Alexandra Marinina
Illusion of sin
When looking at this room with a lie in the middle of a corpse of an old woman, for some reason an association with Dostoevsky has arisen. Murder of the old woman of the member. Although killed, according to preliminary data, the usury did not work and the pawnshop at home was also not satisfied. Moreover, the situation in a large apartment in the "Stalinist" has evidenced by the supply and aristocratic roots of the owners.
Once in this apartment lived a well-known scientist, Academician Sumagorin, but it was a long time ago. The deceased, Ekaterina Benedictovna Aniskovets was his daughter. Having been married three times in your life, she changed the surname as many times, but not instead of residence. In this house she lived, perhaps, longer than all of his inhabitants. Only her apartment was separate, the rest had long been turned into communal with constantly changing residents. Some received or bought new housing and left, others drove as a result of exchanges with relatives or spouses. The doors of the apartments were covered with diverse buttons of calls and cards with surnames, and only the door to the apartment of Catherine Benedictovna had one-only call and a beautiful metal plate with the inscription: "Academician V. V. Sumagorin".
The forensic medical expert examined the body, the expert climbers kolden over the search for traces. The murder was clearly drawn on the mercenary, committed with the purpose of robbery, was very rich in the apartment and the mess was a terrible disorder. Immediately can be seen - here I was looking for something.
Did you have relatives? - asked the Olshansky investigator at the neighbor, invited as understood.
I do not know, "a young woman in a sports suit was unspelled. "I live here not so long ago, just six months." But I was told that she had no children.
Who in your house can someone tell about Aniskovets? Who lives here for a long time?
Oh, I do not know, the neighbor shook her head. "I'm talking about with anyone here, I just take a room." The owner of the apartment bought, and the room in the communal is leasing. Refugees We, - She added, - from Tajikistan. From us here everyone shakes like from the plague, as if we were infectious. So we are not very talking to us.
Yes, there was little sense from the neighbor. There was a long consuming bypass to collect at least initial information about an elderly woman, ruthlessly killed by a blow to the head of the back.
With the tenants of their house, the deceased Catherine Venediktov really almost did not communicate, but in general, she had a lot of friends and acquaintances. A radical Muscovite, she grown here, graduated from school and university, worked in the historical museum. And everywhere started friends. Of course, today we were alive not all. But still those who could tell about the dead, there were quite a lot.
First of all, the Olszhansky ordered to find those acquaintances who were often among Aniskovets and could at least say that it was kidnapped. Such a person was found - ex-husband Ekaterina Benedictovna Petr Vasilyevich Aniskovets. With the deceased, he divorced fifteen years ago when she was fifty-nine, and he was sixty-two. And all fifteen years he continued to visit the Benedictov Ekaterina, brought flowers and touching small gifts.
You will not be offended if I ask about the reason for your divorce? - Carefully told the investigator, the situation itself appeared very unusual: to divorce in such a migrated age, and not to create new family. Peter Vasilyevich sadly looked at Olshansky.
Fool I was - that's the whole reason. Twisted from the young, thought - here it is, the present, all-consuming, then for what death go. With Katerina divorced. And when it all ended, Katya laughed at me for a long time, he said, I needed a fool to self-confidently, you will be a lesson. She treated me perfectly. I then made a sentence to her many times, but she refused, they say, funny at that age under the crown, and even with a former husband. But my courtship took, did not chase.
It turns out, she forgive you? - clarified the investigator.
I was forgiven, "Aniskovets nodded. - Yes, she was not angry for a long time. You know, she had a sense of humor was just amazing, she knew how to see any trouble with a grin. Never for all the years I have not seen Katerina crying. Believe it? Never. But laughing constantly.
Together with Olshansky, Peter Vasilyevich went to the apartment to the former spouse. On the way, he was accepted several times to suck Validol, and it was clear that he was also afraid to enter the room, where she recently lay the murdered. But at the last moment he still managed to gather and, sighing, gestraned, began to examine the property. By how he was fluent about the pictures of the walls and how confidently opened the drawers of the chest and doors of the cabinets, Olshansky realized that Peter Vasilyevich was well focused in the setting and knows where it should lie.
It seems everything is in place, "Aniskovets spread his hands. "Only one picture disappeared, a small one, miniature, but I don't think that thieves took her.
Why? - Olshansky was alerted.
Yes, it is cheap at all, a penny stands. Why would it become steal if the priceless canvases hang around next to.
Maybe a matter of size, - suggested the investigator. - Little picture is easier to carry.
No, you are not right, "Peter Vasilyevich objected," Take a lot of thumbnails, the father of Katerina, Venedikt Valerevich, was not indifferent to them, he collected all his life. And they are all very expensive, very much, you believe me. But a completely nonsense picture disappeared, her Katya bought from some street masons just a joke for the sake.
What was shown on it?
Flowers and butterflies stylized under Dali. Such painting is now full in Moscow. Mazne, in one word. I think Katerina just gave her to someone. It can not be that someone stole someone cheap.
Well, Peter Vasilyevich, about the picture we will find out. And what about jewels?
All intake. It's just amazing, you know. Katerina had magnificent family decorations: diamonds, emeralds, platinum. One job what is worth! And after all they did not take anything.
It was really very strange. Why then then drawers of the chest turned out to be nominated, things are scattered on the floor, the cabinets are open? After all, we were clearly looking for something. But if not valuable, then what then? And why did the criminal did not take value? There are many of them, they are all in sight, he probably saw them and even trottered. Why didn't you take?
It was necessary to immediately find someone who could inspect the things of Catherine Benedictovna. It is possible that her ex-husband would have noticed a loss, but for some reason it did not promulgate.
Puffy, intercepted by pharmacy elastic notebook Catherine Benedictovna Aniskovets, stuffed with many drop-down leaves and business cards, lay on the table before Anastasia Kamenskaya. The task of the investigator was extremely clear: to find among the familiar killed man who could give a qualified consultation about the values \u200b\u200bthat had had. How briefly, the task was formulated, there was so long and painstaking work on its implementation. To establish all individuals named in this notebook, a lot of time and patience was required. Nastya diligently made up requests and received answers: "Died ...", "the number was transferred to another subscriber ...", "moved ...", "died ...", "died ..."
