“Liar”

1

Rrrring! Rrrring! Rrrring!

The last thing Dia wanted was to be woken up by a phone call on Sunday morning.

Somehow she managed to sit up in bed, unglue her eyes and then open them wider. Not at all according to the rules of etiquette, she yawned widely, fumbled under the sofa bed for her fluffy slippers, and, as dressed as she was, stomped towards the ringing sleep destroyer.

"Ah-hello-oh-oh…" another yawn could not be suppressed.

"Good morning. Diaphragm?"

The warm voice on the other side of the tube annoyed her a little.

"Yes, ah… Who is that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. This is Force Majeure, a colleague of Cord's. We met at the Department."

Force Majeure? The name sounds familiar.

Oh!

"Cord's partner?" clarified Dia.

"Well, yes," Force replied. "Could you give him the phone?"

"Huh? Yes… Right away-ay-ay." More than anything, Dia wanted to lie back down in the warm, comfortable bed and wrap herself in the soft blanket… But her dream had already evaporated.

She woke Cord. He appeared to feel fine.

"This is Cord."

"Hello."

Until a work phone was installed (the telephone company promised to send a man the day after tomorrow), Cord gave Force Dia's home number. It would not do if he called him at his apartment and bothered Sky.

"What is of such great importance that you wake up honest people at this hour, and even worse, on the weekend?"

"We have a corpse."

"What a bastard."

"Who, me?"

"The corpse. It died at the wrong time."

"I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes."

"Whoa, don't get ahead of things."

"What?"

"Wait a second." Cord covered the receiver with his palm. "Dia! Are you going to the audition today? We can give you a ride."

Girl's soft hand wrapped itself around his waist and her head pressed into his shoulder.

"Yes, you can…" Dia whispered in Cord's ear. "Although wait a minute, I wanted to stop by my father's. If you give me a ride to Palace Square, I would be grateful."

"How much time do you need to get ready?"

"An hour."

"Then go to the bathroom."

Cord removed his hand from the receiver.

"Can we drop Dia at Palace Square?"

"We are not going that way. We'd have to make a detour."

"Do you want the girl to walk there?" said Cord in a jokingly menacing tone. "You woke her up early, good Lord, and now you refuse?!"

Marching into the bath, Dia giggled.

A sigh was heard in the receiver.

"You're exploiting me."

"I exploit everyone."

***

An hour later, Cord and Dia went down to the street. Force was already waiting for them at the gate in front of the building.

"Your boyfriend is making me break the rules," Force complained, gallantly opening the back door for Dia.

"Such a jerk!" Dia winked at him.

They got into the car, and it gently pulled away. Force was a top-notch driver. He even had a certificate of completion of a special course at the Police Academy for extreme driving, and at one point during a chase, he had demonstrated his skills in all their glory. In "peaceful" times, he drove very carefully, so much so that at times it was only possible to determine that the car was moving by the changing landscape outside the window.

"Is Crane already at the scene?" Cord asked.

"No, he's at home, at the dorm."

"What didn't you get him? The guy needs to learn by doing things."

"I think it's too early for him. It's one thing to work with materials in the office, but it's another to go out into the field. Besides, who knows, maybe he will want to provoke you again, and you will want to succumb?"

"That was a month ago," muttered Cord, "and not without reason. Since then, we seem to have communicated normally."

"Nevertheless, I don't want you to hit him in the face again."

"Cord, were you in a fight again?!" Dia protested from the back seat. "Is that a hobby for you or what?"

"Sort of," Cord chuckled. "It happened on the first working day after I was released from the isolation ward."

"Hmm. I did not notice any signs of a fight then."

"Yeah, well, I hit him just once, but that was enough."

"Why did he provoke you?"

"In short, he doesn't like me."

"And if in more detail?"

There was silence in the car.

"Are you going to tell her that story?" Force asked cautiously.

"Do you really want to know?" Cord turned to Dia.

"Well… Is there something naughty?"

"To put it mildly, yes."

"Okay, well, tell me anyway," Dia became serious.

"Good." Cord turned away and looked forward again. "Six years ago, a cousin came to visit Force, the youngest. She was going to university to study… I forgot the name of the field…"

"Literary Sciences," prompted Force.

"Yes, exactly! The girl temporarily settled in with Force—"

"Tell me, do you even remember her name?" asked his friend, who for some reason was irritated.

"Glaze," sighed Cord.

"So call her that, and not 'the girl', at least out of politeness."

"Okay. As it so happened, at that moment Crane was living with Force; he is his half-brother. He had come to visit. And he fell in love."

"Hmm… Really? A love triangle?"

"More like a love segue, with three transitions. Glaze didn't like Crane, but she liked me, and I didn't like her at all."

"Why?"

