “dug out“, were enough with interest). The Izdyorganny nervous neighbors with whom already by which day representatives of law enforcement agencies were as obliges forced to carry out the second “cycle of conversations about the main thing“ even not all drinking companions were known by sight. The concierge was absent here, and the door open often in an entrance as if invited to come everyone.
Under suspicion appeared almost at once also one of neighbors living in the lower apartment whom the dead man in recent years lives (he - that did not know, of course, that years were for it the last) quite often filled in with cold and hot water alternately. Actually, got also to other inhabitants - in especially “successful“ cases the water poured, for example, from a bathroom caused a direct loss and to all other apartments, “got to a firing zone“. The fact that the dead man “hesitated“ for some reason (probably, a peculiar shyness was peculiar to the creative person along with many other qualities) seemed important to pay to neighbors the regular repairs which became to nausea.
A month before two death which shook the public just also happened the next “Flood“ which became a last straw, the personality exhausted all patience quiet earlier with the diploma of the druggist (and, therefore, and knowledge of vegetable poisons as for himself the captain mechanically noted) - and such peace person it is possible to enrage. Followed from testimonies of residents that for the first time the person brought to almost deranged state broke a door of the hidden and frightened alcoholic and threatened “to the organizer vodno - an act of terrorism“ with all penalties heavenly! Neighbors confirmed that they heard - for the first time heard! - as the person quiet before almost growled, shaking with powerful blows the locked door and showering with the alcoholic - “terrorist“ with various curses.
Statistics - a thing serious. And statistically, known for all employee of police services, the majority of crimes, in particular murders, is made on the primitive household soil (and frequent relatives, - to a bible parable about Cain and his brother quite modern psychological motives proceeding from the human nature are peculiar - by the way, the family of the dead also to a descent was included in the list of suspects).
the true professional had no right to Ignore the household moment, so simple, too simple cause of offense. Similar murders as long-term practice of the skilled police officer showed, most often have nothing in common with the confused schemes from Agatha Christie`s novels or Conan of Doyle.
The investigator asked himself a question: that druggist under the influence of affect could commit murder? Quite. But there passed nearly a month since the flood which caused vryv rage of the person whose walls in the apartment began to remind picturesque falls from the cards which are bought up by tourists. Means if he also committed murder, then thought over everything in advance. And there is the following question - why to the person owning knowledge of the diverse poisons to throw the offender from a window of the fourth floor? Whether it is simpler to treat him with binge with a certain component which after poisoning will almost instantly break up in an organism and any examination will not find in an organism of the fast-decaying deadly poison? And instead states the cardiac attack provoked by the next injection of alcohol in through the alcoholized organism? Illogically.
Interrogation, certainly, was necessary. However the vague hope to extend recognition from “suspect number one“ only, figuratively speaking moved and went to a realm of shadows - after those two shadows which death haunted the investigator all these days.
in the course of interrogation the captain in the way, absolutely inexplicable for itself as if fell under some (hypnotic?) influence or influence. Interrogation gradually turned into the suspect`s monologues which are occasionally interrupted by the investigator`s questions. In monologues, as if merging in one, a little connected with the main subject of conversation.
the Police officer felt that he is powerless to stop transformation of interrogation into a monologue - the confession which was not recognition in murder and more likely confirming an alibi of the strange person with the burning look. A look almost maniacal, a look of the keen enthusiast of the business - that`s it, “the business“ - but to know for certain, to know precisely what put …
I one of pieces of a monologue right there recurred to the memory the captain who is still feeling strange feeling of the constraint imposed from the outside where all of them, these ambiguous phrases, busily turned as if motive of the become attached song - a smash hit. Were at the tip of the tongue, it is similar turned around the confused scuba diver of the grinned toothy sharks.
“… You know, very easy way you want to remove stress, a stress, I will share? I am not sorry! It from some book, forgot a name of the author, I in general read much, it is difficult to remember everything in details - and what, in effect, a difference? (Not we write, it is written “through us“ …) the Main thing that general impression remained - if the book good, it is quite enough. Generally, if you want to commit murder - for example, someone well very strongly irritates you, disturbs you on life, very seriously disturbs, forcing down from a spirit, or just destroying quiet life - it is necessary to put only aside to gloss the ground knife, and to take up the pen - no, not in criminal sense, I know that it on a criminal slang “feather“ - and to take a feather in the most literary (epistolary if you want if the word “literature“ in this context jars on you) sense. You take and WRITE MURDER - and than stronger you hate the alleged victim considering itself, for example, as a certain local tyrant, a tiranchik, a tiranishka - agree, similar types as much as necessary around - the stronger you despise similar object, the harmful subject, the best will turn out the detective story or the scenario (that will more true buy it from you in publishing house or edition - but it put minor). By the way, the excellent alibi in that case - rare, but quite probable can turn out (and life sometimes gives such surprises, such deadly surprises!.) - when the scenario existing only in your imagination, postponed for paper, and then, perhaps, which is spread around and read by hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands of people - when the scenario is realized! More precisely, in death. Successful pun, isn`t that so? Really, look - an alibi excellent, remarkable! Any of those hundreds or thousands which read murder easily could undertake its implementation - especially when more - places and characters are less precisely learned. And then characters become the victims in reality, pass from pages of the book, the magazine - into life, losing life. Agree, in it there is something mystical, mysterious, incomprehensible … Remarkably, isn`t that so? In criminally - literary history similar cases were, in cinema for them there was a town too. And, the most interesting - when, thinking out bloody details, “the author of murder“ professionally “twists“ the whole series of similar “masterpieces“ - puts, so to speak, on a stream this business, “on the conveyor“ (I mean production of cheap detective stories) - the reader will never be able to understand THAT from written fiction and that - the reality taking place in the reality surrounding it. The reader never learns, figuratively speaking how many corpses are actually buried in coastal sand near that country house of the world famous writer - or, God forbid, writers! Never learns how many it is dug real prototypes of characters at the ominous moonless nights on the desert beach. And in the afternoon, under beams of the sun, crowds of vacationers can play beach volleyball or recline on the mats, without guessing what all the one-and-a-half-meter layer of sand separates them from slowly decaying flesh, the bones which are scattered in ashes - whether it is transformed “skeleton in the cupboard“ is which, probably, is present almost at each house, almost at each family? Interestingly, isn`t that so? However, perhaps, I too exaggerate - but a way to reduce stress, you agree with me - excellent!.“
the Investigator rose from - for a table, approached a gray window. The look indifferently slid on become to davny - long ago habitual to a landscape behind stains of a dirty window - over poor kroner of rare trees, over humpbacked roofs of the shabby houses creeping in a new century from last time slid, clinging to a rough tile … Before its mind`s eye the bloody clot which vulgarly sprawled at erose brown steps loomed again. The fragmentary flesh which is torn violently away from breathless corpse.
I was thought that was, there was it once, the feeling “deja vu“ overflowed it an ice wave, the prestorm wave painted in disturbing aquamarine of causeless melancholy.
I came foreign thought again - the written plots are in the habit to come to life.
to Come to life not only in nightmares.
to Come to life, grinning a white grin of Death.
Alex LENNOX “Translation from English“
Suddenly the nape was squeezed by pain - strong, stupid. Senseless. Ruthless. It, escaping from this fiery vice, began to tend forward, rolling over for a window sill as if obeying someone`s dumb order … As if through fog, before it there was a haze - the burning look of the strange person incinerated his brain …
the Police officer tended his body forward and, at last, having slid off a window sill in foggy morning, departed by windows of all six floors. The last that he saw - promptly coming wet asphalt.