Grigory Borzenko Jack the Ripper from Flint The third story in the Flint Detective series

Grigory Borzenko
Jack the Ripper from Flint
The third story in the Flint Detective series

Episode one
The waves splashed steadily and leisurely on the shore. Paul Thomson lazily glanced at the float swinging on the water surface, waiting for the desired moment when it would quickly go under the water.
He loved fishing not only because of the desire to catch more fish for fishing or for frying. This is what many fishermen fish for. In addition, he liked the process of fishing. The mystery of unity with nature. It really was like some kind of fairy tale. There is silence all around, picturesque nature, fresh water, birdsong and a breath of fresh breeze. It is impossible not to call such moments blissful. They really are what they talk about as the best moments of life.
Someone, for such wonderful sensations, spends a lot of money, buys expensive tourist packages, travels three-nine lands to admire the Niagara Falls, the pyramids in the deserts, the mountain plateaus in Colorado, familiar to everyone from cowboy films, thousand-ton eucalyptus trees, the endless expanses of the Amazon and other wonders of nature. Niagara and the Amazon, this is, of course, good, Paul thought. But you can not spend money and admire the equally beautiful nature here, at home, in his native Flint, a small town located in North Wales, Great Britain.
Flint was located on the shore of a bay that was rapidly growing into the ocean. People at all times tried to build their cities and homes on the shores of lakes, rivers, seas and oceans. The shore, according to Paul, can never be a suburb anywhere. The shore is something that always attracts people. Beckons like a magnet.
This also applied to Flint. On the city shore there were many picturesque parks and small forests, reminiscent of a real wild forest. Sometimes with dense thickets, or even impassable wilds.
It was in these places that Paul loved to fish. He liked the relative privacy. No, it was not completely deserted here. Here, of course, there were paths along which people walked. But here there were disproportionately fewer walkers than in parks located closer to the center of the town.
Our fisherman especially liked this solitude and the silence that reigned around. She made it possible to indulge in dreams and thoughts. True, his thoughts were sometimes not so cheerful. Old age has already struck, retirement age has arrived.
Actually, Paul was an optimist. Now, indulging in thoughts and dreams, while fishing, or in the hour of insomnia at night, he was making plans for the future, thinking about what to do in the near future. What to do with yourself. Yes, so that you can make money. After all, during his entire previous life, he, by and large, never accumulated them. This embarrassed and upset him greatly. It seems that he was not lazy. He loved his work and always did it conscientiously. It would seem that he worked honestly all his life, tirelessly. But... Now old age came, and he, in fact, had no personal savings, what people usually save for a rainy day...
And there was old age ahead... Now he is still vigorous. And he can catch fish for his own table, and go to the store to buy something. This is also not a problem. But the years go by... Early old age will be replaced by deep old age... What will happen when, God forbid, your legs give out? When will it be impossible to go not only fishing, but also to the store?
With particular horror, he imagined the moment when his meager savings would end. And sooner or later they will end... How will he have to live if he doesn’t have money to buy even the most necessary things? I'm eating! A piece of bread! True, there will be a pension. But, if he doesn’t have enough of it even now, and his expenses exceed his profits, then what can we say about those years when the purchase of medicines and other expenses will be added to the waste?!
These are the gloomy thoughts that overwhelmed the hero of our story, while he was sitting on the shore of the bay, fishing with a fishing rod in his hand.
The sun rose higher and higher above the horizon, and fish, albeit little by little, were still caught. Silence still reigned around, birds sang, waves splashed. All was good. You just need to drive away gloomy thoughts and everything will be fine!
The time came when he felt that he had a desire to fulfill natural needs. It wouldn’t hurt to go into the bushes, get some solitude, as they say, go for a big trip. It's an everyday matter. Therefore, he left the fishing rods, moved away from the shore, went deeper into the thickets of trees and bushes, chose a convenient place and began to relieve himself.
It was at this time that he heard men's voices approaching. Of course, he didn’t want anyone to see him in such an indecent form. But the process, as they say, had just begun to take place, and the last thing the person who wanted to relieve himself wanted to do was interrupt it. Hoping that the dense thickets would remain a good shelter for him, and that the men would pass by without noticing him, he decided to sit back and remain silent in his closed little world.
But it was at this time that he heard these people stop, and there were rustling noises, as if someone nearby, very close to him, began to dig the ground. And at the same time, a muffled, quiet male voice was heard. Someone was clearly speaking furtively, with the desire not to be heard.
“You shouldn’t, Jones, come up with this stupid, almost childish fun of burying money in the ground.” Probably, as a child, you read books about pirate treasures and treasures that they buried on deserted islands?
- I haven’t read anything! – An equally muffled voice was heard in response. This man also did not want to speak loudly. From the way he was breathing heavily and speaking with pauses, it was clear that he was both talking and doing some kind of work. But apparently he is digging a hole. “I’m just smarter and more prudent than you.” I try to simulate a possible situation, and try to foresee everything in advance in order to avoid the irreparable. After all, there is no guarantee that old woman Molly Porter will sooner or later run out of patience, and she will write a statement to the cops that Jones Ryder and Matthew Phillips, blackmailing her, constantly milk her, luring out considerable sums of money. The cops could come to our house and find this money.
These bloodhounds know how to dig into the ground with their noses. Believe me! I know them! No matter how cleverly we hide, they will find a hiding place in the most remote corners of the house. And here... Here the place is quiet, secluded... Almost no one walks here. And if they do pass, they simply stroll leisurely. In this place, no one would even think of rummaging around and looking for something.
At first, Paul planned that when he finished his work, even if passersby remained somewhere nearby, he would leave the thicket and follow to the shore, to his fishing rods, which were not visible from this place. Now he realized that he had heard so much, and how important and secret, that it was better for him to remain in his place and not give away his presence until both unexpected visitors had left. He understood that he had become aware of the secret of the crime, and the fact that he was in possession of this secret could become fatal for him. What if these two types, with extremely unpleasant and rude voices, turn out to be not only dirty blackmailers and extortionists, but also murderers? If Paul gave himself away right now, they would understand that he must have heard what they were talking about. To be sure that a random witness will not say too much, they may well decide to eliminate this annoying eyewitness to their crime.
Feeling his heart begin to beat more and more loudly in his chest with excitement, Paul became quiet, literally trying not to breathe so as not to be heard.
But at the same time, driven by curiosity, he looked closer, trying to see something between the branches of the bush. Although the branches and leaves covered almost everything, he still noticed two men under a thick branchy tree, located away from the walking paths, in the depths of the forest. They used a folding sapper shovel to dig a hole, taking turns replacing each other. Next to them stood a large wicker basket. The kind that mushroom pickers usually take with them when going on a so-called quiet hunt.
To get a better look, Paul leaned his whole body forward. His body's center of gravity shifted slightly forward, and he instinctively moved his right leg forward. To keep your balance. Unfortunately, there was a piece of a small dry branch on the ground next to my foot. Totally short and tiny piece! But this was enough for the crack of a breaking dry branch to sound in the ringing silence like a pistol shot! In any case, that’s exactly what it seemed to the frightened Paul. He froze completely in a daze, anticipating something terrible.
Both diggers, as if by magic, instantly stopped working and froze, listening.
Fortunately for Paul, it was at this time, not far from him, for no apparent reason, that a bird suddenly took off, which until that time had in no way betrayed its presence. The noise made by the flapping of her wings pushed into the background that quiet and timid crack, the cause of which was Paul's awkward movement.
Both intruders remained motionless for some time, listening and looking around. But, not seeing anything suspicious, and, most importantly, not hearing anything more than the slight sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves, and deciding that the cause of their fright was only the bird and nothing more, they completed their task.
One of them took a bundle from the bottom of the basket, placed it at the bottom of the hole, and immediately covered it with earth. Breaking, as they say, is not building. The same applies to digging holes. In order to dig and lift the earth up, both effort and time were required. And it took less than a minute to fill the hole and throw dry leaves and twigs on top for camouflage.
Having looked around, making sure that everything was done well and nothing caught the eye, one of the men folded a small sapper shovel in half, put it on the bottom of the basket, and covered it with a piece of fabric.
- It is done! - He said in a hoarse but satisfied voice. – You and I have our own bank. More reliable than HSBC or anyone else!
- Have a nice stay! Our dear money! – The second one added jokingly. - Lie here quietly for now. Bask yourself in the warm earth. When the time is right, we will come back for you.
With these words, both left.
Paul sat in his hiding place for a long time, afraid to leave it.
A lot of time passed, and he realized that the villains had left, and there was no logic in them returning back now. Realizing that the danger had passed, Paul left his usual place and hurried to the shore, to his fishing rods. Now he mentally praised himself for his foresight, for moving away from the shore. So far away that the two couldn't see the fishing rods. If, as they were leaving, they had noticed them, and had not found the fisherman near them, then, without a doubt, they would have begun to look for him. Paul was scared by the thought of what would happen if they found him...
Even now he was alarmed by the fact that by getting involved in this matter, he was stepping onto the path of risk and danger. He, always a quiet, calm and law-abiding person, could now come into contact with the world of crime. A dark, unpleasant and dangerous world. A world that can bring not only big money, but also huge problems and troubles...
But Paul imagined what exactly was there, in the package, at the bottom of the hole, under the tree, and he understood that he would not be able to pass by such a gift of fate...
That money attracted Paul with incredible force! He, who had lived in poverty all his life, living, as they say, from bread to water, and not seeing any financial prospects in the future, now had the opportunity to have good money for a rainy day. He did not yet know how much money was hidden under the tree, but he mentally understood that there must be a considerable sum there. After all, he heard the name Molly Porter!
Paul couldn't help but hear that name! Just recently, this surname was on the lips of all Flint residents! This was most likely due to envy. Everyone expressed not so much condolences over the untimely death of Mrs. Porter's husband, a successful businessman, as envious comments about the fact that the multimillion-dollar inheritance of a well-known businessman in Flint was now completely inherited by this lady. Which until now was nothing special. Her husband was a patron of the arts and philanthropist, financing many projects to improve his hometown.
Mrs. Porter, having come into possession of the inheritance, not only closed this charity shop, but also began to lead a very modest and secretive lifestyle. Everyone was surprised that with such millions she could afford many joys, pleasures, servants and the like. But she, on the contrary, fired many, leaving only a maid, and a couple of people who managed the housework.
Paul didn’t know, didn’t guess, and, incidentally, didn’t want to know what exactly these two were using to blackmail the newly made millionaire. He knew one thing: she had a lot of money! It is not difficult to guess that the extortionists knew about this. It is clear that, blackmailing her, they would not demand a hundred or two pounds sterling from her. It doesn’t take a brain to guess that they asked her for a tidy sum! And this money could now be at Paul's disposal! Not sometime in the immeasurable distant future! And right now! This minute! And for this you didn’t have to do anything special, difficult or impossible! All you have to do is go to the tree, dig up the package, and the money will be with him!
The more time passed, the longer Thomson thought, the more clearly he realized that no force would henceforth keep him from going to the coveted tree and from doing what he wanted to do now more than anything in the world!!!
Realizing that no fishing suited his mind anymore, Paul wrapped up his fishing rods and put his luggage in his backpack, but, of course, he didn’t think about heading home right away. He looked around again and again and listened. Nothing suspicious is seen or heard. He understood that even if one of the rare passers-by who sometimes walks in this remote place of Flint Forest passed by, he would not notice Paul. After all, the tree under which the blackmailers hid their treasure is located far from the usual well-trodden walking paths.
The only danger would be these two, who might unexpectedly return to their hiding place. Consoling himself that this shouldn't happen, Paul stealthily walked towards the tree. And although he reassured himself again and again that there was no and there could be no reason for these two to return back, he still felt how with every step the heart in his chest was beating stronger and stronger with excitement.
He put his backpack on the ground, found a piece of a tree branch, which he used as a shovel, and began to dig. Two feelings simultaneously possessed him. And the excitement that increased and took possession of him more and more. And extraordinary embarrassment and a feeling that all this could end badly for him. He perfectly remembered the stories that he learned from the books of his famous countryman James Hadley Chase. There, very often, cases were described when fabulous happiness fell on simpletons, in the form of the fact that they found a large sum of money. Or they took possession of them in other ways that, at first glance, were innocent and did not violate the law. But then it turned out that this, at first glance, seemingly no one’s money, turned out to be the property of cruel killers. And they then did not stop before killing again, just to cruelly teach and punish the one who coveted their goods.
Paul really didn't want to be in this situation. He consoled himself with the fact that he had a special occasion. That no one will ever find out that it was he who became an involuntary witness to the secret of the treasure, and it was he who took possession of it. And if there are no, and there cannot be, witnesses, then no one will ever know about his, Paul’s, involvement in the disappearance of this money!
