Interrogations, Identification, and Other Routines

1

During the active phase of an investigation, some investigators prefer to work in hyper emergency mode, almost without sleep. So that, according to some, they are more productive.

Nonsense! There is no one more productive than a well-rested person. If Cord had to work all night, the next day he would take time off and sleep as much as necessary. Only then would he return to work. However, today he decided to make an exception.

For that reason, early in the morning, Cord burst into his friend's office.

"Hi!"

Force, who was sitting wearing headphones, was engaged in transcribing an audio recording. Noticing Cord, he pressed the 'pause' button on the tape recorder.

"You're not late today," said Force, taking off his headphones, "and looking nice too, I see."

"Yes, I went to the brothel yesterday, and then I came back here. I couldn't carry all the cassettes in my jean pockets." explained Cord. "What do you think about what I told you?"

"By the way, a normal person would have started with an apology. Calling at five in the morning! How did you come up with that?"

"You would have still gotten up in an hour."

"And that hour of sleep would have been crucial."

"Okay, I'm sorry." Cord sat down in his usual chair near Force's desk.

"As it turns out, you seem to have been right."

"Were there any problems?"

"He was not even surprised when they came for him. Although he was sleepy, it is possible that he did not immediately understand what was going on."

"Was he interrogated?"

Instead of answering, Force pointed to the tape recorder.

"Will you finish with the transcript soon?"

"I just started."

"So, rewind it a little. Will you?"

Cord turned the tape recorder towards him and pressed the eject button. Pulling out the cassette, he took a pencil from the table and began to carefully roll the tape to the beginning. This is the same case when "it was better before" and interrogations were recorded on reels. Although they were cumbersome, there were no problems with automatic rewinding. But nope, we need to keep up with the times, we must use these small modern cassette players, which almost always break by themselves or spoil the recordings! At least they were portable, and you could plug headphones in.

When he finished rewinding the tape, Cord put on the headphones and turned on the cassette.

The recording was short. Familiar obediently answered Force's questions, did not play for time, and dodged nothing. That is, he behaved like a law-abiding, self-confident citizen. This did not go well with Force's words: usually law-abiding people are surprised when the police come to see them. They start to get nervous, even if they have done nothing reprehensible. Although it is impossible to generalize about everyone, Familiar's reactions were curious.

"Will you give me your cassettes?" Force asked.

Cord set the recording to replay and silently handed Force the materials. After listening to the interrogation again, Cord summed it up:

"Good. Where is he now?"

"In the interrogation room, waiting for you. Did you learn anything useful?"

"We'll see. It's a pity that you didn't ask him about the time of their departure."

"Damn it, I forgot!" Force hit the table, kicking himself.

"It's okay, nothing major. He gave us the names of his friends, so we'll find out from them. Have you contacted them yet?"

"Yes, they'll be here at eleven."

"Great! That means we have two hours to decide on the aim of their interrogations. What about the prostitutes?"

Force blushed.

"I called them and told them to come by one o'clock."

"So today we work without lunch?" Cord chuckled.

"I brought mine with me," Force smiled.

"So, I will be the only one without lunch. Okay. Okay!" Cord returned the headphones to Force. "Do you have any blank tapes?"

"How many do you need?" Force opened a drawer.

"Give me a couple."

"Oh! I almost forgot," said Force, handing the tapes to his friend. "Go and see Chief before the interrogation. And you can stop by your office: yesterday's reports by Forensics and forensic team are there. Also, this evening the brothel promised to give us some more information."

***

In principle, it is not surprising that Chief wants to see me. It is not every day that his son is suspected of murder.

Cord knocked.

"Come in!"

Cord entered and saluted.

"Good morning, Comrade Major General!"

"Ah, it's you, son. Be so kind and have a seat," Chief greeted him. "And what is it that drew you to all the officialdom today?"

Cord chuckled.

"I should at least sometimes look like a normal employee and not some sloven."

His boss, who had recently celebrated his sixtieth birthday, was strong both in spirit and body, and by his appearance, one could not tell his age. He looked more like a cheerful milkman: a gray mustache, a round face, laughing eyes, and a warm fatherly smile. You couldn't tell by looking at him that this kind fatherly figure used to be the scourge of criminals, and that was in days when crimes were much worse than now.

"You're early today," said Chief, putting aside the papers he had been filling out before Cord arrived.

"As I understand it, Familiar is already here. The sooner we interrogate, the sooner we will release him... Or perhaps not."

