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A person who loves the rain. Алексей Аркадьевич МухинЧитать онлайн книгу.

A person who loves the rain - Алексей Аркадьевич Мухин


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Oh, I’m probably not telling you the right things, am I? – No, no, no – Alexei nodded – Continue however you feel comfortable. – He spoiled me often; Mom always scolded him for that. Anyway, that day he shouted – You know what Sergey means to me! And Mom yelled – What about me? What about your daughter? – Don’t bring my daughter into this! – They’ll kill you, Petya. They’ll kill you! – Mom tried for a long time to convince him, but if…

      "They were sitting together, so… it's a diagnosis," she said with a condemning tone in her voice.

      He took the rifle and left.

      – "What kind of rifle?"

      – "A hunting one, he had a permit. Mom cried for a long time then. And later, he disappeared, well… anyway… When can we go to see him?"

      – "Yeah, anytime," Alexey sighed.

      – "I'll go now," she placed her coffee cup on the table and started gathering her things hurriedly.

      – "Excuse me, maybe it's not my business – is something wrong? Are you upset? And why are you with security?" he asked as she walked away.

      – "Yeah… my ex-husband was a businessman, and he left it for me. We got divorced."

      – "Hasn't the era of slavery been abolished?" Alexey joked.

      – "You know how it is," she yelled from the staircase, "divorce doesn't exist in the criminal world. You’re responsible for your ex as well. Everything's fine, but it's better to be safe…"

      – "Got it. Lena, may I see a picture of your father?"

      – "Yes, of course." She flitted around the second floor like a butterfly in her robe. She came back with an album. After flipping through a few pages, she looked surprised.

      Alexey walked up to her and saw the damaged photographs.

      – "I see… Did you do anything with the plumbing recently?"

      – "Yes, but how did you know?" Lena asked in surprise.

      – "Well… can you describe him?"

      – "Sure," she said thoughtfully, "A short man, well, I’d say medium height, in a baseball cap, you couldn't really see his face. He had a broad nose, around 55-60 years old, but sturdy, you know? Stocky. His eyes were small, barely visible. Well… that’s all… Could he have stolen something from me?" She panicked and ran off somewhere. She came back— "No, everything's fine. What's this all about?" she looked at Alexey, puzzled. "Why do I even need security!?"

      He didn’t answer, just said:

      – "Thanks, Lena, let’s go."

      On the way to the morgue, Alexey asked about this Sergey. Of course, Lena had been a child and didn’t remember much, but she said her father had served time with him and had gone on two jobs together. At the morgue, she quickly identified her father by the spiderweb tattoo on his shoulder, his gold tooth, and the ring found with him.

      She felt nauseous, and Alexey had to take her out into the hallway.

      – "Oh! He’s shown up already! The meeting place can’t be changed! How are you here?" Filatov walked up to him.

      – "We’re here for an identification," Alexey pointed at Lena.

      – "Got it, alright."

      Filatov had one irreplaceable quality – he could snap anyone out of their state quickly, whether it was his charm, his ability to tell a joke on any topic, or his healthy cynicism. This time, too, he quickly got Lena back on her feet.

      The address Lena gave, where her father’s friend Sergey lived, wasn’t very precise, but that wasn’t surprising. After sending the girl back in the car, Alexey said goodbye to Filatov and headed to another address.

      – "Misha, keep an eye on the kids, I’m exhausted in the kitchen, and the guests will be here soon," Nastya adjusted her apron and rushed back to the stove.

      – "Alright, I’m coming," Mikhail, a man around 35 in blue jeans and a white sweater, got up from the couch and went to watch their rambunctious kids. The doorbell rang.

      – "Misha, someone’s at the door, it's probably Ksyusha with her husband. Go answer it."

      – "I’m coming," Mikhail grumbled and walked to the door. He looked through the peephole.

      A man in a prosecutor's uniform stood there, holding a folder.

      – Yes?

      – My name is Alexey Martynov, I'm a senior investigator from the prosecutor's office… – with these words, he pulled out his ID.

      – Come in – invited Mikhail.

      – Is it Ksyusha? – shouted his wife from the kitchen.

      – No, honey… It's the prosecutor's office!

      – Oh my God! – a slender woman, around 40, with thick hair tucked under a scarf, appeared before Alexey. She wiped her hands on a towel and approached, eyeing the unexpected guest.

      – Alexey Martynov.

      – Anastasia… Sergeyevna – she held her gaze on him. She had large, expressive brown eyes, a well-proportioned face, and a slim figure. Beneath her apron was a fashionable dress, and she wore high-heeled shoes.

      Alexey said he had an important message and suggested they sit down. They went to the next room, but Mikhail soon left as the children were making more and more noise.

      – This is unexpected… – she was shocked by the news of the discovery and threw the towel onto a chair.

      – Anastasia Sergeyevna…

      – Just call me Nastya – she interrupted him.

      – Alright. Nastya, you'll need to come for an identification, but I'd like to ask a few questions to clarify the cause of his death.

      – Oh, Alexey… Sorry, what’s your patronymic?

      – I respond to anything…

      She appreciated the joke, and at that moment, it was somehow timely, given that this news came just before the arrival of guests… it was necessary to soften the blow somehow.

      – Alexey, he wasn’t a pleasant person, he was friends with some Peter… Skrinnik, I think his surname was, but I sometimes talk to his daughter, we call each other, though she doesn’t visit us, we didn’t become friends. Our fathers were in prison together.

      – I’ve been to her place, and we found her father too…

      – Ah! Well, then there’s nothing more to discuss, right? I’m the daughter from his first marriage, and soon after, Dad met another woman and decided to leave my mother. I must say she was a good person, and Dad changed for the better with her… You know, Dad was like a beast, but she tamed the beast, and he looked at her like a miracle… In short, my dad lost his head and… fell in love. But that lady… she couldn’t forget her old love, and he suspected she was running back to him… I have her photo somewhere, just to make things clearer.

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