On the third day she was finally lucky. Art historian, a sign of painting and a collector of Antiques Ivan Elizarovich Byshov was in full health and showed excellent awareness of both the pictures of Aniskovets and her decorations. By the time, when Nastya contacted him, he already knew about the tragic death of his old friend and contradictively sentenced:
My God, my God, I was sure that she would survive us all! Health is excellent. Ah, Katerina, Katerina!
Have you been familiar with Catherine Benedictovna? - asked him Nastya.
All my life, - quickly answered Byshove. - Our fathers were friends, and I almost grew together with Katerina. My father and Venedikt Valerevich were passionate collectors. And the Katya I went different ways. I, what is called, accepted the collection of the Father and continued his case, and Katya did not have taste for collecting, it somehow did not bother her. However, women are not inclined at all ... She slowly sold values \u200b\u200band lived on this money. The pension was her tiny put the state, museum workers were not in honor.
And who inherits her property?
State. Katerina all visited several museums. She has no relatives who wanted to leave all this.
Is there really no relatives? - did not believe Nastya.
No, some, of course, answered Byashov with a rattle voice. - But not the one who could leave the collection. They succeed, stroll. Katya, though he had no taste for collecting, but the value of what she had, understood very well. I mean not only the cash value, but value in the highest sense of the word. For history, for culture. She was very educated.
Diana Soul.
Illusion of sin
I placed the skirt and gracefully sat on the edge of the velor chair. Two clients sitting in front of me on a bright red sofa from the same headset, carnately traced my movements.
Oh, these lords. They fled to look at the wint. Well, they can be understood, boring wives of Puritan morals of local society could kill the libido of any man. My work and talents allowed themselves well. Very good.
First about the price. - Not embarrassed, I dragged into a cigarette in a long mouthpiece. - You have two, it means that the tariff is double.
The lords were overwhelmed and silently laid out two taigi-walle on the coffee table. In my eyes flashed a greedy light. The evening promised to be very hot. I reached out to one of the bags, while postponing the mouthpiece to the side, unleashed thin ribbons and painted, pouring the contents. Tens of pebbles fell on the smooth surface of the table top. Diamonds.
Zharddez inside me climbed, anticipating the value of the profit. Judging by the price of stones, the gentlemen will be walked to Shalite tonight.
I threw out my eyes on the fact that the door. Twenty five years old. I would call him an unquesting junc from behind a pile of fine mustache over the upper lip, but in the eyes there was a nonsense lust, which forced to think about what the honorable Lord wants to make this night with me. It seems his last name Martin and he often flashes in a secular chronicle.
The second guest looked like a full barin. In his mutual eyes, I saw the universal boredom and eternal permissiveness. With fat raised. Such me came to me often and always went satisfied.
So what do the Lord want? - Throwing back on the chair, I said with languid oxygen. - Ready to fulfill any of your fantasy.
We were told, you know how to fulfill any desires. And the night with one of you are sweeter than ten young thirsty Love slaves.
I smiled smiled. Oh, these reviews are from old customers. However, it was worth recognizing that I did not have dissatisfied.
By clicking the fingers, I materialized two standard magical contracts of services in front of the Lords. Those for a long time and carefully read in their lines, but soon signed.
And what wishes do you, Lord Martin? - I playfully stroked the foot under the table of the younger Lord. The satin socks of the shoes gently touched the dense sides and made the wound to lick her lips.
A smile flashed on my face. I wonder what thoughts and poses he is now. In any case, now they will be swore them.
But senior spoke.
It happened that we do not know. - His voice is a little hoarse. "My young friend wants to experience your talent, and I ... I tried everything in my life." In my bed, young and older, busty and not very good. Even a few slaves at a time at my money is not a problem. I am served in any homes of Prica. For them, the honor to delight Sir Carlos. But rumors were intrigued about you. What do you prove your skills?
I slightly bowed to the head of the side and refuel the curl of the hair for the ear, exposing a thin neck. She spent long fingers on a pulsating wreath down, descended to the claysters and stopped in a hollow in the breasts. Lords watched my movements carefully, but still bored. Even when I pulled out for one of the many laces on the dress, they remained indifferent, but I did not count on a lot. It is unlikely that they could surprise such a simple striptease.
I had to get up from the chair and take a step towards younger. He immediately handed his hands to me. His palm lay on me on the buttocks, painfully pulling towards him, the second grabbed the chest.
He did not hurry the skirts on me to do it, but the eldest thing became interested in the sofa and stood up for my back. Sir Carlos reached for the ties of the corset, his hand slid over my back, roughly breaking the dress dresses. Wonder why not remove clothes with me a classic way, I did not. Moreover, the eldest still pulled the skirts and now, tilting me to the younger, attached to the back.
For a moment, I stopped noble gentlemen, looking into the eyes of Lord Martin.
And what else do rumors talk about me? - I whispered.
In the young scum already read thirsty for me, he let my chest let go and engaged in his pants. He was not tolerated to get his unit from there and poke them into face.
What you are piece goods. - His hand slipped on his own trunk, pulling away the gentle skin from the head. - You can come to you only once, the second time you do not provide services.
I playfully stupidly and touched my chubby lips with my fingers.
Yes that's right. And you both agree with this condition?
Sir Carlos was stuck something wrong and grabbed me by hair, pulling the curls to himself and forcing it in the back. They fully mastered the thirst to break into my Lono, so he was no longer going to ceremony with the answers:
We paid you, the harlot! Therefore, work, rubbish. For this night you are our thing and is obliged to fulfill everything we want to do with you!
The younger impatiently laughed and, the lead, tried to open my mouth to master and them.
That's just now it's time to laugh.
Gentlemen, you seem to not fully understood the conditions of our contract. This is not you do what you want. And I fulfill all your most hidden desires.
In the next moment, despite all the seizures, I straightened to full growth. They themselves gave me this power over themselves when they signed a contract. In this case, only the most ugly part of the transaction remained. Kiss.
I pulled the chin at the beginning of Carlos, he dug his lips in his mouth, smyster and conquer, and then repeated the same with the younger. The taste of a nasty kiss wiped the back of the palm, washing at Alu, lipstick from his face.
Two lords, enchanted by my magic, frozen frozen in the middle of the living room. Both with lowered pants and in complete readiness for soyatia with a wonderful Virgin.