It was only by coincidence that he was able to spy on how these two hid the money. A huge amount! Such a coincidence happens only once in a lifetime, and not for everyone! Paul could not help but use such a gift of fate!
When our newly minted treasure hunter finally got to the package and took it in his hands, at that moment he remembered not Chase, but Robert Louis Stevenson, Rafael Sabbatini and other marine writers, authors of novels about pirates. Describing the enchanting moments when treasure hunters dig up a chest of pirate treasure from the depths of an uninhabited island. Little Paul, who in childhood, like boys all over the world, read such books, then terribly wanted to be in the place of the treasure hunter. Experience the pleasant feeling when your fingers are pleasantly caressed by the touch of gold coins, necklaces with diamonds, and other good things.
Now his childhood dream was really coming true. True, it was not gold and diamonds, but his fingers, trembling with excitement and passion, feverishly felt what was in the bag, and Paul, thrilled with overexcitement, realized that these were nothing more than thick wads of money! Lots of packs!
From happiness, he began to, figuratively speaking, “break the roof.” He really wanted right now, this very moment, to open the package and see what was inside! But Paul gathered the remnants of his will and character into his hands, mentally said to himself: “This cannot be done!”, put the bag in his backpack, tied it tightly, and put it on his shoulders. Once again looking around, not seeing anyone, he went out onto the path, and with a carefree gait, putting on a casual look on his face, he slowly followed to the exit from the forest...

Episode two
All the following days, Paul Thomson behaved, as they say, quieter than water, lower than the grass. He rarely even left the house so as not to attract unnecessary attention to himself. Although he passionately loved fishing, now he understood that not only would he not go fishing in the near future, but perhaps he would stop being interested in this activity altogether forever. And he won’t go to the place where everything happened, not only with a fishing rod, but even without it! If he ever walks along the shore of the bay again, then, of course, he will not reach that remote place. Now he has completely limited himself to walking, only occasionally going out to visit the store and buy groceries.
When he said “buy,” he, of course, used his old money reserves for this, in no way allowing himself to touch new bills. In the books of the same Chase, he more than once believed that in such cases the numbers of all banknotes could be rewritten and reported to the police. And as soon as he pays with at least one bill, he will immediately give himself away. He remembered that those two were real louts, rude and uncouth. It is unlikely that anyone in this matter could rewrite the banknote numbers. And even more so they. But such a precaution did not seem unnecessary to Thomson. He didn’t have any particular need to spend money urgently and a lot. He could well afford to quietly and peacefully continue to lead his previous lifestyle. But at the same time he will be warmed by the thought that he has ten thousand pounds stashed away for a rainy day! Yes! This is exactly the huge, fabulous, fabulous and astronomical amount that ended up in the package! Or rather, money for that amount! The thought of a comfortable old age warmed his soul and heart with a pleasant warmth.
The days passed, nervous tension subsided, everything was quiet and peaceful. In the soul of our hero the thought grew stronger and stronger that everything had turned out all right, that what had happened would remain a secret, that the tidy sum would remain with him, without any undesirable and untidy consequences for him...
...On this day, as always, he drank tea and looked through the latest press. This habit had been ingrained in him for a long time, and he did not change it. He liked to combine eating and drinking with reading newspapers. One complemented the other. That way he didn’t get bored, it was more fun for him.
By the same habit, he paid attention to the editorial pages, skipped, or rather skimmed, what was in the middle of the newspaper, and became animated again when he began to read the last pages. There were advertisements. He was especially interested in local advertisements, those that concerned his hometown. Sometimes he found there something that interested him personally. Or advertisements from people he knows. This gave them a reason to call them, inquire about their health, and ask how they were doing.
Now he didn't find anything special in the advertisement column. Until he saw a short text, after reading which his hands trembled. No, there was nothing scary and terrible that would foreshadow the revelation of his secret, and this is what he feared most on a subconscious level lately. But now Paul, having read just a couple of lines in a short ad, realized that this was exactly the kind of ad he had been waiting for all his life!
The text said that Mrs. Molly Porter was looking for a gardener! The plan in Paul's head appeared at lightning speed! He suddenly realized with sobering clarity that if he received this position, he would not limit himself to just working in the garden of the reclusive millionaire. Any other gardener can do this, but not him! Not Paul! A person who knows the secret of this lady. True, the very essence of the secret was not known to him. He did not know and did not guess what was the reason for the blackmail of this lady by two strangers. Then, unfortunately, they did not mention this in their conversation.
But even without this, he knew the main thing! The millionaire had a sin in her soul. And, apparently, a considerable one! If she quietly and meekly paid such considerable sums to the extortionists, it means that she had something to hide... If, thanks to the gardener’s work, Paul gains access to her house, then perhaps he himself will somehow be able to figure out the old woman’s secret. He will figure out how to do this later. As well as how to then use this secret for your own purposes. Perhaps he himself will blackmail the old woman and extort money from her. Since she is so pliable. After all, judging by the conversations of those crooks, these ten thousand are not the only ones they lured from her. Why doesn’t Paul take the initiative himself and start plucking the millionaire himself?
He had a chance to get a position as a gardener. And a considerable one! After all, he had considerable experience in caring for the garden and vegetable garden. It all started in childhood. Young Thomson's parents had not only a huge garden, but also a large vegetable garden adjacent to the house and garden. Then, in childhood and adolescence, in fact they, Paul and his two sisters and brother, were the main gardeners and vegetable gardeners in the house. They had so much work to do at home that sometimes, when he became a young man and got his first job, Paul hurried to production, rejoicing that at least there he would have a rest from endless and difficult domestic work!
Yeah... Parents clearly overdid it, trying to instill in their children a love of work through homework. But Paul was still grateful to them. He really grew up hardworking, was not afraid of work, and did everything he took on conscientiously.
And now he had no doubt that, using his many years of experience, he would easily cope with gardening work in the house of a rich old woman.
With a sinking heart and the knowledge that he was on the verge of big things, Paul dialed the phone number that was listed in the ad.

Episode three
Just recently, Paul Thomson, having retired, was thinking about finding at least some kind of work. If you had told him that he would find a quiet and peaceful job as a gardener, well paid, and that he would be dissatisfied, he would not have believed it. But that's exactly what happened. The joy that the mistress of the house accepted him as a gardener was short-lived. He was not happy with the fact that he was in the garden all the time and had practically no access to the entrance to the house. And it was there that he was drawn most of all. He understood that, being there, inside the house, he, as they say, would have access to the body. He will have the opportunity to see the hostess more often, remember what she does, who comes to her, and, most importantly, what and with whom she says. He understood that only through this would he be able to unravel the old woman’s secret. He won’t achieve this by picking around the beds and pruning trees and caring for the lawn and flowers.
The solution came by itself when he one day got into conversation with the maid. A middle-aged woman, about his age. They met. She introduced herself as Dorothy Ogden. She said that she works on her own, it’s hard for her, she can’t cope. Another worker is needed, which Dorothy hinted to the mistress about. But she doesn’t want to hear about it. This fact gave Paul the idea to offer his help to Dorothy. Just help! From the sincere heart! He is ready to do some particularly difficult work, for example, carrying heavy coolies with laundry for washing, just because, for thank you. Without asking for any payment for your work.
The embarrassed woman began to refuse, but Paul began to assure that his main work in the garden would not be affected by this. He would come early and leave later, and help Dorothy in his free time from his day job. In response to the shy maid’s refusals, Paul began to assure that even if the mistress noticed his help, she would not mind the fact that someone was doing work for free for which she would have to pay the second maid. Dorothy remembered how her mistress had grumbled about not wanting to pay extra wages where she could do without it, and realized that her future assistant might be right. The stingy old woman might actually keep quiet if she finds out that Paul is spending his personal time on helping, and does not demand payment.
Dorothy was a lonely woman. During a conversation with Paul, she learned that he also lives alone, alone, without a wife and children. This fact made her look at Thomson differently. It seemed to her that he asked to be her assistant not only for the sake of compassion and a desire to make her work easier. She regarded this as his timid and timid attempts to attract her attention. This fact inspired her! She felt like a girl in love who began to notice how a handsome boy began to look at her, and she wanted to respond to him with the same attention.
Naive Dorothy had no idea that Paul was now thinking about everything, but not about her. He imperceptibly, sometimes using only peripheral vision, examined the rooms, all the interior spaces, corridors and closets, remembering where and what stood, lay, and was located.
Pictures began to emerge in his head, which he then began to put together into puzzles. Not only in the evening before going to bed, but also while working in the garden, he thought, how could he use all this to his advantage? And I came up with...
He spent several nights on the Internet and read everything related to video surveillance systems and video recordings. Soon he knew, if not everything, then almost everything about it. He was a diligent student. He knew for sure why he needed all this, he understood that he could not do without this knowledge. That’s why he, like a sponge, greedily absorbed into himself, into his consciousness, everything he read about video surveillance systems.
The second step in his cunning plan was to visit stores that sell video surveillance systems. And, of course, buying what he needed.
The third step was the next, but probably the most important and difficult task: to install these systems in the house of the millionaire! And not just do the installation, but do it so that no one notices! Nobody! Even Dorothy! And there’s nothing to say about the millionaire!
It’s not hard to guess that our purposeful hero eventually achieved his goal!
Next in line is the next, fourth, point in the grandiose plan of the hero of our story. Main point!
There was only one thing left to do: wait for the moment until the video recorded something for which Paul had planned all this.
All that was left to do was wait!
And he began to wait...

Episode four
Paul Thomson thanked fate that a Great Adventure had burst into his life. It’s not just about the ten thousand dollars that lay quietly and peacefully in a hiding place in his house, and warmed his thoughts that now old age doesn’t scare him so much. He was also happy that life was now filled with meaning for him. Before that memorable incident, his life was boring and sluggish. Fishing and walks along the alleys of parks and forests in the vicinity of Flint were his only entertainment.
Now he clearly had no time to be bored. His life turned into a kind of stormy stream, where there were many things to do and worries, sensations and emotions. The main thing is emotions! Especially after he secretly installed hidden miniature, virtually invisible, CCTV cameras in his mistress’s house. There were more worries, which, although they took more time, brought an amazingly pleasant feeling of excitement! No hunting excitement! When a hunter, following the trail of an animal, goes into a frenzy. When he is more and more overwhelmed by the desire to achieve his goal, and in the end achieve what he wants! Take possession of a hunting trophy that you will be proud of later!
All day Paul worked quietly, peacefully, obediently and diligently in the garden, and in the evening, helping Dorothy with work inside the house, he tried to find convenient moments to quickly and quietly remove chips from hidden devices with video recordings already made during the day, and in their place put another one, new ones.
While Paul gave the impression with his entire appearance that he was helping Dorothy, she kept waiting for this shy, modest man to begin to show activity and make attempts to court her. The woman really wanted this modest and harmless help from him to grow into something more. She even tried to catch his eye more often so that he would have more reasons to talk to her.
Paul, on the contrary, was only upset and even infuriated. Now he wanted more time alone. To be able to secretly change the chips. Dorothy's ever-increasing insistence left him less time alone. This terribly infuriated our newly minted hunter. But he still caught the moments, made replacements, so that later, when he came home in the evening, had dinner, he immediately plunged into watching the videos.
This is where the main moment came in what he called the passion of the hunt. All people are curious. Everyone is interested in spying on someone, especially if he has no idea that someone is watching him.
Paul watched what he saw on the monitor screen with redoubled excitement. There was more than just curiosity here. There was self-interest here. Big, tempting! If Paul sees on the screen what he is so eager to see, then he will know even more about the secret of the millionaire! He will have even more opportunities and desires to reach out to her money...
Sometimes Paul spent almost half the night watching the recordings. He very often used the functions of accelerated viewing of video recordings when there was nothing interesting on the screen. Mostly, what he saw was the sight of empty rooms. If anyone was caught on camera, it was either Dorothy, who was running the house, or Mrs. Porter. When the hostess appeared on the screen, Paul felt a revival in his soul. He kept expecting that she would now begin to do something that would either shed light on her secret, or would serve as other material compromising her, which Paul would then use to his advantage.
Alas, nothing even close to this was observed. The millionaire led a secluded and boring lifestyle. Each time, after another unsuccessful viewing of the video, Paul cursed more and more often, and became convinced that all his tricks and ideas were in vain. He reproached himself for the fact that, most likely, he had wasted his money on purchasing video equipment, which, by and large, would not give him anything. The endless view of empty rooms and the eternally bored lady irritated him more and more. Sometimes, however, either the postman or the locksmith came. But these were one-time and meek visits that were not related to Paul’s intended business, and clearly did not bring him any closer to his intended goal.