"Yes, yes, of course. Ahem... Here's the deal..." Chief formed a pyramid with his hands and rested them so that his index fingers covered his mustache.

Cord stared at him in silence.

"Ahem. Well, yes... So, I want to ask... Why did you decide my son was involved in this crime?"

"Yesterday, when Force and I returned from the park, I met Familiar outside and smoked with him. Your son mentioned he had gone out to visit whores. Later they described one client as being a tall blonde."

Chief nodded.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh... Okay. Do your job."

The boss gestured to Cord that he was free.

***

A strange conversation.

No, I can understand Chief: after all, we suspect his son, so his curiosity is fully justified. But something still felt wrong. Chief had seemed to be himself, but today there was a certain level of artificiality in his behavior.

Cord delayed the interrogation a little longer: it was necessary to prepare. He went into his office and carefully read the materials provided by the forensic team. The further he studied the data, the wider his smile grew.

Jackpot!

Nearly.

It is time to visit Familiar.

2

There were two opposite points of view on the arrangement of interrogation rooms.

The first advocated comfort: the criminal should feel non-hostile in the situation. The investigator was supposed to be sensitive and friendly, and the interrogation should be conducted softly to be like a conversation between two friends.

The adherents of the second point of view argued the opposite: interrogators should be as hostile to the criminal as possible to be physically and psychologically difficult for him to be with them. They say this would be a motivator to speak as fast as possible and tell all to get out of the hellish place.

The interrogation room of the Central Police Department was of the second type. This was because of the old age of the building: when it was being built, there had been no discussions about comfort. The interrogation room in the basement provided the suspect with only a chair, a table, and thoughts about the inevitability of punishment. However, that was good. Cord believed this: if you have committed a crime, suffer. Anything else led to nothing. All these games about humanism did not lead to anything good.

Going down to the basement with the tape recorder, Cord went to a gray metal door with a window cut into it. He opened the hatch and looked into the room. Familiar sat sprawled on a plastic chair, eyes closed, as if not worrying about anything. Doesn't look tense at all. Okay.

The door banged shut. Familiar lazily opened his eyes and saw Cord approaching him. Reluctantly, he straightened up.

"Hello," Cord greeted the detainee. "We meet for the second time, two days in a row."

"Well, you brought me here," Familiar stretched. "One of yours... said."

"His name is Force, you know that."

Familiar waved dismissively.

"Well, so what? Are you going to keep me here long?"

"Until we have clarified everything." Cord sat down opposite him and put the recorder on the table. "We need to clarify something that came up during the interrogation by Force, so I came."

In reality, however, the reason was different.

Force was a master of the primary interrogation. He knew how to win over suspects, listening carefully to what they wanted to say, and at times even fishing for what the suspects did not plan to report. When completing the interrogation, he created confidence in the possible criminal that he was winning in the intellectual game.

And then Cord came in.

This time Force had done the same, left the sweets for him. Undoubtedly, the tactical investigator had read the reports by the forensic team and was entirely in possession of the trump card, but, of course, this was not shown to Familiar. And rightly so, Cord wouldn't say anything about it now either, but after the identification was made... Hee-hee. Hee-hee-hee!

This conversation didn't really make sense, but Cord wanted to have some fun.

Familiar grimaced.

"Aren't I entitled to a lawyer?"

"Well, if you are guilty, then, of course, but to be honest," Cord smiled with satisfaction, "investigators have twenty-four hours to interrogate a detainee without the intervention of other parties. So simply put, a lawyer will not be available until tomorrow."

"But what about the human right to personal freedom and other stuff?"

"You have to live in another country for that. Our police can detain you for a day, and nothing will happen to them. If they suspect something, you can be held in an isolation ward for another twenty days. And that is also legal. However, usually, the question of guilt is resolved earlier."

"So you think I'm guilty of killing that prostitute?"

"Not really," Cord was cheating. "I want to make sure it has nothing to do with you. Well. Let's get started?"

Cord pressed the record button and rattled off the introductory bureaucracy into the machine.

"So, Familiar, on the night of the eleventh to the twelfth, you visited the Swallowtail Brothel. Is that right?"

Familiar nodded.

"Verbally, please. How can I record a nod onto an audio cassette?"

"Yes, I did."

"You were there with four friends."

"That's right."

"Can you tell me their names?"

Familiar named them. Cord continued to ask questions: what time had they come to the brothel, how had they spent the evening, and other general inquiries to verify the information.

"Getting back to your friends," Cord continued. "Do you trust them?"

Familiar pondered the question.