And I will tell you why women, gentlemen not satisfy you. - I moved a little to the side of the coffee table, clearing the space on the floor for the future night of passion. Shook her head, looking at the new, just yesterday bought the carpet, they will have to donate, and continued: - And the thing is, Lord Martin and Sir Carlos that you could have confessed yourself to yourself that they are attracting you not adorable Virgin. You didn't just come to me together, well, it's time to fulfill your secret desires.
I carefully seated customers directly on the carpet opposite each other.
Do not be afraid, "I cheered when Martin timidly touched the cheeks of the senior comrade. - You will enjoy each other.
When the venerable lords, losing the remains of shame, thrown on each other, breaking clothes, I turned away and quietly left the living room.
I did not have a desire to watch these playing games, but to wash off their touch and the taste of kiss very much wanted.
I went to the bathroom and threw off a torn dress on the floor. A little later, burning, perhaps even with the carpet. In the backyard. I wonder if the girls from neighboring houses will ask?
I presented their curious faces, and I began to gadko again.
My name is Torany Felz, and I, expressing the cultural language, elite curtains. Bludnica Night, daughter of sin and vice, and in general, such as I curse the priests and hate decent wives.
And I am the last of the illusory succubs. The most those who destroy the church for thousands of years and achieved unprecedented success on this field. Destroyed. All. Well, almost all.
And, probably, it was for what. Too dangerous recognized our talent to manage the desires of people. Sexual desires. Create illusions of their execution, manipulate out other people's consciousness, look into the innermost secrets of the shower.
Oh, how many sinless holy fathers we brought on clean water, showing people that even the ministers of the Lord are not alien to the lowest desires and vices. Hiking in the cells to nuns were only innocent entertainment when the more serious secrets of these "sacrais" were revealed.
The brutal hunt began, we were exterminated by thousands. The blood of my killed sisters could paint the waters of the most turbulent River Prime. And how many innocent human girls suffered, accused of the fact that they are sukkuby. These countless sacrifices were justified by the will of the Lord and the Bent of the country.
But everything is forgotten. One hundred years ago and forgot about us, deciding that our blood was washed away all our sinful crimes.
That's just my grandmother managed to survive. She managed to hide where to look for such as we, too obvious, and where there are powerful patrons that are able to hide with the clergy on equal.
In a public house.
Unlike other workers of this hard case, she did not sleep with customers. Mature illusory knew how to delve pleasure in other ways so that there were no displeased.
Just like me today, Granny saw the deep essence and the most hidden passion of customers. The faults in their consciousness of the cloth of illusion, where the most perverted fantasies were performed, removed all the boundaries and prohibitions that the society and personal fears imposed. For one night, a person could experience those sensual pleasures that were even afraid of thinking or confess to himself.
I placed the skirt and gracefully sat on the edge of the velor chair. Two clients sitting in front of me on a bright red sofa from the same headset, carnately traced my movements.
Oh, these lords. They fled to look at the wint. Well, they can be understood, boring wives of Puritan morals of local society could kill the libido of any man. My work and talents allowed themselves well. Very good.
First about the price. - Not embarrassed, I dragged into a cigarette in a long mouthpiece. - You have two, it means that the tariff is double.
The lords were overwhelmed and silently laid out two taigi-walle on the coffee table. In my eyes flashed a greedy light. The evening promised to be very hot. I reached out to one of the bags, while postponing the mouthpiece to the side, unleashed thin ribbons and painted, pouring the contents. Tens of pebbles fell on the smooth surface of the table top. Diamonds.
Zharddez inside me climbed, anticipating the value of the profit. Judging by the price of stones, the gentlemen will be walked to Shalite tonight.
I threw out my eyes on the fact that the door. Twenty five years old. I would call him an unquesting junc from behind a pile of fine mustache over the upper lip, but in the eyes there was a nonsense lust, which forced to think about what the honorable Lord wants to make this night with me. It seems his last name Martin and he often flashes in a secular chronicle.
The second guest looked like a full barin. In his mutual eyes, I saw the universal boredom and eternal permissiveness. With fat raised. Such me came to me often and always went satisfied.
So what do the Lord want? - Throwing back on the chair, I said with languid oxygen. - Ready to fulfill any of your fantasy.
We were told, you know how to fulfill any desires. And the night with one of you are sweeter than ten young thirsty Love slaves.
I smiled smiled. Oh, these reviews are from old customers. However, it was worth recognizing that I did not have dissatisfied.
By clicking the fingers, I materialized two standard magical contracts of services in front of the Lords. Those for a long time and carefully read in their lines, but soon signed.
And what wishes do you, Lord Martin? - I playfully stroked the foot under the table of the younger Lord. The satin socks of the shoes gently touched the dense sides and made the wound to lick her lips.
A smile flashed on my face. I wonder what thoughts and poses he is now. In any case, now they will be swore them.
But senior spoke.
It happened that we do not know. - His voice is a little hoarse. "My young friend wants to experience your talent, and I ... I tried everything in my life." In my bed, young and older, busty and not very good. Even a few slaves at a time at my money is not a problem. I am served in any homes of Prica. For them, the honor to delight Sir Carlos. But rumors were intrigued about you. What do you prove your skills?
I slightly bowed to the head of the side and refuel the curl of the hair for the ear, exposing a thin neck. She spent long fingers on a pulsating wreath down, descended to the claysters and stopped in a hollow in the breasts. Lords watched my movements carefully, but still bored. Even when I pulled out for one of the many laces on the dress, they remained indifferent, but I did not count on a lot. It is unlikely that they could surprise such a simple striptease.
I had to get up from the chair and take a step towards younger. He immediately handed his hands to me. His palm lay on me on the buttocks, painfully pulling towards him, the second grabbed the chest.
He did not hurry the skirts on me to do it, but the eldest thing became interested in the sofa and stood up for my back. Sir Carlos reached for the ties of the corset, his hand slid over my back, roughly breaking the dress dresses. Wonder why not remove clothes with me a classic way, I did not. Moreover, the eldest still pulled the skirts and now, tilting me to the younger, attached to the back.
For a moment, I stopped noble gentlemen, looking into the eyes of Lord Martin.
And what else do rumors talk about me? - I whispered.
In the young scum already read thirsty for me, he let my chest let go and engaged in his pants. He was not tolerated to get his unit from there and poke them into face.
What you are piece goods. - His hand slipped on his own trunk, pulling away the gentle skin from the head. - You can come to you only once, the second time you do not provide services.