"Do you know people who do not understand the word 'no'? She was one of those. Plus, she was obsessed. Every time Force and I went somewhere, for example, to a bar, she asked to come with us. And she was constantly rubbing up on me, chattering incessantly and touching me with different parts of her body—"

"With different parts?" Dia giggled.

"Her ass, her boobs, as if by accident, of course. And don't get me wrong, I love women's asses and boobs, but too much, in every sense, is annoying. Good should be enjoyed and had in moderation, but this obsession caused its own rejection. And do not think that… She was comely, many would even say beautiful, but she was not at all my type."

"Which is?"

"There is a great term for such women—'a filly'."

"Oh-oh-oh! And what is your type then?"

"Miniature babes like you."

"You're the 'babe'!" Dia was indignant. "But thanks for the 'miniature'!"

"So Glaze was hanging out with me and didn't pay attention to Crane, who was very jealous of her. Is the background clear?"

"Clear."

"And now the story itself. Once, she finally got to me, and I had sex with her."

"Ooh!"

"Not just like that. You know, there is such a situation where if someone zealously asks you for something and does not accept a refusal, you give it to them, but you do so to discourage them from asking further. And I did something similar. In general, we got laid. And here we are lying in bed after sex, and I kind of casually say: 'Now are you finally satisfied?'"

"Oh… That is a very offensive question."

"I know. I specially formulated it so that it was clear I was saying: 'I don't like you, but sex is like a handout so that you leave me alone'."

"And she left you alone?"

"In a way. When I had replayed the scene in my head, I had thought that after that she would go into hysterics, or tears, or whining, or something like that. Then I would have to apologize first, say I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, but at the same time try to stay on that edge to not really beg for forgiveness. It turned out differently."

"How?"

"She didn't answer. I mean, I said the words—and, in response, silence. I turned to her. She was asleep. Well, I thought, this is a fiasco: now, on the contrary, she will become attached to me, and I will never get rid of her. And I couldn't wake her up to specifically say that phrase because it is stupid… In short, I fell asleep with some wild disappointment. I woke up about three hours later from a horrendous uproar. Someone was pounding on the front door with all their strength. Well, I pulled on my underpants and went to open it. Along the way, I stepped into a puddle in the hallway. I was surprised. Where did a puddle come from? But I did not attach it any importance. I opened the door. There were the neighbors from below, screaming, said I was flooding them. Then it hit me like a shock: a puddle in the hallway, flooded neighbors, the bathroom… And I ran there. Opened the door, turned on the light, and… There she was. Lying. Naked. In red water, her wrists ripped open. I was in shock and the neighbors too. And then someone hit me in the back of the head, and I passed out."

"Oh my God!" Dia whispered, astonished.

"In short, the neighbor thought I had killed the girl, so he hit me. And, damn it, that's what happened in essence. It seemed to me that because of that phrase… Well, that's all, actually."

"How is that everything? So what happened next?"

"Nothing special. I was worn out by the courts, I was fired… By the way, I got my position back thanks to Force. Once I was attacked by Glaze's father but defended myself. Everyone blamed me for her death, including me. I was ashamed. But you know, not like when you switch the blame onto another, but real, one hundred percent pure distilled shame. In the end, all the charges against me were dropped, and the case was closed. Since then, Crane has hated me. He's sure I killed her. And the thing is that he is partly right."

***

They rode the rest of the way to the square in silence. But in parting, Dia bent down and kissed Cord on the cheek.

As the car moved off again, Force noted cautiously:

"I probably could not tell something like that to my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?" Cord pretended to be surprised.

"No, no, I'm talking about something else," Force shook his head. "She could change her opinion about you. She might understand that you are not such a good person."

"Yes, but I did not position myself that way. And sincerity, it seems to me, is more important. Do you know what I think? If I ever kill a person and Dia asks about it, I will answer her honestly. Lies cannot be hidden for a long time, and the emotional blow from the fact that her boyfriend is not only a killer but also a liar would be much stronger."

"Are you going to kill someone?"

"Who knows… If anything, I'll start with you," Cord gave a predatory chuckle.

"Hey! Why me?" Force smiled.

"Cuz you ask too many stupid questions."

***

The crime scene was cordoned off, and curious onlookers, as usual, were trying to see the corpse, even if only a quick glimpse. Why people like to watch other people's deaths so much?

At the exit from the arch, they were met by Forensics. Force rolled the window down to say hello.

"You took a long time today," stated Forensics.

"Yes, I was abusing my official position," admitted Cord. "However, I don't think we have lost much. How are you doing?"

"Regarding the fact that you have lost little, you are right. Nothing is interesting here except the body."

"Again a ghost killer who leaves no trace?" Cord chuckled.

"Looks like that. Park over there and go to the rubbish area."

***

Onlookers followed him like they would movie stars on a red carpet. Even though the path was asphalt and it led to a heap of garbage and not to fame. To hell with it, Cord liked his work much more.