And then one day, while watching the video, Paul saw something unusual! A guest has arrived to the hostess! Paul recognized him immediately! This was one of the two extortionists whom Thomson saw then, in the forest, when they were burying the money they received from the millionaire into the ground!
Paul's heart didn't just beat faster. It seemed to him that it was going to jump out of his chest! The emotional upsurge of the hero of our story was so strong. He immediately realized that now he could see or hear what was most important, for the sake of which he had conceived this whole scam. That's why I adopted covert video surveillance equipment. Paul made a noise on his device, and everyone listened.
“I don’t want to quarrel with you,” the hostess’s voice sounded very excited. It was clear that she was trying to suppress the emotions raging within her. “But without Oscar, who used to manage things skillfully, they fell into disrepair. I'm afraid that from now on I won't be able to pay you what you ask...
The guest was not embarrassed by this answer. On the contrary, he just grinned maliciously, leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and spoke in an ironic voice.
- I'm afraid, madam, that you have no other choice. Mr. Oscar Porter left you millions as an inheritance. Millions! I think you will somehow find an opportunity to carve out from this huge amount the little that we ask of you. Otherwise...
“Let’s not talk about what might happen,” the hostess cut him off mid-sentence. “I said that I don’t want to quarrel with you.” To show my affection for you, I’m even ready to treat you to coffee. Dorothy!
The hostess rang the bell standing nearby on the coffee table.
Soon a maid appeared on the threshold.
- Dorothy! Please make us two coffees. Go! We will wait. – And then she turned to the guest. – Dorothy knows how to brew excellent coffee.
- Thank you, madam, but the last thing I think about is coffee. As you understand, I am interested in something completely different...
- Yes Yes! I understand! But you also understand me...
The hostess got up and began to walk back and forth about the room, measuring it with nervous steps.
- We need to somehow agree... Things are really bad... I won’t be able to immediately take the amount you’re asking for. And in cash too...
The hostess was clearly worried. She began adjusting the objects on the mantelpiece, then mindlessly shoving the objects on the coffee table from place to place. It was clear that she wanted to occupy her hands with something. This did not surprise the guest. He was not a psychologist, but he knew that this is what many people do when they are worried.
- I understand everything, Mrs. Porter. But that's your problem. You must solve them yourself. I need something completely different. And you know exactly what.
At this time Dorothy came into the room. In her hands was a small tray with two cups of coffee on it.
- Here comes the coffee! – The hostess said in a cheerful voice, almost solemnly, immediately heading towards the maid. - Let me help you! You're smart, Dorothy! Your coffee is wonderful!
She continued to speak, but at this time her hands were working very quickly. She took one cup and placed it on the table, but not directly in front of the guest, but slightly to the side. Then she reached for the second cup. But Dorothy at that time had already taken the cup herself and wanted to put it on the table in front of the place where the hostess was sitting at the time she ordered coffee. But the lady literally on the move grabbed the cup from the maid’s hands and put it in the place where she had planned to put it.
- Thank you, Dorothy! Sincere thanks! Look what a wonderful employee I have! Moreover, she is not entangled, as they say, by marital ties. Look how beautiful she is! Perhaps among your friends there is a gentleman who is also bored from loneliness? Maybe they could find family happiness together?
- What are you saying, madam? – Dorothy was embarrassed. - Do not need anything! I can go?
- Yes, Dorothy. Go. Thank you!
Molly sat down in a chair and picked up a cup.
- Let's try coffee. I want you to see that she really does make fancy coffee! And I wasn’t kidding about Dorothy’s loneliness either. She really is alone. I feel sorry for her... Perhaps among your friends there is a lonely man of her age who could brighten up her loneliness?
“Sorry, madam,” the guest said dissatisfiedly. A note of irritability began to appear in his voice. “But I told you that not only am I not interested in coffee, but also in your maid!” If you…
- There is no need to speak to me in the language of an ultimatum! – The hostess interrupted him. “You see that I want to make friends with you.” It sounds ridiculous, but I really want to resolve the situation peacefully. I'm not saying that I won't pay you at all. It will simply be difficult for me to release the entire amount at once. The one you want. We can break it down into several parts. I can pay in smaller amounts. We will now discuss which ones exactly. But only after we drink coffee! I categorically insist on this! It's cooling down! I fall silent and won’t utter a single word until we finish this wonderful coffee!
The hostess's initial words, spoken at the very beginning of their conversation, greatly alarmed the guest. He perceived her reasoning that things were bad for her now as her final and irrevocable refusal to pay the required amount. Of course, he didn’t want to lose such a stable source of income. Therefore, he received the last phrase of the millionaire with great enthusiasm. It is clear that everyone wants to have everything at once. But he also understood that even smaller, but stable amounts received from the rich woman would suit him and his companion quite well!
Therefore, now he, clearly cheerful, followed the example of his interlocutor, who seemed to be thinking about nothing but coffee at that moment, and began to drink his drink in the same way.
Seeing that the guest supported her in their joint drinking of coffee, she took another savory sip, sat back in her chair with satisfaction and looked up dreamily.
“The most wonderful coffee...” she whispered. - Most wonderful...
Her interlocutor, apparently, was not such a subtle connoisseur of this exquisite drink. He almost drank his coffee in one gulp, put an empty cup on the coffee table, and began to glare at the hostess with an impatient gaze. Precisely impatient. We can all now recall fragments from our favorite movies, when one interlocutor tried to convey some sensible thought to his friend, but he did not listen to him, only automatically and regularly repeating the same phrase: “When will we divide our money? !”
So Mrs. Porter’s guest was now in such a hurry, wanting to quickly hear what he wanted to hear now more than anything else. Apparently, the hostess finally understood this. That’s why she spoke slowly, slowly drawing out her words, continuing to take small sips of coffee.
- It will be difficult for me to find five thousand right away now... But three thousand is possible... I think I will try to collect this amount by tomorrow. No! Let's still meet after tomorrow to be sure. In two days I will definitely arrange everything. I really want to resolve everything quietly and peacefully... Very quietly...
What was said completely satisfied the guest. He clearly cheered up.
- Yes, we will be quiet. If you really hold back your communications, then we will...
“We agreed that we wouldn’t stutter about the past anymore!” I said it! Day after tomorrow! At the same time! What else do you want?!
Now there were notes of irritation in the hostess’s voice. The guest realized that he had heard the main thing, and his unnecessary chatter could only hinder the matter. He stood up.
- Okay, Ms. Porter. All clear. We will keep our word. I hope you do too. See you the day after tomorrow!
And the guest left with a decisive step.
Paul did not see or hear anything else interesting in the video recording. However, more was not required. He learned not just a lot, but a lot. Now it was only necessary to figure out how to use such valuable information with the greatest benefit.
Looking at his watch and noticing that it was already two in the morning, Paul hid the chip with such a valuable video recording more securely, took a shower, and fell into bed.
But sleep did not come to him for a long time. He lay there and thought: what to do?

Episode five
While working in the garden, Paul was so engrossed in his work that he did not notice what was happening in the courtyard of the house, in front of the entrance to the house. Now he caught himself thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to sometimes glance at the entrance to the house. Remember who comes to the hostess. After all, Paul missed the arrival of the extortionist. If it weren't for the video recording, he wouldn't have known that he came at all.
Needless to say, two days later, when the stranger was again supposed to come to the mistress’s house at the appointed time, Paul chose a place to work in the garden so that the entrance to the house could be better seen from there. He kept waiting for him to come.
Much to his surprise, no one came to the lady that day...
This greatly surprised our hero. He assumed that the lady could have left the house under some far-fetched pretext, so as not to meet with the extortionist. But Paul could not have imagined that he would not come himself, knowing that three thousand pounds were waiting for him. He, of course, certainly had to come to the meeting! Definitely! Why didn't he come?!
Some incomprehensible anxiety began to grow in Paul’s soul. He understood that something was wrong here! That events are not proceeding as they should according to the logic of events! Why? What's behind this? What failure occurred? What is it?
Needless to say, that evening Thomson was more worried than ever, collecting chips from surveillance cameras. And even more so, he was more attentive when he watched the video late in the evening and at night. He assumed that the extortionist could have entered the house through another, secret entrance that Paul did not know about. Since the lady was at home all day, he certainly had to appear! Thomson had no doubt that the secret visit of a stranger would be captured on video! Alas... He never appeared on any of the recordings...
The whole next day the gardener looked at the area in front of the entrance to the house, believing that today the late visitor would still appear. Alas, he was not there today either...
On the way home, Paul managed to buy newspapers, and during dinner he began to skim through the pages. It cannot be said that his premonition told him something. He always read the latest press; this activity was familiar and ordinary to him. But today he looked through all the headings with special attention. Including criminal...
His instincts really didn't let him down. Before he could even begin to read the short message, his gaze fell on the words “Jones Rider”! He immediately remembered the conversation of the bandits there in the forest, when they were burying the money they received from the millionaire into the ground. Paul immediately realized that this was going to be about one of these rogues, so he immediately began to read the text avidly.
It literally read the following: “Yesterday morning Mr. Jones Ryder was found at home without signs of life. An autopsy showed that he was poisoned. Moreover, it is a slow-acting poison. Which kills its victim within a day, or even two, after it enters the victim’s body. Flint police are asking residents who have seen Mr. Ryder in the last two to three days to come forward." Next was the phone number of the police station.
What he read made Paul freeze. He froze for several minutes, not moving, and literally not breathing. He immediately realized what had happened. He remembered how persistently the millionaire invited her guest to drink coffee with her. Thomson had little doubt that there was poison in Ryder's cup!
But how did he get there?! Is modest, shy, meek and kind Dorothy really involved in this? Paul had a hard time believing this. And to be completely honest, he didn’t believe in it at all! Most likely, the millionaire is tired of this rogue constantly and regularly blackmailing her, defrauding her of more and more amounts of money. So she decided to put an end to it. With the help of poison. But when did the old witch manage to add poison to the cup? After all, Dorothy made the coffee. And she brought the cafe to the hostess and her guest!
And then Paul remembered that on the recording of that day the hostess did something that she had never done before! She always sat, waiting for the maid to place the coffee in front of her. Often she sat motionless, going about her usual business, and did not even turn her head towards Dorothy or say a word of gratitude to her. And then suddenly she rushed towards her! Started helping the maid! What is it for?!
Paul jumped up, realizing that he had grabbed the tip of a thread leading to some secret. He immediately took out that special chip from its hiding place and again began watching the video recording of the fateful evening. Now looking more closely at the screen, and trying not to miss a single, even the smallest, detail.
Only now did Paul realize the difference in how much can change when you look at the same events more carefully. How much he has now seen that upon first viewing did not arouse the slightest suspicion in him. Then it seemed to him that the lady was simply walking around the room, and out of excitement, in order to occupy her hands with something, she was adjusting either figurines or boxes standing on the fireplace, chest of drawers, or table. Now Paul, having looked closely, noticed with horror how Molly, pretending to straighten the box, with a quick and imperceptible movement, deftly took something from the box standing on the fireplace!
Understanding what was happening and what he was witnessing, Paul, sweating from tension and excitement, enlarged the image, brought it closer, focusing on the place where the right hand was captured, adjusting the box. Now the enlarged image was not so clear, more blurry. But it was also clear from it how the lady’s fingers quickly took out a white circle from the box, very similar to an ordinary pill from a pharmacy, and just as quickly clutched it in her palm!
Although everything was already clear, to be completely convinced, Paul watched it all in slow motion. And then frame by frame! There was no doubt! She took a pre-prepared poison pill from the box, which she now had to quietly slip into the guest’s cup.
It is not difficult to guess which fragment of the recording Paul immediately began to look at. Yes you are right! Exactly the one when the millionaire rushed towards Dorothy and took the first cup of coffee from her hands.
Paul had no doubt that he would now see what he simply had to see!
This time the owner was in such a position in front of the video eye that the actions of her hands were not as clearly visible as in the case when she took out the tablet. But, despite this, even now, after Paul greatly enlarged the image of the hostess’s hand and turned on the slowest viewing speed, it was noticeable how a white round piece fell from her palm, which she was holding over the cup, into the vessel...
Paul jumped up and began to nervously pace around the room. Feelings overwhelmed him. When planning this whole video surveillance story, he hoped to find out the former secret of the millionaire. The one that these two crooks used to blackmail her. Yes, so far he has not been able to find out this secret. But he has another! Perhaps even more important than the first! From that moment on, Paul became aware of another secret of the old woman! Now he has a video recording, important material evidence of the crime of the quiet and peaceful Mrs. Molly Porter! A material document confirming that the grandmother “God’s dandelion” is in fact a poisoner! Killer! Yes! The real killer! Killed a man! Jones Ryder!