I playfully stupidly and touched my chubby lips with my fingers.
Yes that's right. And you both agree with this condition?
Sir Carlos was stuck something wrong and grabbed me by hair, pulling the curls to himself and forcing it in the back. They fully mastered the thirst to break into my Lono, so he was no longer going to ceremony with the answers:
We paid you, the harlot! Therefore, work, rubbish. For this night you are our thing and is obliged to fulfill everything we want to do with you!
The younger impatiently laughed and, the lead, tried to open my mouth to master and them.
That's just now it's time to laugh.
Gentlemen, you seem to not fully understood the conditions of our contract. This is not you do what you want. And I fulfill all your most hidden desires.
Alexandra Marinina
Ghost music
Golem complex in the domestic version
It is considered - and rightly believed - that in our subconsciousness firmly sits the indestructible complex of fears. The set of them for everyone varies, but certain fears are inherent in all. One of these universal "terrible" complexes is the Golem Complex.
Golem in European folk legends is a mute giant, an unfertility without a soul, but completely obeying the owner's orders. In a word, a sort of medieval version of the robot.
However, simultaneously with the very idea of \u200b\u200bthe possibility of creating an artificial person and fear arose that the creation will come out from under the control of the creator. Fear naturally, immediately found his reflection in the literature. The famous Roman Mary Shelly "Frankenstein" - about it, and "Secrets" of the Hoffman - about this, about it - the novel of Mairinka "Golev", and the play of Karel Chapeca "R.U.R." - also about it. But with clay or iron head, you can still speak somehow. But what to do with modern golems of flesh and blood? What to do with people programmed at the genome not by nature, but by other people? In the West, such golems have long been turned into an obsessive nightmare, the shadow of which gradually, from about the mid-80s, began to enroll on our fatherland. One of the first to translated Romanov's novels Stephen King is "igniting a look" - about the cute little Krozhe Charlie with the congenital abilities of Salamandra alert, because her dad and mom also introduced a new invented drug to Charlin's birth ...
Six years ago, there, in the West, there was a series that made all the most popular fears. In the "secret materials", Charlie, and "Green Mens", and temporary paradoxes are involved. The creators of the series, naturally, could not pass and past the Golem complex, especially now, when the real possibility of cloning and conscious changes in the human genetic program appeared. File No. 110 - "Eva" appeared on the light. In the center of reproductive medicine in San Francisco, Dr. Sally Kendrick, using living women as incubators, brought completely equal superchadd girls with the same mental disabilities - a tendency. As later Mulder and Scully's meticulous agents found out, and Dr. Kendrick herself, and the girls were part of a military government experiment on genetic engineering ...
But if in the literature of the West, the fear of facing artificial change in human nature for years, then in the Russian, as already mentioned, he manifested itself only ten-fifteen years ago. It appeared - and immediately in every second domestic detective or militant of the villain began to use psychotropic weapons and the hordes of the zombie began to protect the gold of the party.
However, repeating Western stories, the home-grown authors did not take into account the peculiarities of the national character, the wonderful Russian ability to penetrate the idea so that in the name of its implementation to post all on their way. They, western, careful, stop at the edge of the abyss, we, desperate, let's go further.
But Alexander Marinina knows very well. Therefore, I think it is also popular that the plots of her books are "grown" in our soil, and even fears inherent in humanity in the marinina detectives turn into our relatives, blood fears. Initrigue was built around the genetic programming in the "illusion of sin". Strange - it would seem why Alexander Marinina takes intrigue, already completely wounded by Western detective detectives? After all, the removal of artificial geniuses and "workshoes", capable of working for 20 hours from 24 - the theme of each fifth novel of this genre. And the "illusion of sin" maybe only tracked with a western sample if not two "but".
First. In no "their" horror "you will not meet a person who would sacrifice the idea of \u200b\u200btheir own children. Alien - please, but your own flesh and blood is holy. Experiments are unacceptable for her, even if Choo does not cause a parent of particularly strong feelings.
Second. In the West, loners have no longer apply. All experiments are well organized, scientifically equipped, enormous money is invested in them, and secrecy provides some very special FBI department. And in our state, which is cracking on all seams, just the time of lonely evil geniuses, counting exclusively on their own strength, and Marinina it takes into account.
She takes into account the fact that the loner - whatever he is in cunning and far-sighted - it is easier to catch and punish the criminals protected by the power of the state. On any sophisticated mind there is a mind stronger and cunning, especially if the invader is an opponent like Nastya Kamenskaya. She loves to solve insoluble tasks ...
Therefore, the criminal is eventually catching and exposing, interrupting too long chain of cruel experiments, in which he dragged many unsuspecting people. Catch, expose, however, the celebrations and joy of Nastya for some reason do not feel ...
Yes, evil seems to be punished - but good anyway does not triumph. Firstly, too much is irreparable, and secondly, there are no guarantees that the same evil will not arise again elsewhere. And this is also a feature of our today's reality, which Marinina "grasped" very accurately. What's next? What else will show us the writer in their dark, but very plausible works? Will wait.
Sergey Kravtsov
When looking at this room with a lie in the middle of a corpse of an old woman, for some reason an association with Dostoevsky has arisen. Murder of the old woman of the member. Although killed, according to preliminary data, the usury did not work and the pawnshop at home was also not satisfied. Moreover, the situation in a large apartment in the "Stalinist" house testified to the prosperity and aristocratic roots of the hosts.
Once in this apartment lived a well-known scientist, Academician Sumagorin, but it was a long time ago. The deceased, Catherine Venediktovna Aniskovets was his daughter. Having been married three times in your life, she changed the name of the surname as many times, but not a place of residence. In this house she lived, perhaps, longer than all of his inhabitants. Only her apartment was separate, the rest had long been turned into communal with constantly changing residents. Some received or bought new housing and left, others drove as a result of exchanges with relatives or spouses. The doors of the apartments were covered with diverse buttons of calls and cards with surnames, and only the door to the apartment of Catherine Venediktovna had one-only call and a beautiful metal plate with the inscription: "Academician V.V.Smagorin".
The forensic medical expert examined the body, the expert criminologist koldoval over the search for traces. The murder clearly pulled on his mercenary, perfect for the purpose of robbery, the apartment was very rich and the unrest reigned terrible in it. Immediately can be seen - here I was looking for something.
