Penny Criminal Case. Alexander Cherenov

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Название Penny Criminal Case
Автор произведения Alexander Cherenov
Жанр Современные детективы
Серия
Издательство Современные детективы
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9785449689573



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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.

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      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.”

      This time, the lieutenant colonel did not pick up the hose, but the interrogation report, which he waved in front of the person under investigation.

      “What do you say?”

      Instead of answering, Petin tried to take his eyes off – along with his head – from the lieutenant colonel, but his head – along with his look – was immediately and without unnecessary courtesy returned by captain to the place.

      “Should I repeat the question?” Petrov smiled “promisingly”.

      This time Petin was not silent for long – five seconds, not more.

      “Yes, son… he came up with some nonsense… And I told him that I would deal with this bitch… so as not to offend my son… Already there was no strength to endure her arrogant antics! And her parents are the same bastards!”

      “Well, and how: did you deal with this bitch?” Petrov leaned even lower over him.

      “I would do it,” Petin grinned grimly, “but I was overtaken by some kind person…”

      “And what kind of a policeman was at your house?” Starkov connected “contrary”. “On the day, when you decided to deal with Kotova?”

      Trying to remember, Petin wrinkled his forehead and honestly “plunged into himself”.

      “A hell knows! I saw him for the first time. A lot of your ‘cops’ visited me: I am tagged, where to go! Especially our local police inspector…