Paul hurried to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, took out a can of beer, opened it and began to drink quickly and greedily, trying to wet his throat, which was dry from excitement.
Now he, like those two, has something with which he can henceforth blackmail the millionaire! Now, not to them, but to him, Paul Thomson, she can give tidy sums of money! Ten or five, or at least three thousand pounds! But now he will constantly lure them from her!
Paul didn't sleep that night. He understood that from that day his life would change forever and irrevocably!

Episode six
- What did you want, Paul? I didn't call you. You must perform your duties in the garden during this time.
Molly Porter sounded almost annoyed. And although Paul did not distract her from the important matter, because she was just sitting in a chair and knitting, she was still dissatisfied that someone dared to disturb her solitude and peace.
- Please forgive me, madam. – Thomson’s voice was an example of humility and complaisance. “But you didn’t look at your watch.” My working day is over. I did all the work diligently and conscientiously. As always. That’s why I allowed myself to disturb you in my personal time.
- But you forgot about my personal time! “The hostess emphasized the word “mine.” – At the time when I want to be alone with myself, I want to be alone with myself. And I have a negative attitude towards any violation of my peace of mind. And if you, praising your diligence during work, hint that I should raise your wages for your labor, then I will say that your wages are already quite high. Therefore, there can be no talk about this!
- Sorry, madam, but I didn’t even think about raising the issue of increasing wages. Everything suits me, I'm happy with everything. Thank you sincerely for entrusting me with your garden. And I try to justify your trust. I wanted to tell you something on a completely different matter. Will you allow it?
The gift of a psychologist was lost in Paul. He knew how to find the right words. If he had now said, “I would like to ask you,” then the hostess would definitely not have started talking to him, citing being busy. If someone is going to ask her for something, then it is better to immediately nip this attempt in the bud, and not give him the opportunity to even open his mouth. To not ask for anything. But the wise phrase “I wanted to tell you” not only did not alert her, but, on the contrary, aroused curiosity. And what is he going to tell her? This began to pique her slight interest.
- Speak.
Even this one word from the hostess was enough for Paul to start saying what he had planned in advance.
- Do not misunderstand me. I won't talk about myself. My friend just admitted to me that he has a secret, but doesn’t know what to do with it. He asked me for advice. And I must admit, I don’t know what to answer him. Since it concerns his relationship with his mistress, I decided to ask you for advice. What would you do in this situation? I know you, madam, as an intelligent and wise woman. Perhaps you can suggest something important and useful that I can then pass on to him. Can you give me some advice, madam? Just advice!
- Yes, you say it already, for God’s sake! What do you want around the bush!
The old woman continued to knit without raising her head or looking at the guest.
- Thank you, madam! Here's his story! I'll be brief! So here it is. My friend said that he and his friend knew some terrible secret of its owner. She’s so scary, and she wants people to know about her so much, that she agrees to pay them ten thousand pounds each if they don’t tell anyone. Everything went quietly and peacefully; this course of events suited all three. But one day the lady decided to leave the game, and they decided to eliminate my friend’s friend. The person she gave money to before. To avoid doing this again, his mistress came up with nothing better than to poison my friend’s friend...
The whole time Paul was talking, he kept his eyes on Molly. She continued to knit without raising her eyes. But the narrator’s inquisitive gaze did not escape the fact that with each new word he said, the movement of the knitter’s fingers became slower and slower...
- Now my friend doesn’t know what to do. Previously, he owned one of his mistress's secrets, and she paid ten thousand pounds so that her friend would not divulge her secret. Now he owns two secrets of his mistress at once! If so, he reasons, then he can now ask his mistress for double the amount! For keeping two secrets at once! She says, I’ll tell her that if occasionally, well, say, once every three months, or once every six months, she pays me double the price, that is, twenty thousand, then he will be silent like a fish! Will behave diligently, quietly and humbly. Just pruning the garden, and nothing more! He is also a gardener. As I. I told him that I didn't know what to advise him. What do you think, madam? What could I tell him?
The knitter's fingers slowed down so much that they soon froze completely motionless. Molly slowly understood the eyes and looked intently at the one who just a minute ago seemed to her like a small insect. A naive simpleton who in this life knows nothing but how to hold pruners for pruning trees and shovels for fluffing up the ground. Now she saw a formidable opponent in front of her. So formidable that he could bring her disproportionately more trouble than the one whom she sent to a well-known address a few days ago. At that hour, she naively believed that this would be the end of her troubles. Now a terrible truth was revealed to her. From that moment on, her troubles multiplied many times over.
- Don't misunderstand me, madam. “Paul’s voice was like the bleating of an innocent lamb, and his face was a model of humility and innocence. “I tried to convince him not to quarrel with his mistress.” To which he was sincerely surprised. He says, wouldn’t I be a fool if I don’t take advantage of the fact that I know that my mistress is a murderer?! Poisoner! She used poison, which takes effect a day or two after the deadly potion enters the victim’s body. She thought that this would avert suspicion from herself. But he has undeniable, solid evidence of her crime. So hard that they will be damning evidence for her in court! He's sure he has it in his fist! And she simply has no choice but to agree to his terms. There is no other way... No...
Paul paused, giving her time and opportunity to think.
She was silent too. This news was very scary for her. It took time to understand everything.
But Paul also understood that he needed to make the most of such a favorable moment and the confusion of his victim. That's why I decided to continue.
- I never answered anything meaningful to my friend. I only assured him that he should not quarrel with his mistress. I even offered my help. I say, let your mistress give the money to me, and I will give it to you. So that between you there would be no transfer of money. He perked up and came up with an even better idea. He says my lady knows your lady. I can ask mine to give the money to your lady. She handed them to you, and you, Paul, will finally hand them to me! At first glance, everything is abstruse and confusing, but in fact everything is simple and ingenious! In this matter, you and I will have absolutely nothing to do with it! We will only help our friends. I am my friend, and you are your friend. Everything looks harmless, peaceful, quiet and orderly. And no poisons are needed...
With these words, Paul walked up to the box with the intention of taking the white pill from it. But the box turned out to be empty...
- ABOUT! Where are the cute-looking white pills?! – He was sincerely surprised. - However, I’m wrong. Why keep evidence in the house that incriminates the poisoner? It is understood that the poison had to be thrown away immediately after the job was done. Cover your tracks, as they say. But, alas, they remained... Very clear traces... Very...
Paul headed for the door
- So what should I tell my friend, madam? What should I tell him? What advice will you give him?
Moly was silent. She just glared at her gardener, and from now on at her enemy, with a hateful gaze.
- I understand that you need to think. I'll tell him that you told him to come the day after tomorrow. At the same time. Well, if so, then of course I'll come in. Maybe by then you will have time to contact my friend’s owner. And she will transfer money for him through you. If so, then I will gladly take them from you and take them to a friend. Friends need to be helped out. Goodbye, madam. I'll come by the day after tomorrow.
And already at the door Paul stopped and added.
- Just don’t offer me a cup of coffee when you meet me. I've never liked coffee. Especially with poison. I usually only drink tea...
And with these words he closed the door behind him.

Episode seven
Outside the window it was already late evening, which imperceptibly turned into night when Paul, having returned from work and having dealt with all his affairs, finally found time for dinner. He had just cooked sausages and heated mashed potatoes in the microwave when there was a knock on the front door of his private home.
- Who did this difficult thing bring at such a late hour?! - He grumbled, putting a fork with a sausage on it, which he had already brought to his mouth, onto the plate.
Such a late visit worried the owner of the house, but did not alert him. He led a quiet and peaceful lifestyle, had no enemies, and did not expect tricks from anyone. It never occurred to him that trouble might be knocking at the door. He was sure that it was one of his friends or neighbors. It once happened that a neighbor appeared almost at midnight. She, you see, decided to fry something, and only now noticed that she had run out of vegetable oil. The desire to complete her plan and fry the cutlets took hold of her so much that she decided not to give up her idea, but simply go to her neighbor and ask him to pour some oil into her jar. Which is what she did then.
Now, walking to the front door and cursing, Paul was sure that something similar had happened this time.
He took off the chain, turned the handle, opened the lock, opened the door, and...
And he was stupefied with horror...
In front of him he saw the evilly grinning face of Matthew Philips...
Yes, exactly him! That second extortionist and blackmailer, whom he saw on that memorable day in the forest, when they, together with Jones Ryder, buried a bag of money for the millionaire!
At first, after the old woman poisoned Jones, Paul thought about his second accomplice. He wondered: where did he go? It is clear that they did everything together, it is quite obvious that Matthew knew about his friend's visit to Mrs. Porter. Of course, he also counted on his share of the money that they planned to get from the old woman! So where did he go?
At first this Matthew made Paul very uneasy. But, seeing that he did not show himself in any way, did not make himself known, Thomson began to naively assume that the death of a friend, and such a terrible one at that, frightened the rogue. That he decided to leave this dangerous business and no longer blackmail the insidious millionaire.
This gave Paul confidence, and with renewed energy he began, as they say, to milk the rich heiress of Mr. Oscar Porter’s fortune. Based on the further behavior of the blackmailed woman, Paul realized that she had guessed about the existence of a second blackmailer. So the cunning Paul tried on his role. He acted as if he were the friend of Jones, who had been poisoned by her, and now he was not blackmailing her, but as if he was engaged in a noble cause, avenging the death of his friend. He showed everyone by his behavior that he knew not only the fact of poisoning, but also the old woman’s old terrible secret. Believing that the lady had never seen the second blackmailer and did not know him by sight, Paul seemed to put on Matthew’s mask. Started to play his role.
And now Matthew Phillips, himself, personally, stood on the threshold of Paul Thomson’s house, and, grinning maliciously and cynically, drilled him with a piercing gaze. This look had it all! Everything! It was the look of the investigator, the judge, and the executioner rolled into one! From the very first moment it became clear that the night visitor knew everything! Everything!
The floor went cold... He remembered a scene from Dumas’s novel “The Three Musketeers,” where D’Artagnan and his friends came to Milady to punish her for her sins. D’Artagnan’s words “Madame, you must die” could now be read in the gaze of the current night visitor. Now Paul, like milady then, wanted to scream at the top of his lungs: “I’m still young! I don’t want to die!”, but the words got stuck in his throat, parched from horror and shock.
The night visitor was much taller, larger and stronger than the owner of the house. Paul looked up at the intruder and realized that the advantage was clearly not on his side.
The guest stepped into the house and closed the door behind him.
The next moment Matthew pulled out a knife.
Paul felt his legs begin to tremble. It seemed to him that he would not be able to stand it any longer and would fall. He was terribly afraid of knives. He watched crime action films, saw a lot of death, which is full of every film. It seemed to him that if, God forbid, he had, in some incredible way, found himself in the place of these victims, it would have been better if he had simply received a bullet in the temple. So that death is instantaneous and as painless as possible.
But when he saw someone stab his victim with a knife, or, even worse, cut his head, he would shrink into a ball and become numb with horror. It seemed to him that it was impossible to imagine a more painful and painful death. At such moments, sitting in the cinema and looking at this horror, Paul caught himself thinking that more than anything in the world he would not want to be in the place of this unfortunate man...
Alas, now all this has become not a cinematic fiction, but a reality... Now the worst nightmare that one can only imagine can be realized. Paul, white as chalk and numb with horror, prepared for the worst.
- So, you bitch decided to fool me and Jones? Shall we play our game with the old woman? Take over the business that Ryder and I came up with?
Matthew looked so angrily, his voice sounded so threatening, that if Paul wanted to say something in his defense now, he still would not be able to utter a single word. They would all get stuck in his fear-bound throat.
- I was watching you. I know everything. Let's not waste time. First, you will give me everything you lured from the old woman! All! Do you hear?! Everything! And just try to deceive me! You will severely regret this! I'll be keeping an eye on you! Behind your every move! Well! Let's! Go! Lead me to your hiding places!
Paul would have been glad to make at least some movement, but his legs did not obey him. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to take even a step.
- What are you doing?! – The man with a knife in his hand barked angrily. “Do you want me to hurt you now?!”
No matter how scared Paul was, he still realized that he needed to pull himself together and do something. He was aware that now, until the visitor received the money, he would not kill him. Just as I had no doubt that he would certainly do it as soon as he got what he wanted. It was absolutely necessary, and as quickly as possible, to come up with something! To not only save the current situation, but also your life! But what?!