- Does the deceased have relatives? - asked the Olshansky investigator at the neighbor, invited as understood.
"I don't know," a young woman in a sporty costume responded uncertainly. "I live here not so long ago, just six months." But I was told that she had no children.
- Who can talk about Aniskovets at least in your home? Who lives here for a long time?
"Oh, I don't know," her head shook her head. "I'm talking about with anyone here, I just take a room." The owner of the apartment bought, and the room in the communal is leasing. Refugees We, - She added, - from Tajikistan. From us here everyone shakes like from the plague, as if we were infectious. So we are not very talking to us.
Yes, there was little sense from the neighbor. There was a long consuming bypass to collect at least initial information about an elderly woman, ruthlessly killed by a blow to the head of the back.
With the tenants of their house, the deceased Catherine Venediktov really almost did not communicate, but in general, she had a lot of friends and acquaintances. A radical Muscovite, she grew here, graduated from school and university, worked in the historical museum. And everywhere started friends. Of course, today we were alive not all. But still those who could tell about the dead, there were quite a lot.
Golem complex in the domestic version
It is considered - and rightly believed - that in our subconsciousness firmly sits the indestructible complex of fears. The set of them for everyone varies, but certain fears are inherent in all. One of these universal "terrible" complexes is the Golem Complex.
Golem in European folk legends is a mute giant, an unfertility without a soul, but completely obeying the owner's orders. In a word, a sort of medieval version of the robot.
However, simultaneously with the very idea of \u200b\u200bthe possibility of creating an artificial person and fear arose that the creation will come out from under the control of the creator. Fear naturally, immediately found his reflection in the literature. The famous Roman Mary Shelly "Frankenstein" - about it, and "Secrets" of the Hoffman - about this, about it - the novel of Mairinka "Golev", and the play of Karel Chapeca "R.U.R." - also about it. But with clay or iron head, you can still speak somehow. But what to do with modern golems of flesh and blood? What to do with people programmed at the genome not by nature, but by other people? In the West, such golems have long been turned into an obsessive nightmare, the shadow of which gradually, from about the mid-80s, began to enroll on our fatherland. One of the first to translated Romanov's novels Stephen King is "igniting a look" - about the cute little Krozhe Charlie with the congenital abilities of Salamandra alert, because her dad and mom also introduced a new invented drug to Charlin's birth ...
Six years ago, there, in the West, there was a series that made all the most popular fears. In the "secret materials", Charlie, and "Green Mens", and temporary paradoxes are involved. The creators of the series, naturally, could not pass and past the Golem complex, especially now, when the real possibility of cloning and conscious changes in the human genetic program appeared. File No. 110 - "Eva" appeared on the light. In the center of reproductive medicine in San Francisco, Dr. Sally Kendrick, using living women as incubators, brought completely equal superchadd girls with the same mental disabilities - a tendency. As later Mulder and Scully's meticulous agents found out, and Dr. Kendrick herself, and the girls were part of a military government experiment on genetic engineering ...
But if in the literature of the West, the fear of facing artificial change in human nature for years, then in the Russian, as already mentioned, he manifested itself only ten-fifteen years ago. It appeared - and immediately in every second domestic detective or militant of the villain began to use psychotropic weapons and the hordes of the zombie began to protect the gold of the party.
However, repeating Western stories, the home-grown authors did not take into account the peculiarities of the national character, the wonderful Russian ability to penetrate the idea so that in the name of its implementation to post all on their way. They, western, careful, stop at the edge of the abyss, we, desperate, let's go further.
But Alexander Marinina knows very well. Therefore, I think it is also popular that the plots of her books are "grown" in our soil, and even fears inherent in humanity in the marinina detectives turn into our relatives, blood fears. Initrigue was built around the genetic programming in the "illusion of sin". Strange - it would seem why Alexander Marinina takes intrigue, already completely wounded by Western detective detectives? After all, the removal of artificial geniuses and "workshoes", capable of working for 20 hours from 24 - the theme of each fifth novel of this genre. And the "illusion of sin" maybe only tracked with a western sample if not two "but".
First. In no "their" horror "you will not meet a person who would sacrifice the idea of \u200b\u200btheir own children. Alien - please, but your own flesh and blood is holy. Experiments are unacceptable for her, even if Choo does not cause a parent of particularly strong feelings.
Second. In the West, loners have no longer apply. All experiments are well organized, scientifically equipped, enormous money is invested in them, and secrecy provides some very special FBI department. And in our state, which is cracking on all seams, just the time of lonely evil geniuses, counting exclusively on their own strength, and Marinina it takes into account.
She takes into account the fact that the loner - whatever he is in cunning and far-sighted - it is easier to catch and punish the criminals protected by the power of the state. On any sophisticated mind there is a mind stronger and cunning, especially if the invader is an opponent like Nastya Kamenskaya. She loves to solve insoluble tasks ...
Therefore, the criminal is eventually catching and exposing, interrupting too long chain of cruel experiments, in which he dragged many unsuspecting people. Catch, expose, however, the celebrations and joy of Nastya for some reason do not feel ...
Yes, evil seems to be punished - but good anyway does not triumph. Firstly, too much is irreparable, and secondly, there are no guarantees that the same evil will not arise again elsewhere. And this is also a feature of our today's reality, which Marinina "grasped" very accurately. What's next? What else will show us the writer in their dark, but very plausible works? Will wait.
Sergey Kravtsov
Chapter 1
When looking at this room with a lie in the middle of a corpse of an old woman, for some reason an association with Dostoevsky has arisen. Murder of the old woman of the member. Although killed, according to preliminary data, the usury did not work and the pawnshop at home was also not satisfied. Moreover, the situation in a large apartment in the "Stalinist" house testified to the prosperity and aristocratic roots of the hosts.
Once in this apartment lived a well-known scientist, Academician Sumagorin, but it was a long time ago. The deceased, Catherine Venediktovna Aniskovets was his daughter. Having been married three times in your life, she changed the name of the surname as many times, but not a place of residence. In this house she lived, perhaps, longer than all of his inhabitants. Only her apartment was separate, the rest had long been turned into communal with constantly changing residents. Some received or bought new housing and left, others drove as a result of exchanges with relatives or spouses. The doors of the apartments were covered with diverse buttons of calls and cards with surnames, and only the door to the apartment of Catherine Venediktovna had one-only call and a beautiful metal plate with the inscription: "Academician V.V.Smagorin".
