Detective

Nine New Chapters

XII Sweet Old flame by Ilia Nizhnik
(Gabriel - a cook from the school cafeteria and his ex)
- Hello! May I have a couple of cookies with condensed milk?
- Good afternoon, Mr. I’m sorry, but we don’t have them anymore, only tomorrow morning.
- Well, science needs calories, isn’t it?
- What do you mean?
- Who usually takes this cookies?
- Hm, strange question, why are you interested in that?
- Well, nothing, just remembered that my friend loved them.
- Loved? My condolences.
- And mine to you.
- What?
- Michael. Yesterday he was found dead with scissors in his throat and cookies on his bedside table. Someone very often brought them to him. They are very similar to those that I have seen here before. - Weird, isn't it?
Michael? My Michael? No, it can not be the truth, maybe you made a mistake?
With your permission, I will continue. In addition, I managed to find out that your sister, who visited your yesterday, lost somewhere a bag with manicure tools. Not here, accidentally?
I don’t know anything about that and my working day is over, I need to go, my bus leaves in 20 minutes. And, you know what, I don`t know who you are, but you are a liar, Michael is alive and we are going to have an alumni meeting this evening, I need some time to prepare. Good bye!
Nice bag, the tools would fit perfectly.
Bye-bye!
God bye! See you soon!

XIII Onlooker by Sonya Borsch 
Tuesday 4:36 p.m.
" High clouds. It seems it will rain soon."
Tuesday 5:18 p.m.
" The subject is returned from work in due time. Get wet without an umbrella. While searching for the key to get into his flat scattered some papers. It looks like something important was in it."
Tuesday 6:30 p.m.
" The subject at the desk in the cabinet is sorting out previously scattered papers. It seems he is tense. A note for the future: check the contents of the papers. Something isn't clean here."
Tuesday 9:53 p.m.
"A suspicious man in a hat is knocking on the door to the subject. No, this is just the principal. But at such a time ... The subject let the director into the apartment with obvious disbelief. He looked around before closing the door. I was almost noticed."
Wednesday 0:08 a.m.
"The director is in a hurry to leave the subject's apartment. The light is still on. The cabinet windows are curtained."
Wednesday 4:38 a.m.
"Some lady, obviously not local, hanging around. High heels; fashionable clothes. Trying to break open the door to the subject's apartment. Unsuccessfully."
Wednesday 5:00 a.m.
"The lady turned off under the cabinet window. I can't look at the papers yet."
Wednesday 5:13 a.m.
"Some weird noise. Broken glass?"
Wednesday 5:17 a.m.
"A man in a good suit came out of a neighboring apartment. His face wasn't visible. Upon seeing the sleeping beauty, he bent down and put something in her hand. Suspiciously."
Wednesday 8:42 a.m.
"The lady began to come to life. The subject is late for work. The light in the office is still on."
Wednesday 9:14 a.m.
"The lady calls somebody with the phone in horror. Something is happening. The subject is still not visible."
Wednesday 9:20 a.m.
" A policemen gathered under the windows. They found bloodied scissors in the lady's hand. They took her to the police station. They cordoned off her place of stay."

XIV Vera Baklanova
[Submitted to the student counsellor via an anonymous note]
I wasn’t invited to his funeral, but I went anyway. Not to pay my respects. Not to listen to all the solemn speeches his friends and family gave or to the pretentious monologue principal Harding delivered. Not to cry, not to mourn, not to marvel at the ceremony. I came here to see with my own eyes that my rapist was dead.
The day school cancelled in the middle of finals week, rumours of a terrible tragedy started spreading around. A beloved faculty member, respected by both colleagues and students, a gory massacre with walls and windows covered with blood, floor to ceiling… A women’s bathroom essential -- the murder weapon. How ironic.
When I think about him, I don’t picture the gruesome details, savoured by the media for weeks to come. Instead, I can’t shake the image of sweaty palms, slithering under my skirt. The way he held me down like an animal for slaughter. The bruises might fade, but I can never erase the touch of his fingers in places of my body that weren’t supposed to be even seen by strangers. Sacred places you reserve for the most intimate way of human contact.
Instead of his jokes from math class, I remember missing cheer practice, week after week. Until, eventually, being kicked out from the team. I remember failing my classes because nothing mattered anymore. Who cares about stupid ‘A’s and ‘B’s, when they’re not even sure if they want to stay alive? I remember giving up mathletes, cancelling my piano lessons.
I don’t remember the moment I stopped reading books or watching movies, or going out. I don’t remember the exact day it all started to feel useless, the day my free time reduced to drinking tea and staring blankly at the wall. The day I finally managed to numb the pain.
I don’t know who did it, but I’d really like to meet them.