Paul's brain was racing. We can all get confused in life, everyone can be paralyzed by fear. But, with all this, a sense of self-preservation is inherent in every person by nature. It's not just instinct! The basic instinct is not the instinct that we are all thinking about now, and which is known by the name of the popular movie with the participation of Sharon Stone. The basic and main instinct, with which all other instincts taken together cannot be compared, is the instinct of self-preservation. The desire to save your life! Which, as you know, is given to a person only once, and can never be repeated. In moments of real, imminent danger that threatens life, a person is able to show such ingenuity, agility, strength, everything that he is capable of, that in ordinary, peaceful and everyday life, he would not be able to realize even a hundredth, thousandth of what he can do. he proves capable in moments of danger.
Such a moment has now come for Paul. He thought hard: what to come up with?! How to get out of this amazingly dead-end, seemingly hopeless situation for him?!
- What are you, a bitch?! Don't you hear what I told you?!
And with these words, the guest pressed the tip of the knife blade so hard into Paul’s neck that just a little more, and the blade could have entered the unfortunate man’s body.
- Yes! Yes! I'm coming now! I... I hid this in the cellar... Where I store pickles, vegetables, seams... Let's go... I'll spend... The cellar in the courtyard of the house...
The gait of the unfortunate man was uncertain. He staggered as if drunk. But I tried to pull myself together. On the way, he took a candle, matches, keys, and led the guest into the yard.
The cellar was located at the back of the yard.
Paul took out the key, opened the padlock, opened the door, put the lock on the ground, a little to the side, and stepped inside the cellar.
Matthew followed his master relentlessly, holding his knife at the ready.
The faded light of the stars and the moon, although not very much, still at the very least illuminated everything that was in the upper part of the cellar. Along the walls of this small house there were barrels of pickles, racks with shelves that were filled to the ceiling with three-liter bottles. They contained cucumbers, tomatoes, and other vegetables and fruits preserved for the winter. No wonder Paul worked as a gardener. He also loved to grow fruits in his garden, which he then ate throughout the winter.
In the middle there was a large hatch that led down into the cellar itself. The basement, where it was always cool, where people usually store potatoes, beets, carrots and everything else that lasts longer in such cool conditions. Anyone who has lived all their life not in an apartment, but in a private house with a cellar, understands perfectly well that the main elements of the cellar are a dungeon dug deep into the ground, where it is always cool, and this allows this small underground room to be used as a kind of refrigerator.
This hatch resembled another door. But she seemed to be lying on the ground. It covered the entrance to the steps leading to the cellar, and then to the refrigerator itself.
Paul opened the padlock, put it aside, grabbed the handle, lifted the hatch door, and, straining, opened it against the wall.
The entrance to the dungeon was open.
Paul took out a candle, struck a match, and lit the wick of the candle. The steps that led down became visible.
Matthew watched Paul's every move intently.
“I hide them there...” Thomson said and began to slowly go downstairs.
The man with a knife in his hand followed the owner. He was firmly convinced that the situation was under control.
They walked slowly, carefully stepping on each step in the twilight.
When they went down, the light from the candle flame illuminated what was there. In the middle of this cramped room there were many wooden boxes with potatoes. The boxes were stacked, one on top of the other. There were several such piles. They formed a kind of pyramid of boxes that almost touched the ceiling of the dungeon.
This island, which was formed by boxes, was located in the middle of the closet, and could be walked around. Which is what Paul started doing. He walked slowly, looking down at the bottom drawers of this pyramid. Matthew began to guess that the owner, apparently, was already at the target, and was looking for the specific place where he had equipped the hiding place.
Both have almost walked around this island. Now they positioned themselves so that Paul was closer to the exit, and Phillips, on the contrary, was further from the exit, and closer to the back wall of the cellar.
Paul remained.
- I made a hiding place in the bottom drawers. He sprinkled the money with potatoes. So that no one would guess. We need to get to the bottom drawers...
He pretended to bend down, even tried with his left hand, because he was holding a burning candle in his right, to pull the bottom drawer. It is clear that he, crushed by the weight of the top drawers, did not even budge.
- What a devil! – Paul cursed. – You need to remove the top drawers first. Hold it!
With these words, he did not offer Matthew to hold the candle and light it for him, but literally poked a burning candle into his hands. He purely instinctively, with his free left hand, in his right hand, he held a knife and blew a candle.
- I'll remove the top drawers. - Said Paul. - Money in the bottom drawers.
He wasn't talking so much as he was distracting his enemy's attention.
He stretched his hands up, but did not take the top drawer, as logic and the order of actions dictated, but sharply pulled down the entire pyramid of drawers. She fell with a crash between Paul and his guard.
At the same time, one of the boxes, falling, caught a candle. It flew to the floor and immediately went out. Impenetrable darkness reigned in the dungeon!
Paul, of course, could not fail to take advantage of such a stunningly convenient moment for escape. It’s not hard to guess that he planned all this precisely for the sake of escape. The fact that at that moment the candle also went out, of course, played in his favor. He understood that his possible pursuer was now instantly blind. And in his cellar, Paul knew everything from memory. He could move here in complete darkness. Knowing where and what is, when the first step will be, when the last one will be.
Rushing towards the exit, he also managed to pull the edge of the boxes with beets. They stood at the very entrance. They immediately fell on their sides, and actually blocked the exit from the dungeon.
Yes, these boxes did not look like an insurmountable obstacle. One could climb over them, step over them. But all this would be a waste of time. It is especially fate that the pursuer would do this in the dark. For him now, the mountain of boxes and potatoes that had fallen in front of him was an insurmountable obstacle. This is what Paul was counting on when he conceived this trick. For him, the key was to gain at least a few seconds from his pursuer. Enough for him to have time to run out of the basement and complete the next point of his plan.
Now this, the second, and probably the most important, step in the conceived plan, which could save his life, Paul wanted to do most of all.
He quickly, literally ran, jumping from step to step with the agility of a young hurdler full of strength and energy, ran up and immediately slammed the hatch and pushed the bolt!
The next moment he felt for a padlock on the ground and threaded its shackle through the eye of the bolt!
Only now did he allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief! He understood that the main thing was done! That the danger is behind! One could be satisfied with this. But, remembering the brilliantly wise phrase that says that “God protects the careful,” Paul, straining himself, rolled the heavy barrels of pickles from the corners of the cellar onto the hatch. To use them to press down this already massive door.
It really was an unnecessary precaution. After all, he made almost a real fortress from his cellar. Paul was prompted to this idea by an incident that occurred in his parents’ house when he was still a boy. One night someone climbed into their cellar and took out all the bottles, boxes of potatoes, everything that could be carried away. Except for the barrels of pickles. He remembered how hard his family, including himself, worked to plant, grow, harvest, and then preserve it all. And in an instant they lost it all! Due to the fact that some unkind person, or several evil people, committed meanness and took into their hands what did not belong to them.
Then young Paul imagined how someone was eating his family’s food, and he terribly wanted to shout to this impudent person: “Aren’t you, you bastard, ashamed to eat something that you have no right to eat?!”
That moral trauma of childhood was so deep that now, in adulthood, when building a cellar in the courtyard of his, now personal, house, Paul made both the first doors of the cellar and the second doors leading down, not just from thick boards, but also and beat them with a thick sheet of iron!
This precaution was now actually saving Thomson's life. He understood that the buried villain, trying to save his skin, and having a sharp knife in his hands, would try to dig a hole either in the wood of the doors or in the wall of the cellar. But a thick sheet of iron protected from a hole in the door hatch, and reinforced concrete walls protected from a hole in the wall!
Yes! This is exactly how Thomson made the walls in the basement. At first he wanted to simply cover them with bricks. But, remembering the incident in his parents’ house, he covered all the walls of the dungeon with a thick metal mesh, and then threw a considerable layer of concrete on this iron web! If now Paul’s would-be killer were to fall and dig at least some hole in the concrete with a knife, then he certainly wouldn’t be able to do anything with the metal bars.
Thomson, who personally, with his own hands, built this cellar, and knew that there were no flaws in it, was now rejoicing in his soul! Just a few minutes ago he was mentally saying goodbye to life. He had no doubt at all that the said guest would take away from him not only his money, but also his life. Now he was not just rejoicing, but openly gloating that he had switched places with his would-be killer! He was not at all embarrassed by what he was doing now. He was deeply confident that he was doing the right thing! He brings down just retribution on the head of the villain!
And although Paul said that the “fish in a can” was packed more than securely, he still brought a sledgehammer and other heavy objects from the garage and placed it on top of the hatch. And then, after thinking a little, he took thick blankets out of the house and covered the hatch with them. He was sure that even without this, no one would hear the prisoner if he decided to yell, calling for help. But he, as we have already said, remembered the wise saying “God protects the careful.”
Having locked the second, entrance door to the cellar, he, with a sense of accomplishment and with incredible relief in his soul, headed into the house to finish the cooled sausages.
While eating, he imagined how Matthew, not thinking that he first of all needed to save his life, and not think about the money that he would no longer need, would begin to rummage through the boxes of potatoes, trying to find the coveted bundles of money there. How upset he will be if he doesn’t find them there! It probably never occurred to him that there was no money there! What the cunning owner of the house is hiding in a completely different place. And the cellar was just a trap for the naive and gullible Phillips.
Paul had fun imagining how disappointed Matthew's face would be when he found nothing and realized he'd been fooled!
Having finished his late dinner, Paul, before closing the front door for the night, opened it to, out of habit, purely instinctively, look at the area in front of the house and the adjacent part of the street.
What he saw made him shudder...

Episode eight
Thomson saw clearly and clearly that a car was parked in front of his house, sad and alone! One second was enough for Paul to understand: this is Matthew Philips' car!
This was so unexpected that Thomson immediately quickly stepped back into the house and just as quickly slammed the front door behind him. As if she could save him from a sudden problem...
And the owner of the house had no doubt that this was an important and fateful problem. He was sure that the attacker had made his way to him on foot. I did this on purpose late at night. Most likely, he walked, looking around, so that no one would notice him. After all, in addition to returning the money, she probably planned to kill Paul. That's why he had to hide. Therefore, now, having walled up his would-be killer alive in his cellar-bunker, Thomson was sure that from that moment this secret would be forever and finally buried in the basement.
Now the presence of Matthew's car near his door radically changed things! It was necessary at all costs to quickly remove this damn car, which could expose Paul, away from his house! And it’s better to make sure that no one ever sees him, like the owner himself, ever again!!!
Realizing that time was precious, Thomson got dressed and hurriedly headed to the door. Then, after thinking a lot, he returned and took a screwdriver, a pocket knife, a master key, and rubber gloves. He quickly put them on and hurried to the car.
There were no keys in the ignition...
Paul tried using a master key, but it didn't work. He had no choice but to unscrew the lock, connect the wires, and in this almost barbaric way, start the engine.
Turning on the headlights, he drove onto the road and drove away from the house.
I drove slowly, trying to follow all traffic rules so as not to draw attention to myself with my violations.
Having left the vicinity of Flint, he already knew where he would go now. Due to the fact that he was fond of fishing and walked along the entire nearby coast, he knew where the high cliffs and deep places were. Those that do not expose their bottom even during low tides. And this is exactly what the hero of our story wanted.
The road was night, deserted, cars were rare. But they also scared Paul terribly. When the next oncoming car was approaching, it seemed to Thomson that a hand would now stick out of the open window, grab him tightly by the throat, and a thunderous voice would ask: “Where are you, murderer, going?!”
Paul was now beginning to experience the inevitable syndrome-phenomenon known to every killer. It would seem that no one witnessed your crime, everything turned out okay! You are not being pursued by the police, no one suspects you, you are not being followed. You could breathe a sigh of relief and forget about what you did forever! But no! There is something different in the world than the coma of civil or criminal courts. Perhaps this is the Judgment of God, perhaps it is just remorse, or something similar. But from this moment you can neither sleep peacefully, nor eat, nor feel safe. Every rustle seems to you to be an omen that they have come for you... In every dark corner you imagine the eyes of your victim... They look at you reproachfully and turn everything in your soul upside down... This is not as easy to survive as it might seem at first glance ...
And now Paul began to dream of danger everywhere. One day, when he simply looked in the rearview mirror out of habit, it seemed to him that Matthew was running after him along the night road and desperately waving his hands, calling for him to stop and give him his car. Paul understood that this simply could not happen. This is an obsession! You need to push it aside and forget about it! But suggestion, and even at such a psychologically difficult moment, is not a joke. The agitated Thomson began to look back more and more often. Intellectually, he understood that he was doing this in vain. That no one, least of all Matthew, would run after him now. But his neck, head and eyes seemed to not obey him. It was as if they lived their own lives, separate from Paul. The neck and head themselves turned towards the rearview mirror, the eyes peered into the cold glass of the mirror, trying to make out the pursuer running at full speed there. This obsession became so enormous that soon Paul was looking not so much forward as back, in the rearview mirror! Only occasionally looking out the windshield!
