Elena Speranskaya - Alibi for the hero. Detective novel

“Are you talking about yourself?”

“I have a propensity for a dynamo, a perpetuum mobile, various navigational aids, and I’m negatively affected by the lack of money on the way to the university,” the graduate student explained, the habit of writing off homework without understanding the essence of the problem.

“Well, do not push such a trivial end to the students’ seat in lectures and practical classes at the tables in the classrooms… Tell me straight, poor fellow, tired of messing around?”

Alice happily noticed the first wrinkle on his forehead and remarked his outstanding abilities to herself.

“Money is needed to pay for the study of my eldest daughter at the university abroad beyond my understanding of reality,” the arrogant workaholic complained, advancing for himself always the largest tip, coming dry out of the water.

“How much you earn, so much and you will receive. No more no less. In the meantime, take on travel expenses,” Alice became agitated, explaining to her assistant the rules of the game, when she took out two hundred dollars from the “glove compartment” and put the currency into the outstretched hand to Oleg Tkachik without traces of manicure, as payment for parking in the proper place.

“Now tell me what must be done?”

Proud postgraduate Oleg produced the impression of a medieval noble knight of the Freemason’s Order with his free behavior and strong physique.

“I want to find out how you found out about my whereabouts?”

“It’s much easier than you think. I waited here for your appearance since yesterday. The last time we broke up at this corner. Have you forgotten?”

“You have not forgotten how to lie. I hardly believe your words.”

“And thank you for that,” said with a trembling sense of gratitude, according to the detective, a free mason.

“I gave money for a flight to the resort zone, or rather to Kislovodsk. There I already ordered two tickets. We leave at seven in the evening, so you’ll manage to get ready. Business does not require urgent. I will explain the reasons on the way. Prepare for the heavy losses of close relatives. This is very serious…” she said the last words with a mourning expression.

“Can you cover at least the outline of what is at stake?”

“You will be allowed to attend the sanatorium with healing springs ‘Glory to Sport’. You’ll take a room there or somewhere nearby,” Alice said, not paying attention to his idle questions. “Take with you the most necessary for mountaineering.”

“So I would say right away that you decided to teach me the basics of mine-rescue work,” the excitement that appeared on the face of a loyal employee was replaced by disappointment.

He squeezed inwardly, imagining himself swaying in the cradle of a funicular amidst mountain cracks with a depth of more than a thousand meters.

“Do not worry. On the way to the plane, I’ll bring you up to date, but for now I need to look for important information in the archive.”

“Alice, I agree. We’ll be in touch. It is not necessary to canonize the heroes without me and put a monument to the broken hopes on the grave.”

“You will learn how to behave yourself; you will participate even in the Intercontinental race for survival. Now, be content that you have children which you need to take care of. That is, educate, train and protect against bad influence.

“Clear. Do I have to step back and go into the shadows?”

“You’d better be a self-sufficient person, not a celluloid boy in errands.”

“And you still have to understand when you’ll call me to give false testimony; I will not come to see you.”

“Have agreed.”

Oleg resigned without a murmur, having received long-awaited dollars, for which he was ready to fly even to the end of the world. His previous business trip to Crimea fell through the poor orientation in the cellars of the Kiev-Pechersk Lavra, where he wanted to spend the night. But he was led out by obstinate monks, warning that if he once again encroached on the relics of the holy of holies, he would not even be able to exist in hell after death, but would immediately fall into purgatory. From such seditious words the unfortunate graduate student almost stopped his heart. But the nostalgia for their native places and the craving for daylight prevailed. After this incident, the Crimea became closed to him at the direction of the detective.

A year ago, when the detective-woman arrived in Kiev to a distant family, he and operatives Regimov and Seregin were asked to investigate the case of complex, even fatal events that occurred in the monastery. When the tourists, following the guide in the underground catacombs, found the corpse of the murdered monk, they were terribly frightened. They summoned experienced operatives to find the culprit in such a terrible tragedy. Alice remembered that then they parted ways with Tkachik in the strangest way. He wandered around without looking at souvenirs, on the territory of the Lavra – a unique Orthodox shrine, founded in 1051 by monks Anthony and Theodosius, located in the center of the Ukrainian capital, on the right bank of the Dnieper river.

The tour took almost an hour and a half. The guide collected everyone in the center at the main gate, reasonably for the detailed story, inflating the price of entrance tickets. Very fussing about her future excursionists, she, unconcerned by passing excursions, in front of the detective, wore one – a purple translucent, with short sleeves – a sweater, then another – brightly green, with long sleeves resembling a Harlequin suit. Periodically consulting with those who followed her elegant manipulations, surreptitiously watching how the ill-fated post-graduate student Oleg reacted to these actions, since the responsibility for his behavior would have to be borne by her

“Well, how do I look at that collar? Not very funny?” she chirped with a purely Russian accent, creating around herself a circle of tourists.

“It’s funny,” said Alice from time to time, always turning away so as not to inhale the amber, coming from the heated body of the “priestess of travel and dangerous transitions,” as she called herself, carefully concealing her passport data.

“I want to warn you all, do not inhale the astringent aroma of my perfume,” she ordered in a stern voice, giving food for thought to the men and finally clouding Alice’s head.

“Why is she so fussing about?” the detective thought suddenly. “I guess she has her own specific plans. I do not even have a piece of sugar in my pocket to offer it as a prize, as in the circus arena, when encouraging obedient trained animals to chew something delicious before the next performance.”

“I have no sweets with me,” Alice said aloud, attracting the attention of an unknown bum who adhered to their group, so that he could coordinate in his manners of behavior and not fall into depression if someone had negative thoughts about his appearance.

He wore ugly light gray trousers, an excessively shiny shirt and something like a beret with knots and holes on his large head. He found a piece of cloth on the way to the Lavra, roaming between the alleys of houses and dumps, reporting to the detective:

“Of course, the excursion is interesting, but I’m more attracted by the ancient wall paintings and icons on those buildings that I surveyed when I served here as a novice about twenty years ago. Then I was arrested for three days for stealing a piece of bread in the store. So now I’ll try to get into the very essence of the foundations of the state system. After all, Kievan Rus came from here,” he explained edifyingly, and the white-haired vortexes of the thief and the bastard peeped out into the holes in the scarf on his head. “And my headdress from the secret storerooms of the universe resembles the usual ritual scarf of the Israelites during the Easter service.”