Елена Бреус

MyPhotoРодилась, живу и работаю в Алма-Ате, Казахстан. За свою жизнь сменила множество профессий: от почтальона и сотрудника отдела кадров до врача и переводчика, но любовь к литературе в конце концов пересилила. Поэтому три года назад, прочитав все, что возможно в своем любимом жанре - ироническом детективе - начала писать сама. Считаю, что в детективе всегда должен быть захватывающий сюжет и непредсказуемая развязка, а иначе за него и браться не стоит!


Mystery novel "Dark Night in the Suburbs"

Prolog

 Special agent Paul Krosby moved swiftly through corridors of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. His forehead was wrenched into a deep furrow, the corners of his mouth gloomily turned down, eyes squinted but glaring.

His office assistant, Ms. Lind, beamed at him, but her cheerful smile vanished when she saw his face. Miss Lind secretly adored her boss and had studied him thoroughly during the last six months. This menacing facial expression obviously indicated that something horrible had happened. Neither said hello.

 "Is Briks here?" Paul asked abruptly. Without waiting for an answer, he added, "Find him! I need him immediately!"

"Bammm!" He slammed the thin door of his small office, setting the French blinds on the windows trembling.

Miss Lind exchanged scared glances with Sergeant Tubarik, who stood frozen next to the copy machine. Both clearly understood that this frame of mind could result in a bunch of trouble for all subordinates. The girl broke into a fast trot to look for the missing colleague. Fortunately, she was perfectly aware of his whereabouts. She ran directly to the smoking area. The numerous FBI smokers spent short gaps here between their accomplishments of secret operations and following successful writing.

"Alan!" she yelled into the clouds of smoke, "Hurry up! Boss wants to see you!"

"Hey, Rosa! What's the rush? Did he develop diarrhea and run out of toilet paper?" The speaker, a tall man with black, curly hair, comfortably occupied an armchair and obviously had zero intent to make a move. Colleagues around him met these words with loud laughter.

"Alan! Something’s happened!" the girl repeated indignantly. " His face is such...  Such...!" She was unable to find the proper words. Instead, she bulged her eyes and twisted mouth and brows, in an attempt to portray Paul Krosby in a rage.

"Oh!" Briks was slightly puzzled. He paused for a moment and airily waved his hand. "Look, if he has THAT face, you'd better let him know that you didn't find me!"

"Briks!!!" Ms. Lind went on, outraged, "If you don't report to him immediately, I would say that, that..." Once again, she failed to express her emotions verbally. Her face turned red with wrath. She breathed deeply and slightly inclined her head, like a goat ready for a head butt.

"OK, OK, dear! Calm down! I'm coming!" Briks reluctantly raised himself up. "No more screaming, please!"

The office assistant didn't grace him with an answer. She gave him a withering look and hastily turned back to the office. Any person who dared to make fun of the boss's orders did not deserve even her minimal respect. She ran quickly back to her desk and sat there, motionless and breathless, with eyes fixed on the door of her adored Chief.

She wanted to be the most helpful person for him, and deep in her mind, she fostered a hope that at some time this iron man would come to appreciate her diligence, dedication, and hard work... as well as her blue eyes, long legs, nice personality, and all her other excellent features... These vague dreams raised blushes on her cheeks and increased her heart rate.

Briks entered the room a minute later and his penetrating gaze recognized her secret thoughts. His mouth stretched into ironic smile and Ms. Lind turned scarlet.

"OK! I'm here!" he announced loudly. He made his way in front of the now confused office assistant and approached the door of the Section Chief. Drawing a deep, heavy breath, he pulled the handle. The ironic smile disappeared immediately when he saw his boss. "Is something wrong with Robert?" he asked, his tone becoming agitated.

"Robert is dead!" Paul Krosby shut his eyes in anguish.

"What???"  The blood drained from Briks's face.

Their colleague Robert Magnus was assigned to a special undercover task and yesterday they had lost all contact with him.

"His body was found this morning at the secret address and brought to the local police station,” Krosby explained. “I’ve already made arrangements to bring him here."