It was at one of these moments, when he looked in front of him, that Paul saw a man standing in front of him on the road!!!
He was so close that it seemed to Thomson: if he didn’t brake sharply, he would hit this pedestrian! Purely on instinct, Paul pressed the brake pedal as hard as he could. They screamed shrilly and the car stopped.
Not even a few seconds had passed when the door on the passenger side burst open and a man hurriedly got into the car, breathing heavily. He was catching his breath after running.
- Well, thank you! “He said cheerfully and carefree, sitting down more comfortably. - At least you, your kind soul, took me! And then the engine of my car broke down... I tinkered with it until late at night, but I couldn’t fix it. I want to hitchhike home to Rila. Or at least to Prestatyn. Thank you for picking me up! And then several cars passed. Don’t tie me up... They were afraid... It’s night all around... They shouldn’t... I’m a quiet and peaceful person. I wouldn't offend them...
The man is so emotional that even during all this time he never looked at Paul. He looked out the windshield with the air of a man hurrying to quickly visit the toilet. He looked at where he wanted to go most now. I looked ahead. Seeing that the car was standing still and the driver was silent, the overnight guest finally looked in Paul’s direction.
The smile slowly faded from his cheerful face.
- What's wrong with you, mister? You have no face! Something happened?
Thomson was breathing heavily, he was recovering from shock.
The fellow passenger's gaze fell on Paul's hands lying on the steering wheel. They were wearing rubber gloves...
- Why are you wearing gloves? Just like a gangster... While stealing a car...
The fellow traveler apparently was a really quiet, peaceful and kind person. Leading a law-abiding lifestyle, he never found himself in situations where open-heartedness, frankness and naivety were absolutely inappropriate. When you need to understand that a careless word you say can play a cruel joke on you... A very cruel joke...
Only now did Paul, who until that time had been blankly looking straight ahead at himself, at the windshield, come to his senses and turned his head towards the guest.
By a fatal coincidence of circumstances, at that very time he looked at the ignition switch dangling near the driver’s knees. Hanging on the wires, he swung like a pendulum. Paul, trying to understand where his fellow traveler was looking, followed his gaze and saw a lock torn from its usual place, still swaying, after a sharp braking, on the wires. But the amplitude of these vibrations soon died away completely, and the castle froze in place.
The ringing silence gave what was happening an additional, ominous aura.
Paul turned to his fellow traveler. Their gazes met. Although twilight reigned in the salon, Paul still saw how the face of a mortally frightened man turned white...
He slowly reached for the door handle, trying to leave the salon.
A split second was enough for Paul to understand what could happen now. He will miss a witness who will certainly later talk about this incident. And when a thread is pulled, it will lead to Matthew’s corpse, imprisoned in the basement, and to the millionaire’s money...
Now everything can collapse! In an instant! At once!
In such a short moment, Paul managed to think that he would lose the money that he could continue to quietly and with impunity lure out of the old woman, blackmailing her. How everything was set up! How well everything went down! Thomson really didn’t want this stream of money to dry up...
And he decided!
He quickly took out his pocket knife and opened it just as quickly.
The door lock clicked. The frightened fellow traveler had already managed to open it and was trying to quietly slip out of the cabin.
Paul stopped him from doing this at the last moment.
He sharply grabbed the poor guy by the hair with his left hand and pulled his head hard towards him. And then he slashed his throat with a knife...
Once, then again... And again... To be sure...
If someone had told him earlier that he was capable of this and would do it, he would have sincerely laughed, making fun of the stupid seer. Because this could never happen! But under what circumstances! Paul previously, as they say, couldn’t hurt a fly! And to raise a hand against a person... This cannot happen! Because it can never be!!!
He remembered how once, as a teenager, his mother asked him to slaughter a goose for borscht. My father was not at home, there was no one else. Just him, Paul, and mom. She was preparing dinner, she was busy, she had no time to cut the goose. And she had never cut up domestic animals before. She felt sorry for taking the lives of these innocent creatures. My father always did this. At that moment, Paul did not dare to refuse his mother. He had already matured, his mother increasingly repeated that he was “becoming a real man!”
Refusal would mean the loss of his authority in the eyes of his mother. That he can't kill a bird! What literally every boy did in their small village where they then lived!
Paul saw his father do it. He aligned the wings of the future victim together, stepped on them with his right foot, took the head, and pulled it away from the body. The neck lengthened. He had no choice but to cut the doomed neck with a knife.
Paul knew then that he couldn't do that. I don't have the courage. He came up with another way out. He took a bayonet shovel, pressed the folded wings of the bird to the ground with one foot, pulled its head back with the other, and plunged the tip of the shovel into its neck! At the same time, he looked away to the side so as not to see how the guillotine of the shovel would cut off the victim’s head.
That’s how suspicious and scrupulous he was... He couldn’t even kill a bird... That goose was the first and only victim, which Pot Thomson, having taken sin on his soul, took his life.
Now he was taking a man's life...
He held the body of the unfortunate man, who was clutching at the air, trying to grab the door handle and escape from this hell. But to no avail... Paul felt how the victim’s movements were weakening, how life was leaving the body...
Paul's soul screamed in horror, his heart sank with pain and sympathy for this man, his conscience clouded his mind and gaze...
But he remembered the tight wads of money, and wanted this sweet monetary fairy tale, which so unexpectedly brightened his life, not to end. For the sake of this money, for the sake of what it brings, it is worth being patient. Time will pass and he will forget about this unfortunate man. You just need to finish the job. It was very close to the cliff to which he was driving. Now he will turn off the road, drive up to the cliff, accelerate the car, and at full speed direct it to the bottom of the bay. There he will bury the traces of his two crimes. There's still a little bit left, a little bit for everyone.
That's all... The unfortunate man's body began to resist, it went limp and became motionless. It is done! Last step left!
It was at this time that something completely unexpected happened.
Carried away by the struggle, Paul did not notice how a car drove up behind him and stopped right in front of him! Door to door!
Thomson's soul broke... He realized that this was the end...

Episode nine
- Tell me, mister. – It was heard through the open window. - We need to go to Llandudno. Am I going right?
Paul knew he needed to answer something, but his excitement took his breath away. He couldn't speak. Even wanting it.
- Sorry. Are you okay?
- Yes! – Paul cleared his throat. -You are driving correctly. Now it will be Prestatyn, then Rhyl, then Colwyn Bay, and then Llandudno. Don't get lost! Drive straight all the time!
- Yes, I understand. Sorry... But I think it’s better to ask again... You never know... Just in case. Sorry. Good luck!
- Good luck to you too! Sorry for not answering right away. Suppressed a coughing attack. I have tuberculosis... Sorry...
Paul specially came up with a trick with tuberculosis in order to quickly drive away the annoying driver.
Apparently this had an effect, as he immediately took off.
Frightened to death, Paul was about to be glad that the trouble was over, but at that very moment he heard someone sitting in the back seat of that car say something to his driver.
The quickly accelerating Mercedes stopped abruptly. The light from his brake lights literally blinded Thomson, who was paralyzed with fear. He was sure that someone sitting behind him had noticed the body. Or blood. Now they will return, and everything will be revealed...
Paul wanted to throw open the door, run out of the cabin, run to the breakaway, jump down, and swim, swim and swim! Away from the fan of troubles that literally fell on him like an avalanche.
But it was too late. The driver put the car in reverse and soon stopped next to Paul again. “Now this is definitely the end...” was all our poor fellow had time to think.
- Sorry, mister. My wife reproaches me for leaving you alone on the night road without offering my help. Maybe you have a breakdown? Why are you standing and not moving? Perhaps I could help you with something?
- Thank you. I'm fine. I was just stopping to... - Paul hesitated. – To relieve your bladder. Excuse me for such a piquant detail...
- Well, what are you talking about! Why apologize?! It's an everyday matter! Good luck to you!
And the Mercedes sped off into the night...
How badly Paul wanted to breathe a sigh of relief! But he understood that now he didn’t even have time for such a little thing! He wanted to get down this road faster! He has already begun to be afraid of her! He was sure that the next car that would pass by him would certainly stop nearby! He won’t survive the next interaction with another driver!
Paul took off and ran forward as quickly as possible. If only there was a quicker place where he would turn towards the cliff. He knew this place. And although there were no roads there, not even dirt roads or field roads, he knew that the terrain there was flat, without holes or ditches. He can get through there. Tall grass is no problem! She, the grass, just needs to rejoice! It will hide traces of the car. Well! More! A little!
When Paul saw the faint light of an oncoming car far ahead, he thought he was about to go crazy.
But it was at this time that he noticed a place where he could and should turn.
Paul immediately turned off the headlights, turned off the highway, and drove toward the shore through thick, tall grass. He knew that the shore would not be soon. He wasn't afraid of falling off a cliff. The main goal now was to move away from the road so that that damn car, when it passed this place, would not notice Paul. Soon bushes and trees began to appear, albeit rather sparse and rarely found, but still there. Thomson understood that they would hide him from those who would pass by.
When it became clear that the oncoming car was very close and would soon pass him, Paul not only stopped, but even turned off the engine. So that nothing, even the dim light of the sensors on the instrument panel, would not betray his presence. Taught by bitter experience, the poor fellow was now afraid of everything. He took every precaution to avoid possible obstacles. He really wanted no one else and nothing to stop him from completing his plan.
When the oncoming car finally passed and disappeared into the distance, Paul immediately rushed forward. He was tired of being afraid, apprehensive, shuddering from everything he saw and heard.
Here comes the break.
He stopped, got out, walked up to him, and looked around.
The picture was majestic...
There is a vast expanse of water around the bay... The lunar path reflected on this surface... He should admire this splendor, enchanting the eye and touching the soul...
But now there was clearly no time for that...
Paul returned to the salon and looked around.
The lifeless body of his companion slid down and lay almost on the floor of the cabin.
Now this poor guy is going to the bottom. Perhaps no one will ever know where he is, what happened to him, and where he found the last refuge in his life. Suddenly Paul wanted to look into his pockets, see his documents, find out who he was. But he immediately dismissed the thought. He understood that he had neither the strength nor the desire to do this.
But looking into the glove compartment of the car seemed like a good idea to Paul. You never know what Matthew could have stored there. Perhaps there is some dirt on him, on Thomson. Well, you never know... Perhaps, when he was watching Paul, he was photographing his victim. If there is a camera in the glove compartment now, then, of course, it needs to be taken away.
There was no camera there. But there was something different. Plump wallet!
Paul couldn't resist the temptation to look into it...
To his greatest surprise, he did not find there, contrary to expectations, either money or documents!
But there was something else there...
Perhaps far more valuable than all the money that could fit in that wallet.
There was a ring with a huge gemstone!!!
The ring and stone were so beautiful that Paul could not resist the temptation to take it in his hands, slowly turn it before his eyes, examine it better...
A huge, incredible diamond sparkled in the moonlight and enchanted Paul... It was something unimaginable... It was enchantment itself...
The ring was not yet in Paul's pocket, but he had no doubt that he would now be there...
Mind, reason, premonition, experience, everything that existed in this world told him that this should under no circumstances be done! How many times have even experienced and seasoned criminals been punctured because of such things. It would seem that they had everything planned! They thought through all their affairs down to the smallest detail! They robbed banks, casinos, mail trains, gold vaults! No one could ever convict them of anything and put them in prison! There were no clues! But…
Oh, the notorious “but”...
Some gangster at that time had a girlfriend, to whom the elegant boyfriend really wanted to give some stunning gift. Such that she, squealing with delight, threw herself on the neck of her beloved, squealed from an overabundance of emotions, kissed him, repeated the words “I am so grateful to you, beloved!” a hundred times. And as a sign of gratitude, she would drag the lucky one into bed. To clearly and tangibly demonstrate to the gentleman, intoxicated with happiness, how strong is her gratitude for such a generous gift!
Dear friends! Both listeners and listeners! Admit it, many of you would like to be in this situation. Initially, the author wanted to address this to men. But then I thought that in such a situation, women get an even greater thrill. I don't just mean the bed. It was the men who thought about the bed. Women, of course, are about a gift... Not just about a gift, but about such a gift!
So the gangsters in love succumb to the same temptation. No matter how the leaders order them that they cannot “shine” certain especially valuable, easily recognizable, stolen things, they cannot give themselves the pleasure of putting some expensive trinket on the tender finger of their beloved...
