Вячеслав Яцко: The Professor's Murder

"I can be at your place in half an hour. Will that do?"

"Yes, I think that's OK".

I put the receiver and took a deep breath. That type of women was familiar to me. They are good-natured, light-hearted, they are fond of chattering, eating, and they make good wives, unless they are stupid, which is mostly the case. To get something from such a woman you must adopt simple tactics: listen attentively to what she is saying, display true interest, ask questions and agree with conclusions. I used such tactics from time to time though to constantly employ it was maddening and I could understand my friends who used to run from such women like the devil from holy water.

Maria Snegova was a high, stout but pretty woman. To get her signature on the waiver cost me forty minute talk. She informed me that 'Miss Snegova' was her stage pseudonym and her real name was Grechko and told in detail the story of her relations with the ex husband, an officer who deserted her moving to the other city. I nodded my head as a Chinese figurine but managed to I cut in to explain the purpose of my visit. She first got angry, described the 'loathsome' behavior of 'that whore' and even tried to demonstrate to me her bruises. I expressed my sympathy and recounted the sufferings of Olga. Her flat was robbed, the husband murdered but even when he was alive he didn't pay due attention to his wife, never listened to the poor woman, and completely concentrated on his scientific work.

"How horrible!" exclaimed the woman and put her signature without hesitation. She even offered her help.

Inspired by this success I drove to the next meeting. It was a quarter to twelve but students never go to bed so early. Normal students at least. I felt sure Oleg Ruchko was normal and was still awake, but the reality exceeded my expectations.

I stood on the stair landing pressing the button of the door bell for the tenth time to no effect. Loud music that was heard behind the door drowned the bell ring. I couldn't contain myself any longer and rashly kicked the door. The door creaked mournfully and opened: it wasn't locked. I entered the room and felt the specific smell of cigarette smoke mixed with the odor of vodka and other hard drinks.

It was a standard two room flat with a long corridor that had a door to the drawing room and joined a smaller corridor where the door of the bathroom and toilet were seen. To the right of it was a bedroom and to the left – a kitchen

Judging by the number of leather jackets on the coat rack there should be at least six persons in the flat but nobody took the trouble to come to greet me. I had to explore the territory on my own.

I opened the door of the drawing room to see a fellow and a girl whose naked bodies were in a position that Kamasutra calls a 'pressed position'.

I shut the door quietly. Even if the fellow was Oleg Ruchko I had no right to interrupt the process.

Another guy tumbled out of the bathroom. He was dressed only in panties and had a typical red face. Noticing me he mumbled: "You … late".

"I understand that it's late but I'm in urgent need of meeting Mr. Oleg Ruchko".

"Very late...freak" stubbornly continued the guy wagging his finger at me.

I realized that standard language was of no use in such environment and it was time to resort to the lexicon of the mumba-umba tribe, as I call it.

"I", shouted I sticking a finger in my breast, "Alex!" "And you?" I stuck a finger in his breast.

"Oleg", answered he.

"Ruchko?"

He nodded.

"I have something for you!" shouted I and pushed him into the bathroom.

The bath was occupied by a girl who wasn't in the least surprised on seeing us.

I turned on a cold shower and directed a spurt at Ruchko's head bending it over the bath. Ruchko puffed producing inarticulate sounds and then cried: "Enough!" When he raised his head his eyesight was clearer and the countenance more intelligent.

"I have something for you!", said I again.

He nodded, rubbed his head with a towel and went out of the bathroom heading for the bedroom. As he opened the door we saw round white buttocks of a woman who bent in a position not described in Kamasutra. The flat was humming with sexual activity

Ruchko made a helpless gesture and suggested going to the kitchen.

The kitchen was not occupied, but it was not empty. The sink was filled with dirty plates, glasses, spoons, forks. The table boasted of a row of bottles and plates bestrewed with cigarette butts.

"I can tell by your eyes you are a regular lad" admitted he, took a bottle of vodka and tried to fill the glass. The bottle produced a scanty drop. The boy peeped into the bottle's neck as if trying to understand where the contents had gone.

"You are late!' harped he on his favorite tune and struck his fist on the table. Some bottles fell on the floor.

"I can tell by you eyes, you are one of the lads!" said I adopting new tactics and patting Ruchko on the shoulder. "Do you respect me?"

"Sure".

"Then sign this paper". I gave him a pen and a waiver.

The boy stared blankly at the paper. "No. My mother always told me not to sign any papers". He put the pen aside. "What is it all about?"

I reminded him of the events at the restaurant.

Ruchkov's face brightened up. "We celebrated Vovan's birthday and that chick fell and broke the whole table". He chuckled. "And that zany woman, professor's wife!"

"You, slyboots. You must compensate. My jeans were spoilt". He wagged his finger at me.

"No problem. How much shall I pay?" I took out my wallet.

"No. That won't do. You see we have run out of fuel". He waved his hand at the rows of empty bottles. "A box of vodka and we'll be even-steven".

"And can I see Marina Sotova?" inquired I.

"Marka? You have just seen her ass". He carelessly pointed in the direction of the bedroom. "She will do what I'll tell her".

It took me about half an hour to find the nearest convenience store, buy a box of vodka and get two waivers in exchange.

I left Ruchko's flat feeling almost happy.

When I was approaching my car something heavy struck my head and I lost consciousness.

5. Olga's Discharge

When I came to my senses I saw a big head of a German sheep dog above me. The dog's tongue was hanging out and its saliva dropped on my necktie.

"Are you alive?" heard I a human voice.

I tried to raise myself a little and felt a sharp pain at the back of the head. Somebody picked me up under the arms and helped to stand up.

"I walked Jim along the street and saw that man attack you with that bar! Can you imagine that? But for my Jim he would have beaten you to death!" spoke an elderly man in an agitated tone.

"Voronin! It was he. With all these troubles I have forgotten about him", volleyed the thoughts through my mind.

"Thank you very much. Could you, please, help me to get to my car?" asked I and in a minute was walking to the car leaning on the old man's shoulder.

I was sitting in the car, my head reeling. The clock showed 1.20 a.m. It was time to visit "Otvet". I switched the roof light and turned back the sun visor to open a built-in mirror. The mirror showed a stained face with roughed up hair and battered clothes. I tried to tidy myself up as far as possible and then started the engine.

Mr. Zilberman eyed me tentatively. As he was a businessman I began our conversation giving him my business card. He read it carefully.

"I heard about you Mr. Larin", said he. "I'll keep your business card perhaps I'll need your assistance some day".

"Now it's me who needs your assistance", I forced a smile. "I mean the incident with Mrs. Smirnova in the evening. I defend her interests."

"Smirnova? But she gave some other name. Smirnova…Professor Smirnov's wife? I understand then. Yes, the episode was really unhappy. Miss Snegova and four guests were aggrieved".