The forensic medical expert examined the body, the expert criminologist koldoval over the search for traces. The murder clearly pulled on his mercenary, perfect for the purpose of robbery, the apartment was very rich and the unrest reigned terrible in it. Immediately can be seen - here I was looking for something.
- Does the deceased have relatives? - asked the Olshansky investigator at the neighbor, invited as understood.
"I don't know," a young woman in a sporty costume responded uncertainly. "I live here not so long ago, just six months." But I was told that she had no children.
- Who can talk about Aniskovets at least in your home? Who lives here for a long time?
"Oh, I don't know," her head shook her head. "I'm talking about with anyone here, I just take a room." The owner of the apartment bought, and the room in the communal is leasing. Refugees We, - She added, - from Tajikistan. From us here everyone shakes like from the plague, as if we were infectious. So we are not very talking to us.
Yes, there was little sense from the neighbor. There was a long consuming bypass to collect at least initial information about an elderly woman, ruthlessly killed by a blow to the head of the back.
* * *
With the tenants of their house, the deceased Catherine Venediktov really almost did not communicate, but in general, she had a lot of friends and acquaintances. A radical Muscovite, she grew here, graduated from school and university, worked in the historical museum. And everywhere started friends. Of course, today we were alive not all. But still those who could tell about the dead, there were quite a lot.
First of all, the Olszhansky ordered to find those acquaintances who were often among Aniskovets and could at least say that it was kidnapped. Such a person was found - the former husband of Catherine Venediktovna Peter Vasilyevich Aniskovets. With the deceased, he divorced fifteen years ago when she was fifty-nine, and he was sixty-two. And all fifteen years he continued to come to visit the Catherine Wennediktov, brought flowers and touching small gifts.
- You will not be offended if I ask about the reason for your divorce? - Carefully said the investigator, the situation itself was very unusual: to divorce in such a migrated age, and not to create a new family.
Peter Vasilyevich sadly looked at Olshansky.
- Fool I was - that's the whole reason. Twisted from the young, thought - here it is, the present, all-consuming, then for what death go. With Katerina divorced. And when it all ended, Katya laughed for a long time. So, I said, you need, fooling self-confident, will be the lesson. She treated me perfectly. I then made a sentence to her many times, but she refused, they say, funny at that age under the crown, and even with a former husband. But my courtship took, did not chase.
- It turns out, she forgive you? - clarified the investigator.
"Forgave," Aniskovets nodded. - Yes, she was not angry for a long time. You know, she had a sense of humor was just amazing, she knew how to see any trouble with a grin. Never for all the years I have not seen Katerina crying. Believe it? Never. But laughing constantly.
Together with Olshansky, Peter Vasilyevich went to the apartment to the former spouse. On the way, he was accepted several times to suck Validol, and it was clear that he was also afraid to enter the room, where she recently lay the murdered. But at the last moment he still managed to gather and, sighing, gestraned, began to examine the property. By how he was fluent about the pictures of the walls and how confidently opened the drawers of the chest and doors of the cabinets, Olshansky realized that Peter Vasilyevich was well focused in the setting and knows where it should lie.
"It seems everything is in place," Aniskovets spread his hands. "Only one picture disappeared, a small one, miniature, but I don't think that thieves took her.
- Why? - Olshansky was alerted.
- Yes, it is cheap completely, a penny stands. Why would it become steal if the priceless canvases hang around next to.
"Maybe a matter of size," the investigator suggested. - Little picture is easier to carry.
"No, you are wrong," Peter Vasilyevich objected, "Take a lot of thumbnails here, the father of Katerina, Venedikt Valerevich, was not indifferent to them, she collected all his life. And they are all very expensive, very much, you believe me. But a completely nonsense picture disappeared, her Katya bought from some street masons just a joke for the sake.
- What was shown on it?
- Flowers and butterflies, stylized under Dali. Such painting is now full in Moscow. Mazne, in one word. I think Katerina just gave her to someone. It can not be that someone stole someone cheap.
- Well, Peter Vasilyevich, about the picture we will find out. And what about jewels?
- All intake. It's just amazing, you know. Katerina had magnificent family decorations: diamonds, emeralds, platinum. One job what is worth! And after all they did not take anything.
It was really very strange. Why then then drawers of the chest turned out to be nominated, things are scattered on the floor, the cabinets are open? After all, we were clearly looking for something. But if not valuable, then what then? And why did the criminal did not take value? There are many of them, they are all in sight, he probably saw them and even trottered. Why didn't you take?
It was necessary to immediately find someone who could inspect the things of Catherine Venedictovna. It is possible that her ex-husband would have noticed a loss, but for some reason it did not promulgate.
* * *
Puffy, intercepted by pharmacy elastic notebook Catherine Venedictovna Aniskovets, stuffed with many drop-down leaves and business cards, lay on the table before Anastasia Kamenskaya. The task of the investigator was extremely clear: to find among the familiar killed man who could give a qualified consultation about the values \u200b\u200bthat had had. How briefly, the task was formulated, there was so long and painstaking work on its implementation. To establish all individuals named in this notebook, a lot of time and patience was required. Nastya diligently consisted of requests and received answers: "Died ...", "The number was transferred to another subscriber ...", "moved ...", "died ...", "died ..."
On the third day she was finally lucky. Art historian, a sign of painting and a collector of Antiques Ivan Elizarovich Byshov was in full health and showed excellent awareness of both the pictures of Aniskovets and her decorations. By the time, when Nastya contacted him, he already knew about the tragic death of his old friend and contradictively sentenced:
- My God, my God, I was sure that she would survive us all! Health is excellent. Ah, Katerina, Katerina!
- Have you been familiar with Catherine Werenediktovna for a long time? - asked him Nastya.
"All my life," Kashov answered quickly. - Our fathers were friends, and I almost grew together with Katerina. My father and Venedikt Valerevich were passionate collectors. And the Katya I went different ways. I, what is called, accepted the collection of the Father and continued his case, and Katya did not have taste for collecting, it somehow did not bother her. However, women are not inclined at all ... She slowly sold values \u200b\u200band lived on this money. The pension was her tiny put the state, museum workers were not in honor.
- And who inherits her property?
- State. Katerina all visited several museums. She has no relatives who wanted to leave all this.