It is on this finger that the stolen item will then be noticed either by its former owner, or by an experienced detective...
It’s not hard to guess what will follow…
Years and centuries will pass, but always and everywhere greed will contribute to people falling for this bait again and again...
Paul was no exception. A minute later the handsome ring was in his pocket.
There were seconds left until the overall completion of the case...
Paul put the gear lever into operating mode, placed a heavy stone found nearby on the accelerator pedal, and released the clutch pedal...
The car, like a racing car, took off, and we rushed forward towards the cliff.
Paul just had to jump out of the car before it picked up breakneck speed.
He should now go to the cliff and admire the spectacle that many viewers love to see in action films. But Paul had no time for that at the moment. He understood that he had to leave the crime scene as quickly as possible.
He started to run. While being away from the road! He ran along the shore. And not towards our native Flint! But, on the contrary, away from him. So that no one could notice him on the way to Flint. Well, you never know... Maybe one of the fishermen will sit on the shore.
He hurried towards Prestatyn. To sit there until the morning. And in the morning, when the “eleven”, a regular bus running between these towns, starts running, get on it and quietly and unnoticed go home.
It seemed to him that he had come up with everything correctly and was doing the right thing.
He, of course, no longer took out of his pocket the ring that warmed his body, soul and heart. But every now and then he put his hand to his pocket to feel that it was in place.
His soul sang. He thought of nothing else but this stone.
He did not yet know that it was his humble person who would join the number of those we mentioned above. Those who had bags with bundles of money at home or in banks. Who came up with cunning combinations to get this money regularly and in large quantities.
But who ingloriously ended his life by getting caught with such trinkets...

Part two
Episode ten
- Jackie! Come in! Come in, young Ned Baxter!
- How's Baxter? My father said that you used to jokingly call young police officers Sherlock Holmes.
- So it’s the police. Yes, and we were talking about England. I was working in Chester at the time. And you are our private detective! And you live in Wales. In Flint! Sherlock Hill made London and 221b Baker Street famous! And Ned Baxter, our fellow countryman! He made 135 Flint and Bolingbroke Street famous! Sit down, my boy! Sit down!
The gray-haired owner of the office, the chief of the Flint police department, James Neal, pointed his guest to a chair. He sat down. It was clear from his good-natured face that he was in excellent spirits.
- I am truly glad to see you, Mr. Neal! Sincerely! Although I suspect that you didn’t call me just to drink tea. Therefore, I must admit, I am torn by curiosity: what is behind all this? After all, a visit to you, not your home, but to your office, is a serious matter. This doesn't happen every day...
The policeman sighed heavily, leaned back in his chair, and thought for a moment.
- This is the drama of our existence, Jackie. That life, business, work, constant bustle kill something human inside us. Turning us first into employees, then into exemplary and exemplary workers, and then into soulless robotic machines. For whom work comes first and then work, indicators, reports and other nonsense. But something good, sincere, personal fades into the background...
The narrator fell silent for a minute, sadly shook his head, and then continued.
“I am, of course, pleased that my superiors call my department one of the best, and that I myself am an example to others. But, to be honest, sometimes I want to tell all these matters, investigations, work, and eternal fuss to hell! Just sit with your father, like before, when you were still little and he was alive, over a cup of tea, just chat with him about this and that... Not about these damn things, but about life, about nature...
James Neal shook his head sadly again.
- Nostalgia is, of course, good, but the reality is that my working day and work time are so tightly scheduled that there is no time not only for drinking tea, but also for just talking. Find out how your health is, how you are doing. So, excuse me, let me get straight to the point. Here's the thing...
The cop rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as if he was wondering where to start.
- I remember how, as a boy, you were fond of Sherlock Holmes and, most importantly, our famous fellow countryman Ned Baxter. Even then you dreamed of becoming like them, a private detective. You were attracted not just by criminal cases, but by those with burning secrets. Some kind of romance, or something... I remember how you buzzed my ears about the amazingly fascinating criminal case that Ned Baxter was investigating, related to the theft of the “Cursed Diamond.” This is a truly exciting case, during the solving of which Baxter experienced a huge number of incredible adventures. Things like this are really interesting to do. Such a thing risks becoming a Great Adventure, which can happen in the life of not every person.
The narrator took the folder lying on the table and moved it closer to him.
- We, in the police, unfortunately, and perhaps fortunately, have almost no cases like those that Ned Baxter was hired to do. We have all the everyday life and routine... Sometimes such nonsense happens, the so-called “everyday stuff”, that you don’t even want to deal with it. Rummaging through someone else's family linen is almost a humiliation of personal dignity. But... Alas... We have to do it. If there is a statement, the matter, no matter how lousy it is, needs to be investigated. But recently we came across a case that may interest you.
Jack, a little lulled by the leisurely speech of the owner of the office, had already begun to look at what was in his interlocutor’s office for a change, and at these words he sharply turned his head in his direction. The guy immediately understood that the preface was over. Now the chief of police will talk about the main thing. That's why everyone started listening.
- The point is this. In Chester there are many antique and jewelry stores, where they sometimes sell very, very interesting, and even very expensive things. So here it is. One day, some gentleman, a jeweler from Liverpool, who was visiting Chester, saw a ring on the counter of this shop that caused him amazement. Not because of its price or beauty. The beauty of the ring was admired by everyone who saw it in this display case. But this specialist from Liverpool was the first to exclaim: “Excuse me! But this is the stone that...” And he began to tell such things about this ring that the famous stories associated with the “Cursed Diamond”, which Ned Baxter was engaged in, pale in comparison with what this jeweler told!
The keen and experienced eye of the narrator did not escape the excitement with which the listener’s eyes lit up. He expected such a reaction, so he continued with renewed energy.
- But that's a different story. Something else is important for us. This Liverpool jeweler said something incredible. He began to claim that this ring was stolen from its previous owner. And although the owner of a jewelry store in Chester swore that he did not take anything about this fact, he had no choice but to call the police. He will provide them with a receipt, where it was stated in black and white that this ring was offered for sale by a certain gentleman named Harry Day. Haven't you come across this person's name in your detective practice?
Jack shook his head.
- I don’t remember...
- And in ours, in the police station, it happened. True, to find out this, I had to rummage quite a bit in the dusty archives of our departments. It turned out that this Mr. had been fond of pickpocketing since his youth. I emphasize: pickpocketing! This was already a reason for the first disappointments. It is unlikely that a petty pickpocket is capable of stealing such a rare and expensive piece of jewelry. Such items are usually stored in safes.
The narrator sighed heavily.
- The second disappointment awaited the police when this Harry Day was found and taken into custody. During interrogations, he swore that he had long ago given up this matter completely and irrevocably. Indeed, his last sin was recorded long ago. When he was still a beardless youth. So how then, one wonders, did this ring get to him? “Surely you won’t deny that it was you who brought this thing to Chester’s juvenile store?” - the police told him reasonably. “And I don’t deny it!” - Yesterday’s thief, and now a crystal clear man, answered them, looking at them through the eyes of an innocent child. And then he told them a very interesting story...
Neil smiled ironically, shook his head in disbelief, leaned back in his chair, and continued:
- So... Mr. Harry Day is traveling by bus from Rhyl to Chester. Number eleven of the regular bus. He rides like that, white and fluffy, law-abiding, sits quietly and peacefully on the second floor of the bus, doesn’t bother anyone. He just looks thoughtfully out the window of the bus, admiring the landscapes flashing outside the window. Such pure innocence. Sometimes passengers go up to the second floor of the bus, pass several stops, and get off. Mostly the second floor is almost deserted. He claims that he did not even pay attention to the passenger who sat in the next seat in Pretatine and got off in Flint. Only when the bus started moving, passed several stops, only then did our innocent connoisseur of nature see that in the place where the passenger who got off in Flint was sitting was... Well, Jackie, I think you yourself can guess that our yesterday’s pickpocket, and now law-abiding and an honest man, I saw him in the next seat...
Jack allowed himself a small smile. But only slightly.
- That's what I mean... James Neal continued. – He came up with a version, of course, for himself, his beloved, quite logical. Didn't touch anyone, didn't steal anything from anyone. I would be glad to return the lost one... He emphasized the word “lost”, the little thing to its owner, but by that time Flint was already behind. He didn't have time to go back. In order not to desecrate his white and innocent hands with other people's things, not to hold them in his hands, he decided to quickly get rid of the find. I couldn’t think of anything better than to give it to a jewelry store in Chester for sale, and I went to Manchester. Where, by the way, the police found him.
Neil opened the folder in front of him.
- When asked why you, dear man, since you are so good and law-abiding, didn’t hand this thing over to the lost property office or the police, he replied that he was confused, was in a hurry, and didn’t think about it. And he saw an advertising sign above the entrance to a jewelry store near the Chester bus station. That’s why I couldn’t come up with anything better or faster than to give the find there. But he showed with all his appearance that he wanted to help the police. Although he did not pay much attention to the passenger-neighbor, he himself suggested drawing up at least an approximate verbal portrait of him. He insisted that the passenger got off at the first stop entering Flint. That is, opposite McDonald's.
The owner of the office took a photo out of the folder and handed it to his guest.
- Here is an identikit of this man. Who allegedly lost this ring. Since the traces of this case lead to our town, my colleagues from Chester contacted us in Flint so that we too could join in the investigation of this case. Of course, I immediately handed my guys these photos so that they could almost go door-to-door to all the buildings located not far from this bus stop. And near the stop itself, police officers dressed in civilian clothes were constantly on duty, replacing each other. Alas, all this did not produce any results...
The police chief smiled bitterly.
- I think you will believe me, Jackie, if I say that during my many years of work in the police, I had to investigate many complex, and even life-threatening, cases. Fate brought me together with dangerous criminals, cruel murderers. But, despite this, I sometimes surprisingly quickly, and even easily, unraveled serious and complex criminal cases. Here, at first glance, we are dealing with a mere trifle. A kind of petty pickpocket who will be easy to figure out. But no! In reality, it turns out that everything comes to a dead end.
Neal leaned back in his chair, rubbed his chin, and thought.
- He repents that he was faint-hearted, and then, instead of taking the find to another place, he handed it over to the shop. But he emphasizes that he just made a mistake! Not stealing! Not a crime! And he threatens that he will complain if he is not released! And although, I think, not only I personally, but also many, understand that something is wrong here, that all these stories can only be a cleverly thought-out defense of yesterday’s pickpocket, and now a law-abiding and honest person, but he, in the end , can achieve his goal. If nothing is found and presented to him, then after the expiration of the deadlines established by law, we will be obliged to release him...
With these words, the cop took out another photo from the folder and again handed it to his listener.
- Here is a photo of this ring, Jackie. Not stupid! Is not it?!
Bradley took the photo and looked at it. His eyebrows slowly crawled up...
- Wow... - He almost whistled in surprise and admiration. - Good... Damn good...
“That’s why I decided to let you in on this secret, my boy.” It is clear that we, the police, must deal with this matter. But as a sign of my long and strong friendship with your father, I decided to tell you about this story. I remember with what admiration you told me as a child about that “Cursed Diamond” that Baxter was working on. I remember with what fire your children’s eyes shone then. I understood that you were filled with a desire to be in Ned’s place and investigate a similar case. So I’m doing this now in order to make your childhood dream come true. I had no time to delve into the history of this ring. I just took a quick look at it. Very fluent! But this was enough for me to understand that this diamond, which adorns this golden ring, is pulling behind it no less a long bloody trail of crimes, like the “Lord of the World.” I think that was the name of that damned diamond that Ned Baxter was looking for?
- Yes... It was called “Lord of the World”... - Jack answered in a thoughtful voice, without taking his fascinated gaze off the image in the photograph. - Wow... I would like to do this business! I would really like to!
- So for this, my boy, I called you. When you decide what to do, what to do, draw up an action plan, contact me. If my help is needed, I will, of course, help. Whatever I can.
- I've already made a plan! First of all, I want to see this... Well, what's his name? With Harry Day!
Neal's face broke into a good-natured smile.
- I recognize Jackie Bradley's ex-boyfriend! The same fire and excitement in the eyes... Commendable! Very commendable! These are exactly the qualities that cops look for when solving cases. How can I entice you, Jackie, to join me?! To us! To the police!
- So you can arrange a date for me with this Dey? – Jack continued, continuing to stare at the photo, not paying attention to the police chief’s question. As if he didn’t tell him anything and didn’t offer anything.
The police chief would be offended that the mustache-less youth practically ignored him. But the old cop was understanding of the situation. He realized how euphoric his old friend's son was now.