XV Investigation by Iryna Pavlyshche 
- Your name?
- I am Lark Smith, the director of the orphanage that is nearby the house of the victim.
- Did you know the victim?
- Of course, no.  How can I know him? I saw him only several times when he came to the orphanage.
- How do you think why he came to the orphanage?
-I don't know. I didn't ask my colleagues about it?
-I know that you asked them. What is more, they said that you was looking for an information about the victim.
-Uhmmmm,  yes I lied to you. But I just wanted to know to whom he came.  As I was informed, the victim went to the little girl - Margaret. She is 3 years old.  Also,  as we know from the documents, she is diabled orphan. I am a director, that is why, I should know about every person who came to children.
-Yeah,  it is ok. You said that you didn't know the victim, isn't it?
-Yes,  I didn't know him. (Said the director and start fast blinking)
-Don't lie to me! We had found checks thank to which we understood the the victim transferred a large amount of money to your account. How do you explain it?
-I don't know what money do you mean. I am honest with you.
-We are sure that you blackmailed the victim. You knew that girl is his daughter.  You promised him to make a document about adopting.
-No, it was money for the orphanage! The victim was that man who left the girl because she was disabled one.  And he wanted to wash away his guilt.  Yes, I used tge situation.  But he should pay for his terrible act.
-You was not satisfied of the amount of money, took the manicure scissors of your daughter and killed him. Your daughter said to us that her scissors disappeared. Or maybe do you cover her?  Where is she now?  Did you hide her?
-I don't know where she is.
-Look at  your shirt!  There are blood spots on it. Did you try to hide or you just help your daughter to do it?
The director became pail,  but didn't to breathe a word.

XVI The Postman by Yaroslava Perekhozhuk
Alex Isaak was the former best friend of Michael. They were as brothers in the school. But there was one problem. The problem had golden hair and blue eyes. The problem had narrow waist and white skin. This problem broke their relationship. Michael married to that problem, became a successful teacher and popular among children. And Alex started drinking and working as a postman. Every morning he went to Michael’s door to give him the magazine. But not yesterday. Alex said that he was busy at home, he also had pneumonia, so he just had laying on the couch all day.

XVII It was Her by Nataliia Zubchenko
Then I came to him and said: “Michael, cheer up! I will teach you son language!”, -  and now our sons are friends and we are too. Also we are college at school! But he had more works there because of more lessons. Head teacher likes him and gave good pupils.
- I was going to return him books I borrowed, but I couldn’t.
- Honey, can you go with Met to the Michael today? I have a plans for this evening.
- Sure, I wanted to give him some books he asked.
- Yes, honey, what do you want? I’m busy with Helen, sat quickly.
- Mary, Michael is killed.
In half an hour Mary was in Michael’s flat.
- Where is a Mat and Ben?
- I commanded them to go our home with baby sitter.
- What happened here?
- Mary, can I know? There was a lot of blood everywhere. It seems to him was moving through the room. Police said that he was killed with manicure scissors.
- Oh… but look, your books.  There is a blood on them. Why?
- Really. Maybe the police officer took something and blood dropped on them.
- Was Michael’s wife here?
- Yes. She was at kitchen and listened to music with headphones. You know,
- I think it was her…

XVIII Science is Cruel too by Pavlo Sereda
In 2000th Michael was young and worked in a Scientific Institute on an Applied Math department. There were typical boring days of scientists. He didn’t do any interesting work there. And he was disappointed of this work, because he expected a lot of interesting projects, and got a lot of bureaucracy work instead. It went on until he got acquainted with a scientist from his department.  His name is Robert. They started to spend more time together and once Robert told Michael about theory on what he was working. Michael took a big interest in learning that theory, because that was one of a millennium problem, tasks that was the hardest of all mathematical unsolved tasks. And they started to work together on solving of this task. Other elder colleges thought that they behaved like children. So mad was that idea.
They worked on that solution about 5 years and had many results, but hadn’t whole solution on task. That had a bad effect on their friendship, so much time and effort was spent and no result. Robert began to lose faith in that idea but Michael believed that they would be able solve it, he noticed one way of solution that Robert wrote. One day they stopped to work together. Robert gave up thinking about that task, and Michael continued working on that task using Robert’s groundwork of that theory.
One year later Michael solved this theory. He won many awards and one grant in one million dollars that was sponsored by billionaire. Robert had different feelings, in one hand, he was excited of Michael’s work, and on the other hand, he was furious and jealous, because he noticed his own groundwork that Michael used in solving and Michael take no reference to Robert’s work. After that Robert finished to work in Institute because of not having motivation to research. That was Robert’s scientific dream to solve that theory.