- Do not really relatives? - did not believe Nastya.
"No, some, of course," said Byashov rattling voice. - But not the one who could leave the collection. They succeed, stroll. Katya, though he had no taste for collecting, but the value of what she had, understood very well. I mean not only the cash value, but value in the highest sense of the word. For history, for culture. She was very educated.
Relatives deprived of inheritance. It is interesting. However, no, not very. If they had a relation to the murder, they would take values. Otherly, the murder itself loses its meaning. Maybe something prevented them? They managed to kill, and the values \u200b\u200bcould not be taken out and could not be reached ... It is necessary to join the dead grip in the neighbors. For what in such a situation can prevent the criminal? Only the appearance on the stairs near the apartment of some people.
- Tell me, Ivan Elizarovich, how was the testament made? I mean, is it done by the description of each thing, which moves to the heir's museum after the death of Aniskovets?
"I understand your question," the old man's collector nodded. - Yes, each thing has been described with the participation of representatives of museums and notaries. In the will, everything is clearly spelled out to whom that is due. Several paintings Katya did not turn on the will, she was going to sell them and live on this money.
- And How? Sell?
- Sure.
- To whom you do not know?
- How to whom? To me. I also sold. They still have.
- And if this money was not enough?
"We talked about it about it," Kashov nodded. - First, the pictures that I bought she, it was very expensive. Maybe you think that I use the old friendship, bought them from Kati about cheap? So no! I gave for them complete valueYou can check it out. She had to have enough money for many years. And secondly, if the money was over, she would have made a change in the testament, excluded something and sold out of hereditary mass again.
- Whether I understood you correctly, "Nastya summed up, - that at the time of the preparation of the will all values \u200b\u200bwere examined by experts confirmed by their authenticity?
- Completely right.
- And how long did it happen?
- Five years ago or six.
- Ivan Elizarovich, and Ekaterina Venediktovna was afraid that they could rob it?
- That's not! - resolutely stated Byshov. - Not a single second.
- And why? "The character is probably the old man smiled for the first time for the first time that they spoke." - Katya was never afraid of nothing. I believed that you still won't go away from destiny. And then, I already told you, she did not particularly value the collection. The mind understood her value, and did not feel the soul. After all, she herself collected her, her work and her money did not invest. Of course, her door stood armored, I still associated her for it. And the diamonds did not wear their diamonds, he said that they were not to her face.
Now at least it becomes clear what to do next. Take an Aniskovets's testament, call art historian experts and compare the values \u200b\u200bdescribed in the will, with the values \u200b\u200bexisting in the apartment. And at the same time and re-establish their authenticity. Because the thief, if he had constant access to the apartment of Catherine Venediktovna, could manage to make copies of some things and paintings and now simply replace the original to the fake. Then it becomes at least clear why Peter Vasilyevich did not discovered any loss.
And the Kashim collector himself became the first candidate of suspects. A person who has constant access to the apartment and knowing the value stored in it. The second suspect was automatically becoming a former husband Aniskovets, who also visited her often and also knew each picture on the walls and every jewelry in the boxes. Nastya felt that the third, fourth and even twenty fifth suspects were already on the way. It is worth digging a little dealer - and they will be apparently invisible. Such things she did not love most. If it turns out that part of the values \u200b\u200bof Catherine Venedictovna replaced, the version of the causes of the murder will remain only one, and it will be necessary to look for those of the huge masses of suspects. It was boring.
And if it turns out that she really did not lose anything, then it will be necessary to invent a completely new version, and not one. That's already much more interesting.
* * *
She was never surprised that he almost does not need a dream. So it was from childhood. Ira was an obedient child and calmly laid into bed on the first word of the mother, not capricious, but it didn't mean that she immediately fell asleep. She was quietly, then imperceptibly plunged into sleep, and at about five in the morning her eyes opened. At the same time, Ira did not feel broken or unwaited. It was just so arranged.
When misfortune happened, she was fourteen. Up to sixteen she was kept in the boarding school, after which she began a completely independent life. The meaning of this life was to earn as possible more money. Money was needed for medicines and products for two sisters and brother. And for the mother, which Ira hated.
She was very helped by the legislative confusion, using which it was possible to work in several places at the same time. At five in the morning, she threw and ran to sweep the sidewalks or raking the snow - depending on the season. On eight soaps, the staircase and stairs in the next sixteen store. In half the eleventh rushed to the clothing market to cut water, hot food and cigarettes merchants. In five, when the market was closed, returned home, went to the store, prepared me, cleaned the apartment, went to the hospital twice a week to the younger, once a month - to the mother. In the evening, from ten to twelve, soap floors and served as a dirty job in the nearby restaurant. She did not ask herself how much it could last. How much power is enough. I just lived like that because there was no other way out. Doctors said that Natasha and Oleke can no longer help, and the little Pavlika can, only for this you need very big money, because you need to do several operations, and they are expensive. On whether you can help your mother, she did not even think. She understood early that it was harmful to think. Several years ago heard on TV that a famous young film acter is seriously ill and for his treatment needs money. From the screen of the TV came to citizens and sponsors: help, let's someone who can, the current account is so ... And the actor died. Ira just thought that if the film actor and his friends had no money for treatment, then where she had one, had nothing to try to collect funds for the treatment of Pavlik. But this is the only time it turned out enough so that she would tell himself once and for all: "There is nothing to think. It is necessary to do things and move forward. It is impossible to stop, you can not be broken, otherwise nothing will happen. "
She was seventeen when she completely reached the Great Shakespeare phrase: "So the cowards make us a meditation, and so determined the natural color is silent under the thoughts of the thought of pale ..."
Now she was twenty. And she moved to his goal, like an automatic with an infinite margin of strength. Getting out of bed when there was not five hours, Ira on tiptoe, so as not to disturb the tenants, I went to the kitchen to put the kettle. Once her big family lived in this apartment: Mother, father, three younger and she herself. Now Ira remained alone and since last year, overcoming doubts and fears, began to pass two rooms, leaving the third, the smallest. While everything, thank God, did, although the excesses, of course, were. But to stand up for himself, Ira Terekhina knew how to two years in the boarding school they taught it a lot.
