Gray eyes tried to hide from direct light
with cheap pink sunglasses that Vira got in Avrora the other day. She took them off, looking irritated, and then noticed a child sitting next to her on the bus.— You like those?
A child nodded.
— Then take it, — She placed glasses in a small hand. — I was drunk buying them anyway.
Little girl lit up with happiness and gratitude.
A bus had a route full of villages in the Kharkiv region, through roads that were practically a bunch of holes. Vira’s final destination was her grandmother’s small mansion. When she was out of money, she always called Granny for help, but now things were different. Instead of just sending it on her card, she insisted that Vira come to live with her so she can watch carefully where her providing go. And also, as Vira suspected, to make sure she’s writing something new. It had been a year since her last book was published, and it took her 4 months to spend all of the royalties. Vira Faden was feeding her Gran that she was working on something new for the past 8 months, but the lies came to light – as they usually do. And so the bus came to a stop.
— Vira, honey, how was your ride? — Missis Natalena hugged her granddaughter.
— Shitty, as always.
— And you’re sharp with your tongue, as always.
— That’s required from a writer.
They came inside alone – a big old house was empty and dark. Tall walls made Vira feel tiny and unimportant, dust and cold gave shivers.
— Where are your housekeepers?
— They’re free for the weekends, until electricity comes back on Monday. Our generator broke yesterday. But together we can do the chores perfectly fine for a couple of days.
Annoyed to her stomach, but silent, Vira went to her room.
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— Wake up, busy-body! The sun is up, and so should you. — Natalena opened the curtains, bringing light to the room. Vira groaned from under a blanket:
— What the hell made you think I’ll be on my legs so early?
— Bucks. You sure love spending a lot, especially on books and bars.
Quite made it to the room. Natalena was packing some sheets near the sofa, and then continued talking:
— I know you need it, so I’ll give you some – but only under my conditions. And one of them is waking up every morning with the rooster’s crows.
— Why am I unsurprised?
Soon, they came to the kitchen for a cold breakfast. As relatives were eating, the talk was not much – not after it became even more tense between them. After finishing, Vira was sent to the porch to breathe the morning wind. An objection, of course, was not considered. And as she was walking around watching bees working and flowers blooming, she sensed a stink behind a willow tree. When she approached it, a cry went out of her throat, making every still sleeping soul wake up.
******************************************************************************************************************************************************
— Is it some kind of a joke?
— Is a violent death joke to you, officer?
— Miss Faden, I wouldn’t recommend offending a police worker.
When Vira wanted to come back with a response, crying Natalena stopped her by the hand.
— What do you say, doc? — She asked instead.
— It was not a natural death. It’s a food poisoning. Poor Marusia could have lived for at least 5 more years, — a vet responded.
Natalena burst into tears even more.
— We are truly sorry for your loss, — an officer sarcastically said, — but we have more important stuff to do than dealing with a dead cat.
— You need to arrest the killer! — Vira shouted in disgust. Her eyes were two caramel flames.
— Call us when you have proof of who this killer is, then we’ll talk differently.
And then the police left, listening to a lot of unchristian words being spat on their backs. A vet left after them, too, not being able to help more than she already did.
Two Fadens: older and younger, sat on the porch silently, and didn’t feel the time passing. Then Natalena broke the soundlessness:
— You write detectives.
— No shit, am I?
— Get your ass up and investigate, young girl. It’s your case now.
Vira wanted to laugh until she noticed how swollen and red her grandma’s eyes were.
— Ok then. I’ll do it.
******************************************************************************************************************************************************
“What was I thinking?!” — a girl whispered to herself while hiding on a tree, watching the first suspect—Leleka. 80-year-old known for violent behavior towards animals, especially dogs. She watched carefully as he took an axe in his right, crusty hand, approached a duck, took it by the neck, and butchered it, spitting blood all over his once white shirt. Vira let out a gasp, instantly understanding her mistake and shaking in fear. Leleka turned his head sharply toward a tree:
— Who is there?! — One of his eyes looked like powder was on it; the other was fine, but looked in a different direction. He made quite an impression.
— Do you want me to kill you, or why else would you set a foot on my territory?! — he continued, but, luckily, spoke headed to another trajectory. He was blind enough not to see her.
Vira waited for the right moment and then vanished from her post. She fell loudly on her way, but was not caught by anyone.
******************************************************************************************************************************************************
After visiting a bathroom and eating a sandwich, she went to her second suspect, Mykola. His and Leleka’s houses were the only ones that were within walking distance; others were closer to the city. Three hermits, as people gossiped. Mykola was a 50-year-old with a gorgeous dark mustache (that he probably colored himself). He had a small garden and a minimalistic one-floor house. He didn’t live here on workdays but was always here on weekends - even when sick. The cat was deprived of life on Saturday night. And even though Mykola had a warm, charismatic personality, he’s the only one with a proper motivation—Marusia pissed all over his garden for no particular reason.
When Vira approached his house, she noticed that there was not his usual car, but an unknown one. Near it stood a tall skinny man with a long beard, changing wheels. She recognized in him a local priest whom Vira loved to mock as a kid.
— Good day, Father Myhailo!
— Blessings, child! — he stopped his work and smiled. — Are you visiting your grandmother?
— Something like that. Do you know where I can find Mykola?
— He’s anxiously working in his garden to catch up on missed time.
— Huh?
— ... Do you promise not to tell anyone?
— Sure thing, — “except for police and poor granny,” the detective thought.
— You know how proud he is about being here every single weekend for already 30 years straight?
— Yeah, he doesn’t shut up about that.
— But after Nina’s wedding on Friday, I spoke him out of going home at night. We were in Odesa, you know.
— And it’s hard not to take advice from a priest, isn't it?
— I suppose so. — He smiled a little. — In the morning, he found out that his car is broken, and fixing it will take at least a week. Do you imagine his panic? That was horrible.
Vira let him continue speaking.
— So I drove him myself. We arrived just 2 hours ago.
— Are you not expected at a church today?
— I took time off for Odesa.
— Reasonable.
— Sure is.
******************************************************************************************************************************************************
Vira sat resting her face on a hand and silently watched a single candle burn on a kitchen table. The sun had already set, and outside was twilight. Natalena put two hot cups of tea and sat beside her.
— How?
— I boiled some water on candles.
Vira took it, but didn’t drink.
— How is your investigation going?
— Well...
And she told her about Leleka, a duck and a tree, then about Mykola with a priest in Odesa; at some point, Vira stood up and started walking back and forth; her voice was getting louder with emotions of despair raised and raised. Natalena watched and lightly smiled.
— You should write about it.
— But I have no idea who the killer is.
— Isn’t it obvious? — Grandma raised her brows. — It’s clearly Leleka. That old bastard...
— But what about reasons? He had no motivation to do so. Those dogs he killed were eating his ducks; our Marusia did no such thing.
After a weird pause, watching somewhere deep in her mind, Natalena said:
— He had a reason. He used to be in love with me, you know. That’s also why he built his parody of a house so close.
Vira smiled. The flame on the table was near its end.
— He actually couldn’t kill Marusia. But it’s interesting that you’re so sure about it. — She sat on her chair again.
— Why so? — Natalena took her hands off the table, leaving her cup alone.
— Because a bus driver told me Leleka arrived here after the murder was committed.
The candle went out, and the pieces started to puzzle.
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