XIXPoor Mike by Anastasiia Zaruba
When they found Mike, he was still sitting in the chair. Scissors protruded from his throat. It happened on the third day after his death, and the man lost much of his attractiveness: turned blue, purple spots appeared on his face and he became swollen.
Poor Mike
Mike, a math teacher, was still young. At forty-two, a man can not only change jobs and become successful, but also marry and have children. A fine age to reach heights, but its height has become scissors in the throat.
He hated his work and stupid children who are unable to memorize theorems and axioms. Mike, once a promising mathematician, quarreled with the school principal and pointedly lowered his grades. So he tried to feel his power.
Generally, you can't say that Mike was unlucky. He was too lazy to be lucky, so he didn't become a famous mathematician at that time, he divorced his wife, and probably died of it.
He was lucky only once, and then more by mistake. Mike, passionate about archeology, found an artifact. But he could not tell anyone.
Poor Mike
To investigate the death of Mike took Mr. Smith, a detective from Scotland Yard. He, being a good detective, revealed more than one crime, and was determined to quickly find Michael's killer. For this, he gave a confrontation.
In the gray room of the interrogation room, three people are sitting at the table: Mike's ex-wife, Brianna, his superiors, the school director Mr. Jones and his pupil, William.
Another witness, gardener Bill, could not come, but his fault was very unlikely and the detective decided to conduct an interrogation without him.
So, gentlemen, every one of you could have killed, - Mr. Smith began, sitting down opposite the presiding. - The purpose of our conversation is to determine who exactly.
Mr. Smith lit a cigarette, holding an ashtray to himself. He turned to Brianna.
Mrs. Shepard, where were you the night your husband died, Mike?”
Mrs. Shepard, the little brunette, shivered, and lay down in the chair.
Houses.
Can anyone confirm this?
The woman shuddered once more and seemed to be smaller.
My dog, - she said foolishly.
Good, - the detective made a note in his notebook and turned to the director of the school where Michael worked. - Mr. Jones, so you say you knew Mrs. Shepard before she divorced?
Brianna became even more frightened. Mr. Jones under the table took her hand.
Yes, Mike introduced us a couple of years ago.
The man’s gesture didn’t hide from the detective’s gaze.
Are you lovers? - Mr. Smith put out a cigarette, exhaling smoke in the faces of the suspects.
Mrs. Shepard blushed and straightened her hand. Mr. Jones frowned.
Even so, what's wrong with that? Brianna has long been divorced.
Well, yes, - the detective nodded, and turned to the last witness, Michael's apprentice, William. - Young man, did you hate your teacher?
William pouted his lips, just like a girl, and said:
He's a lousy man.
William was silent and there was a pause. Detective Smith stared thoughtfully at the smoke of a cigarette. In his head appeared the mystery of the mysterious death of Michael, the lousy husband and teacher of mathematics.
Having smoked three more cigarettes and coughing, he spoke:
It is absolutely clear that Mr. Michael Taylor was murdered. Scissors, taken from his throat - a clear proof of that. But who did it? - the detective stood up and began to walk from side to side in a small room. - I used to think that one of you was to blame. But, obviously, you have no motive. Mike was obviously a terrible and quarrelsome man, but he didn't bother anyone. William, - he glanced at the guy, - is too young and indecisive for such a cruel murder. - And you, Mrs. Shepard, have long been in contact with Mr. Jones, and were with him that evening. Perhaps the dog was with you too. You and your lover have no claims to Mike.
He paused, and looked straight at the members. Their faces were surprised.
But who then killed Mike, Mr. Smith? - asked Brianna.
Obviously a third party, Mrs.
The principal of the school where Mike worked, Mr. Johnson, was indignant:
Is this how Scotland Yard works? - And you no longer have suspects?
They will, -  the detective answered resolutely and left the room.
William, Brianna and Mr. Jones looked at each other in bewilderment. Something in what was happening seemed to them wrong.
So who killed Mr. Taylor? - asked William.
Gardener! - Mr. Jones answered indignantly and, giving his hand to Brianna, left.
Indeed, he had a gardener, - muttered William.
Obviously, the gardener is to blame for every murder in England ...

XX Eleanor By Julia Lutsenko
No matter how hard she tried, she would never forgive him.
While studying at school, Michael went to a club of history fans. They assembled each Wednesday in the school library. It was there he met Eleanor.  It all started from the usual seat next to each other at the canteen, and then it were meetings after school, and going on prom together. What a great pleasure to find your soulmate in such a young age! Nevertheless, what a great disappointment to find your beloved person in one bed with you elder sister. By that time, they were dating for ten years and planned to get marry. Eleanor could not believe that few month later after this accident Michael asked her sister to become his wife. It was stab in the back. If you cannot hate your own sister, you can loathe the person who betrayed you. That was the only thing she could do.
However, when she found out that they had divorced, the hostility grew into hatred. Eleanor hoped to justify Michael's behavior as a true love to her sister, but it didn`t work out. She was trying to get in touch with Michael, but her but her psychiatrist stubbornly did not recommend doing it. 
Talking about last few days before Michael was murdered, nobody can tell where Eleanor was. However, who can say where a lonely woman is? She did not show up to the work for 3 days (but she is said to be like that). The last person who saw her is a psychiatrist. He asserted that she was over excited, her nails were too long, and she said the phrase that worried him: «Michael is the one who killed me a long time ago».