The body was hidden behind the central of three bins. As soon as he saw it in full, Cord's eyebrows went up.

"Wow," he muttered.

"Huh?" Force did not understand.

"Don't you recognize her?"

Force shrugged.

"Should I?"

"This is Madam from the Blue Eyes. She came to us to identify Familiar after the murder of the prostitute in the park."

Finally, it dawned on Force.

"Wow."

"That's right."

Cord squatted down next to the body. Madam's white face with rolling eyes and open mouth looked creepy. On the neck, just under the jaw, a thin red strangulation groove could be seen.

Strangled.

Cord dropped his gaze. Her beige coat was clean (not counting the back which Madam was resting on against the dumpster), something bulky protruded from her right pocket, and a white envelope was lying on her stomach.

Force clicked the camera.

Cord opened the envelope. Inside was a sheet of paper and a square blue package. The investigator pulled it out carefully.

"What is it?" Force asked.

"Guitar strings," Cord read the package, "bass, steel." He looked up at Forensics. "Did the killer leave us the instrument of the crime again?"

Forensics took the strings from Cord's hands and felt the packaging.

"Possibly. I'll tell you later exactly."

Cord pulled the remaining item out of the envelope. In the center of the page, in letters of different sizes and fonts, cut out either from newspapers or magazines, there was only one word pasted:

Liar

"Hmm. This is already getting interesting."

"'Liar'?" Force asked. "What did it mean? Since she's a prostitute, what's the lie?"

"Let's find out."

Cord felt the right pocket of the coat. Something soft.

Inside was a white paper bag. Cord pulled out its contents and froze.

"Wow," Force muttered, dumbfounded.

Cord's face stared back at Cord with empty eye sockets.

2

Dia couldn't figure out where the entrance was. The building, which was not at all like a theater and was more like a typical three-story residential building, had four entrances, but none of them had a sign saying "Theater Studio 'Counterculture'". The address was correct; she double-checked.

One door led to a hairdresser's. Asking where the entrance to the studio was, the hairdressers shook their heads in bewilderment. The second door was the entrance to a grocery store. There, too, no one knew anything. The third door, a gray metal one with no sign at all, was closed, and the fourth led to the residential part of the house. So, where could the studio be?

Dia walked around the building one more time to make sure she had missed nothing. And this time she discovered something new: a guy appeared next to the closed door. Dia looked at him: handsome, young (she wouldn't give him more than fifteen), and quite tall for his age. He was dressed in jeans and a light jacket, and headphones were visible on his head. Dia decided to ask him.

"Good morning! Can you tell me where the theater studio is?"

The guy, apparently in a musical trance, at first ignored her, but then, when Dia stood right in front of him, he shook himself, smiled, and pulled the headphones down around his neck.

"Sorry! I was listening to music! Did you ask something?"

"Do you have a player?" Dia was interested.

"Ah. Well, yes! Look!" The guy pulled a brand new black player out of his jacket pocket. Not one of those newfangled ones for CDs, but a cassette player. However, it was still a very good one. "It could not only play but also work as a voice recorder. Imagine that!"

"Wow!" Dia was delighted. "Great!" Then she remembered why, in fact, she had approached the guy. "I wanted to ask you, do you, by any chance, know where the theater studio is?"

"'Counterculture'?" The guy's eyes sparkled with joy.

"Yes, that one!"

"It's right here, behind this door!" the guy pointed behind his back. "Are you here about the ad for the audition?"

"Uh-huh!"

"It has already begun. That is why we closed the door so that no one would bother us. Don't worry, there weren't that many people who came, so you'll probably have time to show off! Come on, I'll show you the way."

With a smile, Dia followed the boy. She wondered if he was an actor? Or maybe some make-up artist?

3

Twelve hours.

It took twelve hours to sort out the crime scene: inform the family and colleagues about the murder (they gathered for this at the Blue Eyes despite the day off; many of the girls were in hysterics, and even Sky, who was usually so well balanced, could not hold back her tears) and have a brief chat with them; ascertain whether the mask was brand new and had never been worn; get a bunch of pieces of the paperwork to attract an outside expert and then finally bring it all to the Department. And all of that on a Sunday! It could be said that it was an organizational victory.

The expert was a red-haired woman, slightly older than Cord. Now, being in Force's office together with the investigators, the forensic experts and Chief, she probed the material of the mask with genuine curiosity and almost excitement, twirling it in her hands this way and that, squeezing it, sniffing it, and because of all of that she seemed more like a child who had received a cool new toy rather than an expert.

"What do you say?" Cord interrupted the pantomime.

"What shall I say? This is incredible!" the expert exclaimed enthusiastically. "I have never seen such work in my life! This… I don't know how to even explain it to you, well, this is… Absolute quality! Look!"