"Well, yeah."

"And you screwed nothing up for any of them?"

Such a question can unsettle many. People begin to delve into themself—to remember and to reflect. Then suddenly, they discover they may well have not been so loved as they had thought.

"No, no..." after a brief pause, Familiar trailed off uncertainly.

Cord noted his behavior. If before he had sat relaxed, now he was composed. Doesn't want to say too much?

"That is, none of them would like to take revenge on you for something?"

"Why would they?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

His eyes started darting around. The question was why? Familiar is now tense, which means the situation needs to be defused a little.

"I know you're neurotic," Cord caught Familiar's eye and smiled. "I was always amazed at how girls grabbed on to you."

"They were attracted by my success." Familiar raised his index finger notably.

"Even when you told them about the problems with your head? Why? So they felt sorry?"

"Nope. Thanks to that, they admired me even more." Familiar grinned.

Oh, he had already cheered up. Okay.

"How does all that work?"

"You know what smart people say: 'Make your weaknesses your strengths.' That's what I did."

"That's a stupid phrase," Cord chuckled, "but if it helped you... Good. Nevertheless, I will explain why I am asking you the question about revenge. Look: you have a weak side and many people know about it. Why did you decide that the friends you were in the brothel with couldn't use it to harm you?"

"Because we trust each other. Something you can't understand. You, always with your cynicism and suspicion..." Familiar shook his head. "That's why we're still sitting here, even though we could already be smoking near the entrance."

Well, it looked like Familiar had switched from defense to attack. Time to counterattack!

Cord raised his hands.

"Touché. But understand me too: the murder of a prostitute was committed in the park, close to the Swallowtail where you were. Yesterday you were behaving strangely, and you even said that you had gone after prostitutes." Cord shrugged. "It would have been unprofessional for me not to check you out. Then I got to thinking: did any of you by chance to leave the brothel earlier than the others?"

"Um... No. We all left together."

"Are you sure?" Cord quickened the pace of his speech.

"I'm sure."

"And that whore?"

"Listen, I don't keep track of all the whores I fuck."

"That is, you fucked her that night."

Familiar tensed.

"Let me remind you, a whore from another brothel."

Cord looked at Familiar seriously. The jokes were over.

"Go fuck yourself." Familiar had already turned gray from the fact that he fell into such a primitive trap, one which was even ashamed to call a trap.

Cord just smiled.

"Familiar, you are suspected of the murder of a prostitute in the park on the night from the eleventh to the twelfth of July. Supplementary interrogation number one is over."

3

The clock showed 11:15, which meant that Force had already begun talking with Familiar's friends. For the time being, Cord could deal with deciphering the material and rest a little before Madam and the girls arrived.

On second thought, it would be better to first run to the police canteen.

***

When he returned, well-fed and contented, Force was waiting for him in his office.

"Well, what happened?" asked Cord.

"All four confirmed their presence at the Blue Eyes."

"Something strange is going on here." Cord sighed. "It would be logical if Familiar had warned his friends to insist that they had been at the Swallowtail... Something is wrong here."

"You mean everything is going too smoothly?"

"Yeah. Perhaps Familiar wants us to catch him in a lie?"

"Or he forgot to warn his friends."

"Do you believe that?"

4

The identification room comprised two adjacent rooms, both one and a half by three meters in size, separated by shockproof glass. In one, there was a height graph along the back wall, a plastic chair (like in the interrogation room), and the suspects (one real and two employees of the Department possessing similar appearances). In the other were the investigators, a desk which was up against the glass, a video camera and an employee who was operating it. According to Cord, the fundamental problem in this place was the transparent, instead of one-sided, glass. That is, the person being identified could see (though not hear) the identifier perfectly.

Chief, however, saw no need to modernize the room.

"Ensuring the safety of the witnesses is a police concern, not replacing glass," he had said.

Well, you can't argue with that, but the current identification worried Cord. The suspect is the son of Chief, who could well get away with eliminating witnesses...

That is why Cord asked the prostitutes not to positively identify Familiar. Moreover, now their testimony was almost irrelevant: that Familiar was in the brothel had become perfectly clear even from Forensics's report, and by this evening, the forensic team would probably confirm this further. Cord simply wanted the suspect to get a little nervous.

At one-thirty, a minibus with Madam and her "ducklings" in it pulled into the police parking lot. Cord could not get the analogy out of his head: so amusingly the maidens turned their pretty little heads and whispered to each other! Then one looked directly at him from afar and nodded with a smile.

