Igor Pronin purgatory outcome. Pronin Igor Evgenievich. Plot: seven on a scale of ten

Tatiana Polyakova

The Moor has done his job

The man looked to be about forty. Expensive suit, tie with a gold pin. He jerked his tie loose, wincing in pain. An intelligent face with a neat beard, a thin nose and dark hypnotic eyes could hardly be called pleasant now. He moved his lips nervously, as if uttering an endless internal monologue. However, that’s how it was. From the very moment he learned about the murder, he could not calm down. And it was necessary to calm down in order to make a decision. Very important. So important that his future life depends on it.

It was life, and not a career and well-being, as he thought at first, because now he suddenly realized that a career for him was life. And now, when he is three steps away from his desired goal...

“Bastard,” he whispered, more with pain than with anger, not knowing who he was addressing this accusation to. Probably to everyone who dared to stand between him and his dream. “I won’t let anyone,” he whispered again and shook his head desperately, smiling darkly. - I won’t allow...

It’s easy to say when everything, the whole world is against... He suddenly felt so sorry for himself, his efforts, his torments that he almost cried bitter childish tears.

- No, no, no. We need to pull ourselves together. There is a way out. You need to calm down, and then the solution will certainly come.

He grabbed a pencil and began to roll it across the table, but his movements became more and more nervous and abrupt. They brought no peace. Finally he broke the pencil and threw it on the carpet.

Friends gave him the carpet for his thirty-fifth birthday. Handmade, silk Costs crazy money. He was again pierced by a thought that brought acute pain: what if he really had to part with all this? With the usual comfort that costs big money, with the confidence bestowed by considerable power.

“I won’t let anyone,” he gasped, while his inner voice mockingly whispered: “These are all emotions, but we need to find a solution.” “Go ahead and drink yourself into insensibility,” he thought cowardly. - And what? They say the morning is wiser than the evening.”

He got up, crossed the office, opened the bar door, poured a large portion of cognac and even took a sip. But I didn’t feel the taste. Confusion and fear deprived me of everything, even taste sensations.

“This is unbearable,” he decided, slipping back into tearful self-pity. He carefully put the glass down, although he felt like throwing it at the wall, and walked around the office, clasping his hands behind his back, straightening up proudly and raising his chin. “I can handle it,” he repeated monotonously, typing his step. - I can handle it. I'll find a way out.

He continued to pace around the office, but the thoughts in his head were confused: he either saw himself as Napoleon in the last battle, then again began to complain about how cruelly fate had treated him. He didn't think it was his fault. He had long ago forgotten about his guilt. Hadn't he paid for her with years of fear and humiliation? Sometimes he thought, remembering Lydia: “She feels good.” Yes, yes, exactly like that, as if out of the kindness of his heart he had saved her from torment.

How much did he have to endure? This damn old man, these sneaky investigators, they all wanted only one thing: to destroy him, so talented, born for happiness, wealth, power... He gradually calmed down, returned to the table, stretched out his hands, looking at his nervously trembling fingers. The cuff of his white shirt looked stale, and he pulled his jacket sleeve over it with irritation. Today he didn't even have time to take a bath and change clothes. For this he also blamed this world, where everything, everything, everything is against him.

“There is a way out,” he said with the determination of despair. - You can contact the head of security. Andrei is a determined guy and is unlikely to particularly burden himself with moral issues. For decent money, he will probably agree to solve my problem.

But immediately everything in my soul opposed this. Andrey will have to explain everything somehow. And what? Instead of one guy holding him by the throat, he'll get another. And again the sticky sweat at the thought that one fine day... “Andrei is no good,” he decided. - Nobody, nobody should know about this. I have to do it myself...” His shoulders shuddered, as if in a chill, he had no idea what or how he would “do it himself,” but he already knew that no one would ask for a favor. “Or maybe the old man was lying? - a saving thought appeared. -What could he have? He simply saw something himself (of course he saw it, on that visit he described what was happening in such a way that it left no doubt). While he was alive, that is, while the witness was alive, he certainly posed a threat, but now he is gone. Therefore, there is no threat.”

The man shook his head bitterly. He remembered that visit in great detail, as if it had happened yesterday. He was then surprised to learn that the old man decided to visit him. I was slightly surprised, but didn’t even particularly bother myself with thoughts about why the old man needed to come here. “We’ll meet and he’ll explain.” So he thought then, not suspecting what surprise fate was preparing for him. What a monstrous surprise. After all, he actually managed to forget and only at night, in nightmares, saw Lydia. Waking up in a cold sweat, he quickly banished thoughts of her.