The expert carefully pulled the mask on.

Holy shit!

"Can I touch it?" Cord asked in disbelief.

"Yes, of course," the other Cord replied.

Those around them gasped and began to whisper quietly to each other. The mask almost perfectly resembled Cord's facial features, even the little details and the skin's texture. And the hair was about the same.

"So it looks like—" Cord muttered, amazed.

"Could you share your professional opinion about the material the mask is made of?" asked Force.

The expert carefully removed the mask and handed it over to the forensic expert, who had already prepared a package for the material evidence.

"I don't know. I've never seen such material. It seems to be silicone, but how it fits around the head, how it is removed and put on… It feels like cotton. I have never come across such material. I'm not even sure if we have someone in the city who could even produce something like that. Perhaps a private individual, but—"

"But you do not know who it could be?" finished Force.

The girl sighed.

"We rarely work with people like them. Quality control."

"I see. However, you were very helpful to the investigation."

***

Ten minutes to midnight.

Cord entered Force's office.

"Stop."

Force, who was already putting on his coat, turned and sat down in the seat.

"Hey, maybe call it a day?" he muttered wearily.

"Something came to my mind."

"I'm listening," sighed his partner.

"You said your mom is religious."

"Well, yes."

"Do you know about religion yourself?"

Force shrugged.

"In general terms."

"I wondered why the word 'liar'? And a strange associative array came to my mind. Look, the first one killed is a prostitute. If I am not mistaken, there is such a mortal sin as adultery."

"So…" Force folded his hands into a steeple and focused.

"The second victim… Well, aside from trying to kill me, he was a drunkard. Isn't that the sin of gluttony?"

"Okay, let's say it is… And the murdered doctor?"

"A collateral sacrifice," Cord said dismissively.

"Okay, but the third victim is a prostitute too, that is, adultery again," Force said slowly, "but the killer specifically determined her to be: a 'liar'."

"Yes!" Cord exclaimed with delight.

"There is a problem. Lying is not a mortal sin, but is one commandment. 'Do not commit perjury' which is right up there with 'Do not kill' and 'Do not steal'."

"Oh, so these are not sins," Cord sighed in disappointment.

"There is no consistency," Force nodded. "If the killer went for mortal sins, then he should have killed, for example, someone guilty of greed or gluttony—"

"Like you."

"Ha-ha. Or a sloth, like you."

"You're the sloth!"

Force smiled.

"I mean, it's a rather strange sampling of victims."

"Hmm. Does this mean that the version of religious murders is not plausible?"

"Wait for now. You got me interested. I'll look into it."

4

In fact, Cord would not think about any religious killings. What they had in common was something different, and he knew what it was, but the religious motive would look very good in the texts of one certain yellow journalist…

Although Cord was hopeful, he did not count on such luck. Force was not a fool, and until now, has been skillfully cryptic with everything.

Cord returned home close to one in the morning. It turned out that one clever aristocratic woman had prepared him supper, and it was still warm. Yes, Cord did not think that he would have ordinary human life one day—the life he had always dreamed of. Warmth, coziness—and a woman waiting for him with fried chicken in a frying pan…

And with news.

"I was taken by the troupe!" Dia announced happily as he put food on his plate.

"Oh, they gave you a role?"

"Exactly! One of the main ones!"

"Congratulations! And what kind of performance is it?"

"'Third parties' it's called."

"About the courts or what?"

"Nope. About a writer, and I play his wife. They promise to give me the script this week, and I'll start rehearsing!"

"I am glad for you!"

"By the way, Sky called you," Dia watched with love as Cord devoured a chicken leg.

"Huh? What did she want?"

"She said she remembered something about the murder. And she asked for you to call back as soon as you can."

"How long ago was that?"

"Two hours ago. I didn't call you at work. I figured you'd be home soon, anyway."

"I'm sorry. The work is endless. By the way, thanks for the yummy food!"

Dia blushed from the compliment.

***

After supper, Cord dialed Sky.

"Hello?" her voice was sad.

"Hi, this is Cord. Dia said you wanted something?"

"You asked us today about many little things that Madam might have had, and I remembered something. I gave her a cassette player for her birthday. Small, black, with headphones included. Did you find it? She may have been listening to music, so she didn't hear the killer. That's what I thought."

"No. Madam had nothing of the kind on her. But you again have provided potentially helpful information…"

"Really? Oh, I'm so glad! Especially if it helps to find the killer—"

"Do you remember the model number?"

"I have the magazine, you know, the advertisement. The reason I chose it."

"Great! Bring it to the Department tomorrow when you come for questioning."

After exchanging a couple more phrases, the friends said goodbye. It's funny, Cord now considered Sky as a friend, although he didn't really communicate with her. Maybe I am changing, starting to trust people? Maybe I am becoming a normal person?