The identification procedure began at about two o'clock. It was a tedious business: each girl who entered the room was read her rights and obligations under the law. Each one then identified first Familiar's friends, then Familiar himself. All of it was recorded on a video camera. Twenty minutes later, the identification ended, and another girl approached the glass, and everything was repeated.

They had listened to Cord's advice, and they all pointed to Familiar with doubt, answering: "Maybe it's him," or "I'm not sure," and one frowned and asked if they could undress the suspect because as she had said, "If I see his dick, then I'll know for sure." Naturally, they did not undress the suspect.

Madam was the last, and she did what Cord had feared.

"That is definitely him!" she pointed to Familiar. "I remember him!"

***

After identification, Cord approached her and her "ducklings".

"Why didn't you do as I suggested?"

"I didn't think it would be right. I believe that I, as the madam, should contribute to the punishment of the bastard who killed my ward."

"You may have put yourself in unnecessary danger."

"I'm ready!" the woman proudly lifted her head. "You cannot be the madam if you cannot accept the consequences of your decisions."

"That's your business," Cord shrugged. "So this is definitely him?"

The "ducklings" nodded, and Sky added:

"That is definitely him. And those are definitely them. But he was the one who chased after Piala."

"Well, thanks for helping the investigation. Sky, can I speak to you for a minute?"

"Why do you need her?" Madam frowned.

"She, as the witness to his escape, may be exposed to additional danger if Familiar remembers her. I just need to instruct her how to proceed."

They stepped aside.

"Are you telling me the truth? Am I in danger of death?" Sky said it so calmly that she surprised Cord.

"It's better to be safe than sorry." The investigator smiled and pulled out his card from his inside jacket pocket, on which were written his work and home phone numbers and his name. "If you have any problems or suspect that you may be in danger, call immediately. Anytime!"

Sky accepted the card and smiled back.

"Oh, you are not asking me out on a date, by any chance?"

"I can't handle two girls at once." Cord chuckled. "Just that you, as a witness, are the most valuable, and I need nothing to happen to you."

"Okay. What about the other girls?"

"No, they're out of danger."

"And Madam?"

"Tell her I asked you to walk around only in lighted and crowded places and instructed you to call the police and ask for Cord if anything happens. By the way, that is really possible to do. You would simply be transferred to my office."

"Thanks for the advice!"

Returning Sky to the "flock" and saying goodbye to everyone, Cord went back to his office. Well, the last thing left for today was now the final interrogation of Familiar. He needed to prepare for it.

5

The forensic team delivered the materials on the examination of the Blue Eyes at about seven, which meant that he would have to stay at work late so as not to postpone the interrogation until tomorrow. Having carefully studied the new information, Cord sighed in disappointment: nothing particularly damning against Familiar had been found. If he had cracked the girl's skull inside the room and she had escaped and later died of blood loss, Cord could have played on that, but... Okay, it's time to talk to the suspect.

This time Force would be present during the interrogation, and Chief would certainly want to attend. Cord didn't think this would cause any significant inconvenience. The boss had no right to interfere in the conversation and somehow help his son, but moral support for Familiar would not hurt.

At half past seven, all four gathered in the interrogation room. Familiar, more collected than in the morning, was sitting in the same place, Cord opposite. Force with a notebook and Chief were on chairs near the entrance, sort of spectators. Generally, Force could not always be so relaxed as he often had to apply pressure to the criminal to make him feel uncomfortable. However, this time Cord decided not to use such method.

At seven-thirty, the interrogation began.

After stating the required opening, Cord smiled dismissively.

"Well, as lovers of the phrase 'We have what we have' say, let's start from the beginning."

They walked through the previously covered material. Familiar, to his honor and praise, did not change his testimony at all, and therefore his trip to the Swallowtail was quickly sorted out. The time has come to enter unexplored informational territory: the adventures of the blonde at the Blue Eyes.

"So as it works out: you arrived at that brothel around eleven?"

"Yes, uh-uh... Maybe a quarter to eleven."

Force nodded.

"The testimony is the same: three of his friends said the same thing."

"Good. Why did you decide to change your place of pleasures?"

"It was planned."

This time Familiar spoke willingly. Perhaps the presence of his father helped, at whom he periodically looked.

"What happened between you and Piala?"

"Well..." Familiar looked shyly at his father. "We were in a torture chamber. And there were some... Uh-uh... Tools, which it turned out, were just hanging for a show, not for games."

"You tried to use one of them?"

"The Pear of Anguish."

