Алла Краснова – Who killed stand-up comedian Lilya Kolyuki (страница 3)

We wanted to go to Lily Kolyuki’s apartment to collect as much information as possible about her, then we were going to meet with her aunt, Tamara Isaakovna Manulova. It is noteworthy that Lily herself had the same last name, and Kolyuki was her stage name.

“I made coffee,” Delilah said, standing with a mug of black coffee that was still steaming. – I did it to you too. Do you like cappuccino?

“Yes, thank you,” I told her, still lying in bed. I can’t say that it was awkward for me to appear in a lying position in front of a colleague, but still an element of awkwardness remained. And only she behaved relaxed.

“I’ll get dressed and go out now,” I said.

She nodded.

There were no doors to my room initially, no one expected that my colleagues would spend the night with me. I quickly took a shower and got ready. But then Delilah shocked me with another piece of news:

– While you were in the shower, Artem Tomich called me, well, the one from the forensic department, remember him?

“I remember,” I answered.

– Well, in Lily Kolyuka’s apartment they found traces of blood on the desk, a little, and a farewell note. And while we won’t be able to get into her apartment, investigative actions are ongoing there.

– What’s in the note? – I asked.

Delilah came up to me and showed me a photograph of a piece of paper on which two strange lines were written, and it could not be said that it was a coherent text, because each of the lines seemed to live its own life.

We were confused, not knowing what to do next. But they decided to call her aunt anyway.

– We need to talk to her aunt, – suggested Dalila. – We’ll also ask where else Lilya has been, besides her apartment.

– Excellent idea, – I answered.

The conversation with Lilya Kolyuki’s aunt didn’t last long, although we managed to get through to her on the first try. She wasn’t ready to meet us, saying that she was leaving for another city on business right now. She answered briefly and wasn’t in the mood to keep up the conversation, as if we weren’t talking about her niece, whom she was looking for, but about a stranger.

– Lilya only owned one apartment, where she lived? – asked Dalila.

– Yes, only this one, – answered Tamara Isaakovna.

– Did she often visit her relatives? – asked Dalila.

– She hasn’t been there in the last ten years. She only talked to me sometimes, and she hasn’t talked to her mother for a long time. “I’ve already answered these questions,” Lili’s aunt muttered discontentedly.

“Ask if there is a dacha, a country house or something like that,” I quietly said to Dalila.

“Does she have a country house or a dacha?” Dalila asked, prompted by me.

“Yes,” her aunt answered after a pause. “Only no one goes there. They are her grandmothers,” answered Tamara Isaakovna.

The conversation with her aunt was difficult, and when it ended, Dalila breathed a sigh of relief.

“What a difficult person!” Dalila said about her. And nevertheless, as a result of this dialogue, we had the address of the dacha where Lilya Kolyuki, or rather Liliya Manulova, could come.

This house, as we managed to find out, belonged to her grandmother, with whom she lived. Four years ago, her grandmother died and bequeathed her apartment to her.The country house was divided between her and her half-brother, who lived with her mother and stepfather in another apartment. The country house, according to her aunt, was abandoned and no one needed. The land on which it was located was also not of particular value. And yet, Delilah and I decided to go there, since we could not get into her apartment for several more days.

***

Delilah was driving, which made me happy because I needed to think. And I would have succeeded if Delilah had not kept interjecting her questions into my thoughtful silence.

– I wonder what we want to see there? she asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered after a pause. – There are some things that you just have to do if you have the desire for it.

– I wonder if we have it? – Delilah asked.

– What?

– Pursuit.

I waved my hand casually, ending the topic.

– Better ask if we’ll get there, after all it’s March, snowdrifts and snow, – I said.

– We’ll get there, I have a jeep, after all, – smiled Delilah.

It seemed to me that she wanted to show herself off as a really cool driver, but I didn’t want to see it, much less participate in it. So I asked her not to “drive recklessly” and not even try to drive where it was impossible to drive because of the snowdrifts.

– What do you think of her “farewell” note? – I asked.

– I don’t know. It’s kind of strange, – answered Delilah, confirming my thoughts.

– That’s true.

Two strange lines, written on a torn piece of paper and left on her desk:

“This world is like a ball filled with reinforced concrete.

It haunts me.”

It was hard to understand from this note what she was writing about and who was stalking her. Since Lilya Kolyuki was a stand-up comedian, she could well have written something else, for example, poetry or something similar. These are just two lines that hardly qualify as a farewell note, but since Lilya Kolyuki had disappeared, all versions were considered.

***

Surprisingly, we arrived safely, without getting stuck or stuck anywhere on the road. This happened by pure chance, because the road had been cleared literally a day ago and had not yet been covered with snow, and this, as I learned from the Internet, rarely happens.

“Is this the same house?” asked Dalila, getting out of the car.

“I think so,” I said, looking at the navigator on my phone.

I prudently took a shovel from home with me to clear the road or dig it to the house. The house was small, one-story.It was clear that no one lived in it. To get to him, we had to jump over the fence. Delilah did it easily, but then fell into the snow almost waist-deep and immediately emerged from there. Her light lilac down jacket looked like a bright spot in the middle of the white snow.

At first I threw a shovel over the fence, because pole vaulting was not part of my plans. I myself, however, also jumped over the fence quite deftly, but only so as not to lose face in front of Delilah… and my shoes, which I was afraid to leave in the snow.

We tried to walk around the house, drowning in the snow, to get inside. The matter seemed stalemate. If in Moscow the weather was almost above zero, and there was almost no snow, then outside the city the picture was completely different. Delilah was frozen, and so was I. But none of us were ready to give up.

“We need to break the window,” said Delilah. “Give me a shovel,” she said peremptorily.

The house was made of wood, as if it had been warped, the windows were kept on the word of honor.

“Let’s try to enter through the door,” I said, not realizing at all that this was a brilliant idea.

We probably could have found the keys to the house in advance, but it would have taken a lot of time, because Aunt Lily Kolyuka didn’t have them. Our stay here was also marred by the fact that we could be arrested for breaking and entering private property, although this was unlikely.

I went to the door and knocked on it. It was closed, but held on flimsily; I pushed it more than once. Delilah shouted to me: “Get away!”, and with a running start, which she could afford in view of the snowdrifts, she attacked her from her feet. It didn’t work out. I knocked on the door again, and then again and again, and in the end the dilapidation of the structure did its job, the door gave in under our common pressure.

***

It was quiet and cold inside, but quite clean, as if someone had tidied up the place. Closer to the window there was a wooden table, next to it there was a refrigerator, and on it was a microwave. We were surprised that there was electricity in the house. It looks like someone has been here, albeit rarely.

We had little information; we ourselves didn’t know why we had come specifically, because there was no one here. We may have acted on a whim, because we didn’t have any other options yet.

“It’s cold,” Delilah said, shivering from the cold.

It really wasn’t much warmer here than outside.

– Maybe we should go down to the basement? – I suggested.

– Is he here? – Delilah was surprised. – Well, there must be something? – I said, meaning that the size of the house is too small and such houses usually have some kind of continuation below.

We searched around the house and indeed found a small door on the floor leading to the basement. I was afraid to let Delilah there. I pulled the wooden door open and looked into the dark space below, illuminating it with the light from my phone flashlight. Delilah sighed, and through her sigh I could sense that she was very tense.

“There’s probably nothing there,” I suggested. – It is very small, but there is a wooden staircase. I don’t know how reliable it is.

– Maybe we should go down? – Delilah suggested to me.