give a result?” He turned to Major Cheredkov.
“They didn’t promise much,” Major shrugged vaguely. “When it works out, maybe tomorrow, or maybe the day after tomorrow.”
“I see. Captain Rublev, take care of the knives and knife throwers. It’s strange none of you paid attention to the fact that throwing knives also requires a certain skill, I would even say professionalism. Now almost everyone knows how to shoot, but rare person can throw knives.”
“I think we all paid attention to this,” said Captain Kudinov with a pressure in his voice. “I arranged a meeting with circus director Denis Petrovich Shakura for tomorrow.”
“And you were silent?”
“You demanded to report only about the result.”
“Good,” Colonel answered, turning away from Kudinov, as if he was something very unpleasant. His answer sounded evil and even threatening. Then he turned to Captain Rublev and ordered: “You work with the knives and knife throwers, and meet with the director tomorrow. And you, Captain Kudinov,” still not turning to Andrei Vladimirovich, with a reproach and accusation in his voice, squinting his eyes evilly, Colonel turned to Andrei Vladimirovich, “you,” he paused, apparently thinking something over, then slowly turned to Captain “you’ve done a good job with parents, sisters and neighbors. Check the neighbors at the previous address and, most importantly, check the deceased woman: maybe they wanted to kill her, not Bychkova, and they need Bychkova for fraud. Well, that’s it. Thanks to everybody, you're free to go.”
Colonel Pyotr Danilovich Stasov was called the Novice, although he had not been a beginner. He’s been working in this police department for two years, and two more people came there after him, but the nickname stuck to him, probably because upon his arrival he announced to his subordinates that they would now work in a new way. Although he himself admitted and often complained that he still could not teach his subordinates to work in a new way, there were too many amateur performances in their work, deviations from the rules he established. Everything in the department was very homely: employees called each other by name or strange nicknames; they exchanged information on the go, without waiting for meetings; treated Pyotr Danilovich, their immediate superior, incorrectly. There was no servility in their attitude. On the contrary, there have always been a smile and indulgence slid. Captain Kudinov stood out among the others for his mocking. Colonel was sitting at his desk, holding heavy hands with fingers locked. His gaze rested on the edge of the shabby blue cuff of his shirt. “What did she give me?” He thought of his wife. “It's time to take this shirt to the country house. This bastard”, his thoughts again jumped to Kudinov “always wants to make a fool of me. You see, he made an appointment with the circus director, though he didn’t have my order. What a snob. Cheredkov is no better: he gave the knife to a friend. Who ordered him to do so?” Pyotr Danilovich was stifled by resentment, he wanted everything to come from him and his subordinates to do strictly what he ordered them instead of doing what they wanted. Their job was to carry out his orders and report on the implementation.
Pavel did not like this. He did not think that everything would turn out that way. He planned to quickly do the job, make three thousand dollars and start a business. But there he was, with two misfires! The lady seemed to be bewitched. “That’s okay,” Pavel reassured himself, “there will be no third misfire.”
Pavel learned to throw knives from his grandfather Pavel Evgrafovich Zipunov. Pavel Evgrafovich was once a circus performer and knife thrower. His wife, Bella Nikolaevna, Pavel’s grandmother, assisted him. For fourteen years of work in the arena, Pavel’s grandfather never missed and never wounded his assistant. All fourteen years Pavel Evgrafovich worked with the same knives inherited from his father, also a knife thrower, people's artist Evgraf Panteleimonovich Zipunov. The knives that Pavel got, twenty-four pieces in a large leather case, were presented by the great leader Joseph Stalin. Stalin liked Zipunov: he was accurate like a highlander, respectful like a true citizen, and most importantly, he had a young beautiful wife Tosya who assisted him. Twice the Zipunovs were invited to speak in a narrow circle of people close to the leader. For the third time Stalin himself drove into the circus, gifted Evgraf Panteleimonovich a set of knives in the presence of the whole troupe and took Tosya alone with him, without her husband. The Zipunovs usually kept silent about this, but proudly remembered the gift of the Leader of the Peoples. All knives in the set had black stone handles with ruby inlay in the form of a blood drop. They were packed in a black leather case of three cells, each of which housed a drawer lined with black velvet, where the knives were packed in the amount of four, five and fifteen – this is exactly as much as was required to display Stalin's favorite number.
Two years ago, after the death of Pavel Evgrafovich, grandmother handed the knives to 15-year-old Pavel at the funeral of her husband, and ordered to protect them. “These knives,” his grandmother said, “are very expensive. They brought wealth to your great-grandfather and your grandfather. By the grace of God they will help you raise your capital, Pavel.” Pavel believed those words, and perhaps because of this he easily accepted the offer to kill the lady. He has seen a lot of action films, read enough detective stories and played enough of the bloody computer games, so he began to perceive the murder as an ordinary thing. Not a single thought from Raskolnikov’s torments flashed in his mind. At that moment he was not worried about his ruined life – he was worried about the money, about the loss of time and about the second lost knife. However, Pavel had reassurance (consolation): there were four of them in the box. Two were gone, one had to be used, so he had one more left. He had to sell it. Those knife could not remain in the box alone. That would be a waste. The main thing was not to cheapen. “How much should I ask for? Thought Pavel. “Fifty dollars, one hundred?”
Pavel sold his knife for one hundred and fifty dollars. They easily gave him more than he expected to ask, but his mood did not improve: he thought it was cheap. They gave one hundred and fifty dollars with ease, which means they needed it. Thus, they could have given more. He should have bargained
“I think,” said Katia, playing with the slipper on her foot, “this is some kind of maniac. Or at least a person with a mental disorder. Who would throw knives in the twenty first century! They are the same, with some ominous symbolism. I can’t imagine who it can be. Maybe someone whom she pushed at work. You know Clara is so adherent to her principles! Crazy! It was impossible to agree on anything, even in childhood. She’s an idealist.”
“Did she push many people?”
“Yes, I think many people were compromised.”
“She doesn’t love her sister”, Captain thought of Katia. “Boy, she can be a killer too. The reason is inheritance. The wealth that Yuri Vladimirovich has officially is only a part. The unofficial part is probably much more interesting.”
“Want some more coffee?” asked Katia.
“No, thanks.”
“I also think that this is because of jealousy. Have you seen the neighbor of Leonid Alekseevich? She has a killing look not only at Clara, but even at me. They say she is in love with Leonid.”
“Excuse me, but who said that?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Katia motioned vaguely with her shoulder. “Clara once told me. I asked her that this neighbor next door was looking at me like a beast. So Clara explained to me. Their neighbor on the landing told me the same thing… Although I don’t think she did it. Most likely this is someone among her victims.”
“Victims?”
“I mean, those whom Clara strangled with her checks. Actually, I am surprised that she is still intact, because, as a rule, most crimes are committed because