It was clear why Familiar had decided that it was for games: the specifics of the use of this "fruit" were well known.

"But I didn't mean to hurt her," the blond stated. "I wanted to... How should I say... Just see what it was like."

Cord scratched the back of his head.

"Your interests are rather strange."

"We paid so much money!"

"Okay, we are not concerned about that right now. What exactly did you do to her?"

"I simply took the tool off the hook on the wall, turned to her, and her eyes were bulging out, and she shouted it was prohibited. I thought it was just part of the game and went over to her. And she kicked me and ran out. I followed her, but first I approached a friend sitting in the main hall with one prostitute. I asked him where she had run to. He said that she had run out of the exit. Well, so I followed her."

Wow, how smooth he talks. It sounds like the truth. Even as if it is not in his favor. Okay...

"First, I went to change. Then I went outside. I saw she was crossing the road and going to the park, and there was an entrance nearby. I followed her to apologize. She noticed me and ran." Familiar sighed. "I caught up with her about a hundred meters from the entrance. In any case, the gate was no longer visible. And then I... Uh-uh... Grabbed her hand, although I probably shouldn't have... Well, in short, I grabbed her, turned her around, and apologized."

"How did she react?"

"At first, she screamed, but then I began to apologize, and well, she fell silent. I said I had acted like an asshole and would like to make amends. She said: 'Let go.' I let go, and she turned around and ran away saying nothing."

Familiar fell silent. Cord was digesting the information. The story is too smooth and too unsubstantiated: Piala can neither confirm nor refute it. Of course, it cannot be ruled out that perhaps Familiar is now sincere... Even so, I sense a hitch.

"What happened next?" Cord finally asked.

"I returned to the park entrance and called a taxi home."

"From a payphone?"

"Well, yes."

"Give me the phone number of the taxi company, please." Familiar dictated the number. Later, Force would verify the call.

"What time did you call?"

"I don't know, about three o'clock, probably... I don't know exactly."

"Security recorded the time you left the brothel," said Force, "two o'clock and twelve minutes. What did you do for forty-eight minutes?"

"I walked around," Familiar shrugged.

Cord noticed a slight change in Familiar's behavior. Before this question, his hands were on the table, almost parallel to each other. Now he put the right on top of the left.

"Why didn't you go back to the brothel?" Cord asked.

"Well..." Familiar sighed. "I was ashamed. That whole scene and—"

"You were not missed?"

"No. They probably thought that I was with Piala because she didn't come back either."

"But you say you weren't with her."

"After she left, no."

"When did this happen?"

"Well... If I left at two twelve. Hmm... Ten minutes then. Maybe fifteen, I can't say for sure."

Force coughed.

"Based on the Forensics's report, the approximate time of Piala's death is between two thirty-two and two forty-five. You said she left at two twenty-two or two twenty-seven. This means that the girl died almost immediately after you said goodbye."

Force was very fond of working with numbers. And every time he pointed out inaccuracies in them to suspects, they lost heart.

Like what was happening to Familiar now. He glanced at the tactical investigator but said nothing. Cord noticed that the forefinger of Familiar's left hand tapped the table twice. Nervous?

"I see. When did you get home?" Cord changed the subject.

And Familiar again, with visible relief, switched from difficult questions to those for which he was ready.

"Mmm... Somewhere about four in the morning."

"And at nine-thirty, you and I met here, on the front steps of the Central Police Department."

"Well, yes."

"What were you doing here? Didn't you want to sleep it off after such a stormy night?"

"I wanted to, but my father woke me up with a call."

"At home?"

"Yes, he called at seven in the morning. He said to come to his work."

"Confirmed," said Chief. "I called him as soon as I found out about the murder of that girl."

"Why?"

"Well, because I know my son and about his habit of going to brothels instead of finally getting married." Chief looked reproachfully at Familiar, who averted his eyes. "I'll request information from the telephone company to prove what I said."

Cord nodded.

"Good. Thank you. Well, with that, I propose finishing the interrogation. There's just..." Cord was reaching for the button to turn off the tape recorder when he suddenly pulled his hand away. "I will insert a small remark, in conclusion, so to speak." He sat down more comfortably. "Familiar, mind you: if you are guilty, sooner or later, we will find out. We will find the evidence, witnesses... And that's it. You won't get away. Honestly, telling us the truth will only save us time."

"I told the truth," Familiar answered coldly.

"But not at the first interrogation. Why?"

Chief's son sighed.

"Because I didn't want to be drug into a murder investigation, and I know how it works with you."