Dirt reigned in the kitchen - again Shamil brought guests and again did not remove him. Of course, Ira was not afraid of any work and, passing the apartment, warned Shamil: if you wash myself and clean the price, the price is such something, and if I have to be removed for you - then above. The tenant agreed to pay more, but it is impossible to breed such a pigsty! Someone should be a person or not? However, Kavardak in the kitchen Ira saw almost every day and was ready to work honestly to work out an increased fee for the room. Only here in front of the second tenant is uncomfortable - a quiet modest uncle, a pleasant one, not the noise, guests almost never leads, and if he leads, they sit quietly in his room, speak. He doesn't even take the dishes of Ira, brought his own and herself washes her and removes her. In general, he is neat, for him and no cleaning is not necessary, although pays, like a shamil.
It is good that Shamil today lives her last day. In the evening I will leave, says that homeland, like in Moscow, all the times has already redid. And the next candidate in the tenants is already here as here, his week ago, Shamile also led. The guy Ira did not like, but it did not mean anything. She and Shamil did not like, and Musa, who lived to Shamil. However, nothing, alive remained, and the property is intelligent, and the apartment was not buried. And the money they pay good and without deception. It is necessary only to uncle Vladik, just in case, for general security.
Quickly washing, Ira drank tea with a piece of black bread, smeared with cheap sandwiculous margarine, pulled the old training pants and a shirt with long sleeves and went to clean the street. Having opened the door to the janner of the storage room, where brooms, shovels and scrapers were kept, she saw her brooms. It was her brooms that she lovingly selected themselves for the growth and grinding a cutlength for a long time, giving him a form convenient for her little hands.
"That bitches," Ira was angry. - Flash bits. Even the broom smoke. I recognize who did it, the eyes of a dick.
Having removed the street and flushing out the staircase in sixteen fitting, Ira came running home to take a shower and change clothes. At the same time, I decided to call.
"Uncle Vladik, this is Ira, hello," she blurted out in one breath, as if taken at the dawn, the pace of work was distributed to conversations.
"Hello," Vladislav Nikolaevich responded. - How are you?
- Okay. Uncle Vladik, I walked a new tenant.
- Russian?
- Not. The friend of Shamil.
- I understood. Can you drive up today? I agree with the guys, they will look.
- Yeah, after five. Is it good
- It is suitable. Call between five and a half sixth.
- Call. Thank you, Uncle Vladik.
"Not yet on what," Vladislav Nikolaevich grinned into the phone.
* * *
Ira Terekhina was once a neighbor Stasova. In those even times, when Stasov was married to Margarita and lived with her and her daughter lily in Sokolniki. After the divorce, he returned to his one-room apartment In Cheryomushki. The misfortune in the Terekhin family occurred when they lived in the same house, so when Ira had suddenly called him, Stasov did not need long explanations. He has already understood everything.
For the first time Ira called, just to consult. Say, I decided to let the tenants, the money is very necessary, but is afraid. Stasov, the policeman, an operative with twentieth experience, did not advise, discouraged, scared with possible trouble. A young girl, nineteen years old, no one from his relatives and no one to protect if something is wrong. But Irka rested. She did not need the Council to "take the rooms or not to pass." She needed advice, how to protect yourself from these mercies.
Eliminate from these troubles, according to Stasov, it was in principle that it is impossible, but still he gave her a few practical recommendations, the execution of which could reduce the risk. At the same time, he suggested her to preliminarily help references about future tenants. At this, Ira readily agreed and, as it turned out, did absolutely correctly. The first of the candidates for the removals was the criminal in wanted. Stasov brought Iru to Petrovka, showed her a bunch of albums, photographs and orientations, and in two days of the wanted detained, of course, having raised that this fact would not be connected in anyone in whose consciousness with the young dock. At the next candidate of Stas, after all the inspections, "good" gave, just in case, again, warning that in fact, this dangerous, and taking a firm promise from Ira, not to allow the tenas, without putting the stasov.
Now Vladislav in the police no longer worked, received a license of a private detective and headed the Security Service of Cinema Sirius, but his friends on Petrovka and the Ministry of Internal Affairs have left, and friends willingly helped check the tenants of the Terekhina's jilors. It is better to progress in advance than then get the body of an apartment hostess.
* * *
Familiar and friendliers in Catherine Venediktovna Aniskovets was a lot, but that worst of all, all of them had children and grandchildren who could well hear about the values \u200b\u200bstored in the apartment lonely old ladies without special precautions. Yuri Korotkov, together with the investigator, the Olshansky assumed the organization of the examination of paintings and jewelry for the detection of fakes, and Nastya Kamenskaya, as the most implous, received surveys of people who knew the victim.
From these polls, a portrait of a seventy-one-year-old woman who lived a bright life was identified. It is impossible to say that this life is very fun. The groom nineteen years old Kati went to war in forty-first and in forty-third died. Her husband, her husband, an orthopedopian surname, was arrested in the case of pest doctors and died in the chamber, not to withstand the brutal treatment of Vertuhaev. The second husband died in a car accident. On the third, as you know, she had to be divorced because of the passionate love of it to the young charming. Children from Catherine Werenediktov did not really have, here a neighbor-refugee was not mistaken. Something there was a precipitated health on the female line.
A different woman who tragically lost the groom and two husbands is unknown for what sins punished with impudent, could consider their fate of the unfortunate, and life - failed. But only not Ekaterina Venediktovna. A more cheerful, cheerful and friendly person was difficult to even imagine. In a circle of her communication, writers and poets, artists and artists were held throughout his life, it was at all theatrical premieres, venice and poetry evenings, and in last years Not missing a single event that was satisfied with the club veterans of the scene. Although she has never been a scenic worker, many old actors, directors and theatrical artists considered her "their own," because it was once invited to the general rehearsals and it was she who was always sitting on the premieres in the first row, smiling encouraging and squeezing in her hands. Huge bouquets of flowers, which generously gave them when the curtain was lowered. In the intervals between legitimate marriages, Catherine, Venediktovna had several loud novels with people whose names were at the time hearing. These novels ended in different ways, in some cases they threw it, in others - she herself left the first, in the third - lovers parted by mutual agreement under pressure from circumstances, but nothing could wipe the smile from her face and muffle her sleeper. And even when she snapped his handbag on her street with money from the book for the purchase of a new TV, she, taught home, rushed to call his girlfriend and could not express a word from the laughter for a long time.
"You imagine," she finally said, putting a laugh, "I robbed me. Well anecdote!
