Alexander Cherenov - Penny Criminal Case

Petin lowered his eyes.

“Well, I told him… I said I want her…”

“Want her”?! ” Petrov “worked to intercept” instantly.

“No, well, not that… Well, in general… what I already told you…”

“And dad?” Petrov’s eyes lit up with speculation. “How did dad react?”

The youngster lowered his head.

“He said that there is no need to write nonsense… that he will deal with her himself.”

“And?”

The eyes of the lieutenant colonel were lit with predatory lights now: a tiger, not a policeman!

Petin puffed.

“Well, he went to them… to the Kotovs in the yard… well, and there he promised… that is, he said…”

“He threatened,” Petrov corrected cheerfully.

“Yes… that he would fuck her, because she offended his son…”

“And to whom did he say this?” Petrov continued to perform as a soloist: again, “having gone through the window”, Starkov obviously thought of something of his own, obviously not connected in any way with the testimony of Petin.

“He said this to all Kotovs…”

“Who heard these words?”

“Neighbors…”

Petrov turned to Starkov energetically.

“What do you say, bro?” Exactly the same!”

However, for some reason, Starkov was in no hurry to share the enthusiasm of the lieutenant colonel. Instead of a cheerful connection to the celebration, he first chewed on his lips vaguely, and only then issued a text, but not at all the one, that Petrov, still emitting a glow, expected from him. And the recipient of the text was not the lieutenant colonel.

“And tell me, Petin Junior, when you stated to your father your plan regarding Kotova, was there anyone else besides you at home?”

Ignored by the “diversionist bro”, Petrov was offended at first, and then he blew out his lips in surprise. His whole appearance did not even speak, but it cried out: what about this? Why divert the conversation – along with the guy – from a promising topic?

Suddenly, Petin also shared the chagrin of his “torturer”, but for a different reason. The question of the “senior investigator for particularly important cases” did not please him only because the guy obviously did not object to his own replacement with the “sacrificial bed” and prison bunkers. The younger one obviously did not object to his father replacing him in the role of the accused. Therefore, he was upset at first, and only then began to recall. Remembering, he even ventured to pull his shoulder once, as if doubting the reliability of the memory.

“No, it seems no one… Mother was at work… She works as a cleaner… Although…”

“What?” Starkov perked up slightly.

“Some ‘cop’ came to us… sorry: a policeman… in a jacket…”

“In civilian clothes.”

“Yes.”

“What kind of ‘cop’ he was?”

“I saw him for the first time,” Petin scowled. “A lot of them go to my father… If something happens somewhere, they immediately interrogate my father…”

“Can you recognize him?”

Petin wrinkled his narrow forehead and shook his head.

“He talked to my father. I came out of the kitchen at that moment. And he stood back to me.”

“Can your dad recognize him?”

“Well, it’s necessary to ask him,” Petin combined the bolder and insolent: he clearly felt, that the interest of the investigation was switching again in the direction that was saving for him – to dad.

“And at what point did this ‘cop’ appear?”

Starkov generously forgive this insolent: now he was more interested in the continuation, than in the reward. Petrov stiffened with his mouth open – clearly not because of the perturbation of Starkov’s “softness”: with each question, Alex went farther and farther away from the “mainstream” direction.

“I do not remember.”

“Well, you have not finished setting out your plan to your father?”

Petin ventured to move his shoulder again.

“Well, the policeman… came… this evening, when we talked with the father… well, about all this…”

Starkov sat back in his chair with obvious satisfaction on his face. Finally, Petrov, judging by his clarifying glance, had already begun to guess, that the “off-topic questions” were, nevertheless, on the topic, even if not completely clear to the lieutenant colonel.

“Okay!”

Since Starkov did not express any intention to continue the inquiry, Petrov vigorously thumped his hand on the table and “sentenced” the situation.

“Sign the protocol: here, here and here!.. Signed? Captain, take this rapist away…”

Petin flinched and pulled his head into his shoulders.

“… back to the camera and come back!”

When the doors closed behind both of them, Petrov – already with a dull face: the inimitable master of the transition from one state to another – switched to Starkov.

“Bro, do you think that the real killer came to them under the guise of a policeman?”

“Or a real killer as a real policeman,” Starkov did not hesitate to respond, swaying in his chair.

This time, the lieutenant colonel did not gawk indignantly. For some time he frowned, silently sniffed and ruffled the earlobe: he thought. Finally, he decided:

“This is not from real life, bro! This is a movie! ‘Maybe, somewhere out there, high in the mountains, but not in our area’…”

The quote was quite recognizable, but for some reason it did not add enthusiasm on Starkov’s face. But its absence – exactly according to Lomonosov – added determination on the face and in voice of Petrov.

“Let’s better deal with Petin senior instead of composing the image of a maniac!”

“Okay,” Starkov shrugged indifferently.

Petin Sr. was delivered an hour after his pimply son was returned to the prison meal. Dad turned out to be a colorful personality, but despite the visual involvement in the criminal world: two impressed rings on his fingers, some faded tattoo on his shoulder – he obviously didn’t be an “authority”. His whole appearance spoke rather of a hooligan past and an alcoholic present. And now he was drunk, wrinkled and sleepy.

“Sit down.”

“I’ll still be in time,” Petin began to pretend to be “authority”, “not moving away” from the chair, but not even approaching it. He failed – in contrast to the hose, which briskly walked on the back of the “dissident”. Next to the rubber was connected the knee of captain, which helped the defendants to realize their place in this office: in the center of the chair.

“We know everything,” Petrov, who was pretty tired to talk – not from physical assault – began his work immediately.

“What to talk about then?” Petin grinned.

“About confession.”

“Don’t bluff, ‘cop’!”

The “opposition” cost him two more sobering sets of rubber hose.

“Let’s start, or what?” Petrov bent over him.

“So you already started.”

Grimacing painfully, Petin rubbed his “bruised” shoulder.

“True, not from the end…”

“Should I hit you in the face right away?” Petrov “specified the coordinates of the end” immediately. This time, Petin thought it best to remain silent: apparently, he began to understand, that this “cop” was too straightforward for a “courtly” conversation.

“Will you talk?”

Petrov patted rubber on the palm.

“About what?” Petin glances at the hose with cautious.

“About how you and your son discussed the plan of rape and murder of a minor Kotova.”

Petin frowned.

“We did not discuss anything with him.”

“But your son claims the opposite.”