The old man then extended his hand to him with a smile, settled into a chair, the owner of the office began small talk, but the guest suddenly interrupted him. He stated his demands dryly and matter-of-factly. Then he got up and, while he was in prostration from what he had just heard, walked to the door, turned around and said seriously:

– And one more thing, young man, if you suddenly decide to get rid of me... my testimony, the signature on which is certified by a notary, is in a safe deposit box at the bank. So... I don’t recommend it, in a word.

Then, just as now, he could not come to his senses for a long time. And then... then I made a decision. And he paid regularly for several years.

They even became friends. Quite a strange friendship, considering the circumstances. Probably, they were brought together by a common secret, and also by what is commonly called kinship of souls. Basically, they're both bastards. When you know this about yourself, it is very unpleasant, but when your double is nearby, comforting thoughts come to mind that we are all not without sin and we are all under God...

One evening, when they were enjoying themselves by the fireplace, he decided to start a conversation with the old man. He tried to give both his voice and his words a certain irony, so that at any moment he could turn them into a joke. But the old man answered quite seriously:

– You have nothing to worry about. I took care of everything. If I die, by my own death, of course, the papers will be destroyed.

Now he too became serious, the feigned irony instantly disappeared.

- I believe you. And, to be honest, I’m even grateful to you, no matter how strange it sounds. But there are still accidents. No one is insured...

The old man laughed, at first quietly and sarcastically, then loudly, the peals of his laughter shaking the living room. The laughter stopped as suddenly as it began. The old man leaned forward and, looking into his eyes, said:

– I am a very careful person. And it is in your interests to make sure that no accident happens to me.

After that conversation, he even thought for some time about protecting the old man, but then dismissed this thought as crazy. The old man lived as a recluse, and the likelihood of an accident seemed negligible. And such excessive concern for the old man’s safety would seem suspicious to some and would not fail to arouse keen interest among his many enemies. “Or maybe there was no testimony? – he returned to the saving thought again. “The old man was just messing with my mind.” Or perhaps there were, but then he destroyed them, realizing that I was ready to continue to pay.” He even thought: “We were friends,” and he himself laughed at the absurdity of such a statement. It looks like he has no choice. If the papers are in the bank, they will soon be handed over to law enforcement agencies. And then...

“You should get a good lawyer,” he said very slowly.

He watched her, pretending to read a newspaper. He watched with a kind of disgusted detachment, as if he were watching a boring movie out of idleness. He noted everything: his plump figure, the network of wrinkles near his eyes, the skin on his chin that began to sag. All these are signs of lost youth... Now it was difficult to understand his madness, the wild, withering passion that gripped him at the sight of this woman. The passion that made him commit a crime, that crossed out his whole life, distorted, broke, destroyed.

The Moor has done his job Tatiana Polyakova

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Title: The Moor has done his job

About the book “The Moor did his job” Tatyana Polyakova

“The Moor Did His Job” is excellent light book for those who like to read detective stories. Tatyana Polyakova is well known as a very prolific writer in the detective genre. This novel will delight you not only with a good and unpredictable plot, but also with a pleasant love story.

So, the main characters are Larina’s sisters - Tatyana and Olga. Tatyana gets married, and her husband turns out to be one of the heirs of a wealthy collector. There are plenty of contenders for the inheritance; they are all gathered in a mansion in the middle of a dense forest. The curious Olga goes there with her sister.

In this big house, surrounded by picturesque nature, a series of mysterious murders occur. One after another, the heirs die under mysterious circumstances. In addition, it turns out that the collector himself did not die of his own free will. Olga Larina undertakes to investigate the crimes. The situation is further aggravated by the fact that many years ago a terrible double murder took place in these parts.
But fearless Olga is not afraid of danger. Her intelligence, ingenuity and curiosity help bring the criminal to light. But her epiphany, unfortunately, comes when she falls into the killer’s trap. It would seem that there is no hope of salvation. Unless a certain Kirill can help...

“The Moor Did His Job” is not just a wonderful detective story. This is also good book about love. It has a heroine who is interesting to watch, and a hero who is an unsociable handsome man, gloomy and mysterious. He is a mixture of James Bond and Indiana Jones. You can't help but like such men. However, at first, strong hostility flares up between the characters, which then radically changes to an irresistible attraction.

“The Moor Did His Thing” is a light and relaxed novel. Tatyana Polyakova holds the intrigue well, skillfully confuses and reveals the mystery of the murders only at the very end of the detective story.

The work leaves a very pleasant impression; it is an excellent read for the road, not boring and relaxing.

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