Krosby spoke in a flat manner, but his tightly clenched fists revealed barely controlled anger. Agent Magnus had been planted into the secretive criminal structure oriented on narco-business. Because of its highest secrecy, they had managed to slip through the police nets for several years and the decision had been made that the best agents from the FBI should join an operation. This counter-drug action had been thoroughly prepared for several months, but now the sudden death of its key figure had rendered it totally ineffective.

"How did he die? Who killed him? " Briks's fingers shook as he tried to loosen the knot in his tie. He found the death of that jolly fellow Robert hard to believe. Magnus’s cubicle was next to his. He’d never see Magnus, with his regular bottle of diet cola in his left hand, come strolling into the office again!

A storm raging inside Paul Krosby launched him out of his chair. He raised his hand and slammed the defenseless desk surface. Pens and pencils jumped out of the jar and rolled around in panic.

"These are the questions we must answer!" Krosby's roar of anger was heard far beyond his door. "And we will do this!"

Chapter 1. In the Dumpster

The Mokasche brothers returned home late that night. They had already made several miles on foot but were now so exhausted that couldn't argue any longer.

The older brother, Gustav, suffered much more. His short legs not only had to carry an ample beer belly, but also felt every roughness of the pavement through the thin soles of his expensive shoes.

Hugo, the younger brother, was in a better position, since he had neither excess weight nor money for good footwear. Nevertheless, he looked much gloomier and more distressed. His brother blamed him for spending the last fifty backs on the card table, although it was Gustav who had actually done the gambling.

"Bloody fool!" wailed Gustav, as he stepped on a sharp stone. He had said the same thing more than a hundred times already. "You should’ve stopped me! And now, thanks to your stupidity, we cannot take a taxi and enjoy happy dreams in our beds!"

Junior Mokasche didn't answer. He was used to the fact that he was responsible for everything bad that happened to his brother.

Gustav had to eat stale bread for breakfast? It was because this bastard Hugo forgot to buy fresh rolls! Gustav was fired from his job again? Of course, it was Hugo's fault! He’d failed to wake Gustav up over the last three months and the poor guy was always late! The older brother was not on good terms with women? Oh, it was absolutely clear why he was still alone! If only this young idler of a brother would stop hustling around and messing up everything with his sweet, arrogant face!

This continuous abuse boosted Hugo's immunity to harassment and he usually could take it rather philosophically, but today's rebukes were extremely unfair. He strode behind Gustav with a scowling face and aggrievedly sniffled from time to time. His overfilled bladder demanded an ease at the nearest corner, but he kept grim silence. He didn't want to please Gustav with a refusal to stop.

Fortunately, Gustav's bladder also had limited capacity and pretty soon all the cocktails absorbed by him in the bar were ready to go out.

"Halt!" The older brother pointed to a dark corner between two buildings and behind dumpsters. He raced there, unbelting his pants on the way.

Junior Mokasche eagerly followed him, and in a few seconds, two powerful streams hit the wall.

With his much anticipated relief, easy-going Hugo cheered up a bit. He opened his mouth to announce that they were not far from home, but his encouraging words were interrupted by a sudden noise.

Coming on at a good speed, a car spun around the corner and stopped on the other side of the dumpsters with a loud brake squeal.

Hugo was very glad that they had chosen the dark niche for their minor public nuisance, as they had escaped the beams of the driving lights. He zipped pants hastily and listened. The clang of a trash can lid and human wheezing left him in no doubt that the car driver was placing something heavy into the garbage. Seconds later, the invisible driver got back into the car and rushed away, leaving the smell of burning tires behind. Hugo craned his neck and observed the rear part of a white pickup racing away.

The brothers exchanged puzzled glances. Respectable people do not dump their trash on a deserted street and race away wildly afterwards.

"Go and have a look at what's inside!" commanded Gustav. He emerged from the dark corner and pointed his finger at the trash can.

"Why should I? "  protested the younger brother.

"Open it, now!" Gustav raised his voice.

Hugo rolled up his sleeves obediently and lifted the lid. The darkness inside the stinky and filthy can reported no details, but right at the top he could see two black leather soles. Hugo slightly pushed one of them with his finger and it slowly moved to the left, revealing a hairy leg in a raspberry sock.

 "Holy Bleu!" He turned away from the can in panic. "It's a dead body!"

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