Alexander Cherenov - Penny Criminal Case

“What?” Petrov guarded.

“Someone put this button in her hand, most likely, the murderer himself.”

The lieutenant colonel frowned.

“Leads us on a false trail?”

“Or he laughs at us, trying to confuse in a pile of assorted evidence. And if our ‘fortune telling on the coffee grounds’ is true, then this means, that Ivanov did not lose button – it was stolen from him… for us especially.”

Similar in content views of Starkov and Petrov met and did not diverge anymore.

“Yes, bro: in this case, we will not soon get to know him… if ever we meet…”

With difficulty, as if stuck, Starkov tore his backside from the tabletop, on which he had settled down even during a conversation with Bessonov.

“It seems, my friend Boris, that with this case we are in full ass…”

Starkov returned to the prosecutor’s office, but as soon as he managed to cross the threshold of the office, the telephone rang.

“This is Petrov, bro. Come back soon: Koval returned from school, and information passed ‘on the bottom’ also.”

Starkov, frustrated, hit his fist on the table.

“Let me have lunch, Boris. There is a pancake store around the corner… damn, well, you know…”

“Lunch together with us!” the tube banged indisputable tone. “Today there is a very good lunch here: borsch, meatballs with mashed potatoes with milk, compote of dried fruits. The discount is one hundred percent for everything! Well, and alcohol, we find, of course! We are waiting for you!”

Twenty minutes later, instead of the standard ten, due to the “buzzing” legs, Starkov opened the door to Petrov’s office once again.

“I’m sorry, bro, but me without you – like without hands!” Petrov obeyed immediately. “And don’t worry about the dining room: they will bring our lunch here! But first, let’s finish the program of the day!”

Starkov wearily sat down on a chair.

“Boris, the first point immediately: what information is ‘on the bottom’?”

The lieutenant colonel winked at Starkov conspiratorially.

“We have something! Our man, after all, ‘unwound’ the boy. Well, this is not a sincere confession, of course, but, so to speak…”

“Do not hurt, bro!”

Petrov jerked himself up to Starkov, almost buried his face in his face.

“The boy confessed that the school regularly scoffed at him, and, not so much the boys, how many girls. Well, did you see this jerk?”

Starkov nodded his head.

“Here you go. He was freed from physical education ‘for outstanding sporting achievements’: he could not even run a hundred meters, he came last, after all the girls. On physical education, he always sat on a bench against the wall and ‘heard’ " insults, with which he was presented during the whole lesson. Kotova tried to insult him especially.”

Petrov grinned.

“The girl had a pretty face, a beautiful figure, an arrogant character. Petin got more from her than anybody else. This is an ‘iron’ motive!”

Petrov stared at Starkov with his gaze: he was looking for signs of approval, but he did not find it.

“Do not be distracted, bro,” Starkov winced wearily. “Got more than anyone else”. And?”

The lieutenant colonel snoozed offendedly: he did not expect such a reaction to his deduction.

“Okay… Once, when Petin, who was already pissed off because of insults…”

“The soul of the poet could not bear the shame of petty offenses”?”

“Something like this… So, one day, after the lessons, Petin decided to build muscle. He sneaked into an empty gym, hooked on the crossbar on the horizontal bar… and hung like a sausage! Here he was caught…”

“In flagranti delicti,” Starkov couldn’t restrain again.

“What?” the lieutenant colonel was honest.

“At the crime scene” – this is Latin.”

“Well, I am talking about this,” Petrov returned to the image. “Petin thought he was alone, but he was wrong. This Kotova and girlfriends tracked him down, and when he hung, she jumped out from the ‘ladies’ dressing room and… What do you think was next?”

“Called to thinkers,” Ivanov, with a weary reproach, was “noted” at Trofimenko.

“And why should I think if you yourself tell me everything?”

“Why are you insulting me?” the lieutenant colonel grunted sadly. But after a moment there was no trace of his grief on his face. “They pulled off his leotards and underwear!”

“And they didn’t find anything under his underpants?” Starkov “guessed” with a grin.

“Exactly!” Petrov almost roared with delight. “His penis turned out to be…”

“No more acorn?” Starkov guessed again.

“Precisely, bro!”

Colonel was bursting with delight. It was felt, that the information did not just give him “aesthetic pleasure”: it fit nicely into his “iron” version.

“The girls began to laugh, and Kotova said bluntly, that he had nothing to do on a woman with such a ‘good’! So she said directly: he has nothing to do on the woman, because there is nothing! Do you imagine it?!”

“Go on, go on,” Starkov “imagined”.

“The boy got so angry, that he promised to kill her, but before that, show her ‘how he has nothing to do with the woman’!”

Petrov was so tired of his own enthusiasm that he had to turn for help to a glass of mineral water. He shared fraternally with Starkov, of course. Having wiped out his wet chin in a popular way – with a sleeve – he could not stand the test of glory and “dressed in triumphant” again.

“That’s where the stick in the ‘hole’, bro! This is what he wanted to show by this – and he showed! That’s how, and most importantly, with what tool he fucked her! I no longer speak for the motive: revenge! This is understandable even to a fool!”

Petrov again moved towards Starkov with the expression on the face of a regular conspirator.

“By the way, the ‘booty’ of Koval fully confirms the fact… well, the incident in the gym and the ‘solemn promise of the young pioneer’. Koval has eight explanatory letters from girls and boys. And besides…”

The kind of conspirator has become “intolerable conspiratorial”.

“… we have something for the father, for Petin senior. They say that the tearful-pimply son complained to dad, and he promised his son, that the bitch will be punished for insulting.”

“Where does this information come from?” Starkov interested narrowed his eyes.

“From Koval, of course!” Petrov spread his hands, surprised by the “inconsistency” of the counterpart.

Starkov grinned.

“Comrade did not understand”: I ask, what objectively confirms the rumors that Koval got at school? “They say” is not proof.”

The lieutenant colonel ceased to radiate a glow and wrinkled his “Leninist” forehead.

“Well, you are welcome to all we have. Do not worry: we will complete the work! The main thing is to make a start!”

“There are no objections to this, bro,” Starkov said in a soft voice. “And by the way, have you already given a task to your subordinates about Petin senior?”

Petrov’s broad face blossomed with a condescending smile.

“You underestimate me, bro! My two detectives are already there! And not for peeping from behind the bushes: as soon as he appears, we will seize him immediately!”

“Okay!”

Starkov sentenced the question with a sonorous slap of the wide palm.

“And now, what: let’s work out a pimply boy?”

Since the text didn’t even resemble the question, it was Petrov, who oriented himself instantly: Starkov was just “putting on a sign”, but the lieutenant colonel was already pressing the dial key.