"How do you know?"

Familiar said nothing.

"It looks at least a little suspicious when an innocent person starts to play around and lie and does not tell everything at once and honestly, just so that he is released as soon as possible. And once that person lies, there can be no faith in anything he says. Don't you agree?"

Familiar glanced anxiously at his father. He was thoughtfully looking down somewhere and, it seemed, was not at all interested in the ongoing conversation.

"You may have asked yourself," continued Cord, "if I am guilty, why should I, Familiar, make it easier for you, the police, to do your work? The fact is, you will simplify your life by telling us what happened, and you will quickly and calmly begin serving your sentence. Yes, you screwed up, and you receive a punishment, but you get a new life as an honest man when it is over. Or!"

Cord stood up abruptly and hit the table with both palms. Familiar flinched, Chief raised his head, Force muttered warningly:

"Co-ord."

The practical investigator smiled and walked away from the table.

"You know, I'm not sure... Uh-uh... There is no such term in police psychology, but it seems to me that there should be. I'm talking about the hands of justice. About hanging them over the criminal. Punishing brutal hands, ruthless in their justice. Let's be honest: we have nothing on you. Well, other than what we've already mentioned. Probably. And if you don't decide now to give us a frank confession, we will let you go. Fair. Literally ten minutes after the interrogation, you will leave the building, light a cigarette and think: 'It looks like it's over.' And you will continue to live your life. But!" Cord lowered his voice to a loud whisper, walked around the table, and leaned over towards Familiar's right ear. "If you are guilty, during the next days, weeks, and maybe months, you will be haunted by little details. What if the evidence is found? What if they come for me?" Cord paused and, smiling again, walked away from the frozen Familiar and continued in his usual tone. "The inevitability of punishment will haunt you, Familiar, this I can guarantee, until you accept it. And when you consider your mental health... Anxiety, paranoia, panic attacks—who knows what you will gain in addition to what you already have?" Cord gently sank into the chair and held out his hand to the tape recorder. "Therefore, I give you exactly one minute to think and decide: you either confess—or we go to hell?"

The interrogation room fell into a deep silence. It seemed that the people in it were even trying to breathe more quietly.

Force was frozen in the middle of the interrogation room, looking from Cord to Chief.

Chief, trying not to betray his alarm, looked at his son.

Familiar stared silently in front of him.

Cord did not take his eyes off the suspect.

Ten seconds passed.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

Fifty.

...

One minute.

"Your decision?" Cord's voice shattered the cathartic silence.

"I didn't kill her."

6

After the interrogation, the investigators went to Force's office to have tea and discuss what had happened during the hot pursuit.

"Well, you sure did it, of course!" Force noted not without pleasure, pouring boiling water into cups with tea bags in them.

"Damn it, I'm angry," Cord sighed wearily. "I hate it when they only tell me half the truth. Either lie to the end or do not cringe from the truth! This beating around the bush is completely infuriating!"

"So you think Familiar is guilty?"

"Guilty, but he's not the only problem."

"Who else?"

"Chief may have been involved in the murder."

Force stared at Cord in surprise.

"Are you serious?"

"When we started talking about phone calls, remember? Chief said that he called his son in the morning when he learned about the murder of the girl. What for?"

"Hmm..."

"And then he added: because my son plays with whores. And where did he get the idea that this girl was a prostitute? We only found out about that in the evening. I mean, the associative array is pretty weird, don't you think? Is it possible that Chief associates all girls with prostitutes and prostitutes with his son? And really, Familiar does not come to his work after every death of a girl."

Force chewed on his lower lip as he thought.

"I don't think Chief has anything to do with the murder," Cord continued, "but he could well have helped his unlucky son hide the corpse. Which is why, most likely, he will not allow us to investigate the pond with a diving team."

"You know, Cord," said Force, "you might be right. But—"

"Chief's guilt does not fit inside your head?"

"Yeah. That is, he is our boss—"

"And Familiar's father."

"Yes. And the father." Force sighed wearily. "What will we do next?"

"Tomorrow we will decide." Cord said dismissively. "Right now, I propose we have tea and go home. I have already been on my feet for more than a day, and more than anything else, I just want to hit the hay."

7

Returning home at about nine in the evening, Cord called Dia, the girl he had run into, chatted with her for a while, and then made a date for tomorrow.

Familiar's case would not be an easy one. And the problem is not even in solving the murder puzzle but in obtaining the paperwork and permits necessary to do so.

Okay. It is time to finally get some sleep.