- Of course, I’ll organize it, Jackie. He's currently in jail in Chester. I have not just good, but friendly relations with the local police chief. When you decide, tell me. I will call him…
- I've already made up my mind! Call him right now!
Hearing this, James Neal really wanted to laugh. Laugh sincerely, good-naturedly, saying: “You are incorrigible, my young detective Ned Baxter!” But, seeing with what excitement Jack continued to look at the photo, he realized that this laughter would be inappropriate. A hot guy might misinterpret it. This laughter will only offend him.
The owner of the office just shook his head in satisfaction and smiled good-naturedly.
His hand reached out to the office phone receiver...

Episode eleven
The holding cell in which Harry Day was held was a dismal sight. Just like any prison cell. This is not an entertainment establishment, so in such places it is not customary to place tubs with palm trees, large aquariums with fish and other attributes that would please the eye. There was something completely different here... Dark stone walls, a small barred window near the ceiling, thick metal doors, twilight and despondency reigning around...
Alas, it was precisely this “gentleman’s set” that appeared before the eyes of Jack Bradley when he entered Harry Day’s cell. However, he did not expect to see anything else. Jack was not interested in the situation in the cell, but in its prisoner. He needed Day. It was he who Bradley was now trying to get into conversation, it was he who he wanted to encourage into frankness.
He glared at Jack with a cold, suspicious look.
- I don’t know what you want from me, good sir. – The prisoner spoke in a quiet, calm, monotonous voice. He seemed to be in control of every word he said. “I already told the investigator everything.” I don't know who you are. However, I don’t want to know. If you are such a “decoy duck”, who are usually placed next to prisoners so that they, imitating sincerity and, challenging the interlocutor to be frank, try to extract information from him, then there is nothing to extract from me. I told everything I knew. And the devil pulled me up from the seat because that idiot forgot on the bus! I just picked up the damn found thing! I didn't steal it! All! Dot!
Jack sighed heavily. He rose from the stool, walked over to the bunk on which Dey was sitting, sat down next to him, leaned back against the wall, threw his head up, fixed his gaze on the ceiling, and thought.
- Have you ever heard, Harry, about Ned Baxter?
The prisoner first looked in amazement at his guest, who had so unceremoniously sat down next to him, then he caught himself thinking that he even liked such spontaneity, and then smiled slightly, remembering his question.
- You may also ask if I have ever heard of Sherlock Holmes...
- So, you heard... That's good. One of the most prominent cases that Ned solved was the case of the Cursed Diamond. Have you heard of this?
Dey stared at his interlocutor incredulously. But he still answered.
- Of course, I heard... But what do you want from me, good sir? Why are you all walking around? Why these questions about Baxter? What would you like?
Now Jack paused a little before answering.
- I want to achieve the same results as my famous fellow countryman. Ned Baxter, a private detective, has made his city famous throughout the world for his skillful solving of mysterious cases. Now I, his colleague, want to increase the glory of my hometown. I don’t want to deal with cases of unfaithful wives or husbands, and other everyday issues! And mysterious and mysterious affairs! Like Baxter's Cursed Stone case! I feel that behind this ring that you allegedly found in the bus, there is the same bloody trail as behind Ned’s Cursed Stone. I would really like you all to honestly and truthfully tell me everything you know about this ring. Very!
Jack, carried away by his thoughts and continuing to look dreamily at the ceiling, did not pay attention to how wary his interlocutor was after what Jack said.
“As far as I know,” Day began cautiously, “Ned Baxter was from Flint.” Are you saying you're from Flint too?!
- Yes. Exactly from Flint. – Jack answered calmly, still with his head in the clouds, and not paying attention to how wary his interlocutor’s voice had become. “That’s why I wouldn’t want to lag behind my famous fellow countryman, and I dream of solving the same mysterious cases as he did.” If you help me reveal the secret of the ring you found, I would... I don’t know how to say it... I could thank you with something. The world is a small place. You never know what could happen in the future. Remember how in that story about the Cursed Stone, Baxter was helped to escape from slavery in Barbados by the two sons of the man whom Ned had once helped as a detective in Wales. Where is Wales and where is Barbados! They were separated by thousands of miles! As many years shared Baxter's meeting with that man, and then his fateful meeting with his sons. Ned's goodness came back to him a hundredfold over the years! And it saved his life! You never know? Perhaps if you help me now, I will be able to answer you in kind someday. Anything can happen... The ways of the Lord are mysterious...
Only now Jack took his eyes off the ceiling and looked questioningly at the prisoner. Waiting for an answer from him. But Day didn’t seem to hear what Jack was saying.
- Private detective... From Flint... - He spoke slowly, thoughtfully, as if in a dream, looking somewhere in front of him. And then he turned sharply to Jack and looked him very intently straight in the eyes. - What is your name? Isn't that Jack Bradley?
Now it was Jackie’s turn to look at the man sitting next to him with an equally surprised look.
“Yes...” he answered slowly. - Exactly Jack Bradley. Have you heard about me? – And, after a pause, he added. - So it’s not in vain that I’m getting old. Little by little I am beginning to gain some kind of fame, just like my famous fellow countryman. And if you help me, I will try to be even more worthy of Ned. Help me! Please! You see, I don’t draw up any papers with interrogation reports. This is not an interrogation, this is a confidential conversation. Let's talk, as they say, without protocol. Let's just have a heart-to-heart talk...
Harry stood up and began to slowly walk around the cell. He didn't even look in the direction of his guest. Apparently, he was making some important decision for himself. Jack understood this and waited patiently.
- Without a protocol, you say... - Dey continued to walk, thinking, muttering something under his breath in thought. - Have a heart-to-heart talk...
He came over and sat down on a stool. Jack sat in front of him, being on the bunk. Now it’s as if their places have changed.
“If you give me your word of honor... Very honest, firm, solid as flint, that what I tell you now will remain only between us, and you will never, never tell anyone,” Harry literally minted every word, “don’t tell , about what I’m going to say now, then I can tell you something... Do you give such a word?
With a premonition that he was about to hear something important, Jack even moved away from the wall and straightened up.
- Of course... I give my word...
Suddenly Harry became alert, as if he had remembered something.
- If you have a hidden sound recording device with you...
- I don’t have any device with me! – Jack cut him off mid-sentence. – Neither a sound recorder nor a video recorder. I give you my word of honor! Honesty to Jack Bradley! It's worth a lot! Believe me!
“I know...” Dey smiled. “That’s why I trusted you...” He thought for a moment and continued. “I’m probably not entirely right when I say that no one should know about our conversation.” I understand that much of what I tell you can be used for your investigations. I just want you not to tell anyone where you got this information from. Well, you never know... There is such a thing as “the secret of the investigation”... Or “from personal reliable sources”... At the same time, no one ever reveals these sources... And, even more so, never mentions participation in these cases anywhere me, Harry Day. Indeed, in some important moments that I will tell you about, it was as if my presence at the scene of events was not there. I watched this from the side, secretly! Secretly! Do you understand? No one in the world has seen or knows that I was there and saw this! However, you will now understand everything yourself from my story...
Harry stood up, walked over to the bunk, sat down next to Jack, sighed heavily, and spoke. His voice sounded calm, measured, as if he was telling his son some mysterious story at night in order to lull the baby to sleep.
- I’m sure you know about the beginning of this whole story. I actually was traveling to Chester by regular bus number eleven, and in Prestatyn a passenger sat next to me, in the next seat. I think it makes no difference to the case whether he lost this ring or whether a clever pickpocket snatched it from him. Unable to resist the temptation... In Flint, at the very first stop, which is located opposite McDonald's, this passenger actually got off. Everything is fair here. That's how it was! And here's what's next...
The narrator sighed, scratched the back of his head, it was noticeable that now something was beginning that he would not like to talk about. But he continued.
- While this passenger was going down from the second floor of the bus, before getting off, I managed to look at what was in my pocket... I saw an expensive ring... I immediately noted the absolute value of this little thing, and realized that in no way In this case, such a chance cannot be lost. Since he carries such an expensive thing with him, one can only imagine what this guy can keep at home! In hiding places. I, of course, immediately hurried down and also got off at the same stop. Of course, I deliberately fell far behind him. I did everything so that he would not notice me. And he achieved his goal! I tracked down which house he entered! He didn't come to visit someone! He took out the keys and stuck them into the lock of the front door. He is the owner of this house! He lives in it! This is exactly what I was looking for! I found out where he lives!
The narrator fell silent again for a minute, as if catching his breath after a long monologue.
- I was really in a hurry on business, so I limited myself to what I saw. That now I know where he lives. And I left... I really went to the same stop again, waited for the next "eleven". and headed on it to Chester. I understand that you, Jack, are interested in the ring... Or rather, the person who had this ring. You are probably burning with impatience to ask him how he ended up with this thing. Can you do it. I remember this address by heart. You can remember it or write it down. If you have a notepad, write it down. This is the only thing I allow you to write down.
Jack silently took out a notepad and carefully wrote down the street name and house number that his interlocutor dictated to him.
Having done this, Harry stood up, walked around the cell, and again thought about something. It seems that he told everything he knew. But Jack was in no hurry to leave. He knew how to wait, he knew how to listen, he knew how to be silent. His profession had long ago convinced him that these three concepts were incomparably more important for the benefit of the cause than the concept of “speaking.”
- I could end here... But I’ll still tell you something else...
From how serious and concentrated Dey's face became, Jack realized that he was about to say something unusual. Therefore, everyone turned to ear.
Harry sat down on the stool.
“It’s not hard to guess that I sat on pins and needles, burning with the desire to sooner or later get into the house of this secret rich man and rummage through the nooks and crannies of his house. True, his house looked very modest. His appearance did not indicate that a millionaire lived here, throwing away expensive rings with luxurious diamonds. But we all know that there have always been, are and will be secret millionaires. Those who walk around in rags, choke on cheap sausage, and at home their hiding places are bursting with the abundance of money hidden there. This is exactly what I was hoping for. And one day I decided...
The narrator stood up, took a few steps around the cell again, and sat down again. This time next to Jack. It was noticeable that his revelations were difficult for him.
- I remember this day. It was the eighth of August. Just on my birthday... Yes, yes, don’t be surprised! I lead a lonely and reclusive life! I don't like feasts! I don't celebrate birthdays! This time I decided to give myself a birthday present. I waited until evening, or rather night, late at night, and when it was almost midnight, I stepped into his courtyard...
Harry smiled bitterly and shook his head reproachfully.
- I understood that this looked like an adventure. I've never done things like this! And I didn’t have a clear plan of action. I was simply drawn there like a magnet! And that's it! Although I understood that the owner was at home. I won't kill him! I definitely and unequivocally would not do this! I consoled myself with the thought that first, for the first time, I would just look around. I’ll quietly look into the sheds and outbuildings, perhaps there are hiding places there. I understood that I was unlikely to rush into the house now. Knowing that the owner sleeps there. It is clear that I was not eager to see him. But this is exactly what happened...
The agitated Day stood up again, measured the camera again with nervous steps, and sat down again. This time on a stool.
He fixed a mysterious glance on Jack.
- Hold on tight, private detective from Flint! Now there will be something unusual! Something that makes your blood run cold...
Harry looked at him with such a piercing gaze, his voice sounded so exciting that the always imperturbable Jack Bradley, who certainly did not consider himself a coward, now felt a slight anxiety begin to take possession of him. But we have already said that Jack possessed the most valuable quality, which many of those living in this world lack. He knew how to listen and be silent! Be silent and listen! Now he was doing just that!
“I shuddered when I heard the front door open. Fortunately, I managed to very quickly hide behind the nearest trees and bushes in his garden. I was sure that I had been exposed. Otherwise, why would the owner leave the house at midnight? I thought that perhaps he had noticed me at the window and was now coming out to point his hunting rifle at me. Shaking with fear in the thickets of trees, I expected the worst. But, to my greatest joy, this did not happen. From his further actions it was clear that he had absolutely no idea that he was not alone in the courtyard of his house. He was absolutely sure that no one was watching his actions at that moment. That’s why I started doing something that really froze my blood in my veins... Almost in the literal sense of the word...
For the umpteenth time during the conversation, Dey got up, walked around the cell, and even went to the door. Where he froze for a moment, as if listening to see if anyone was listening to him.
“To begin with, he drove his car out of the garage and drove it as close as possible to the cellar. – Harry continued, slowly pacing back and forth in front of Jack. “Then he opened the cellar and disappeared into it for a long time. But when he appeared... That’s when the moment came that really made me shudder with horror... He pulled a corpse out of his cellar...
Jack's eyebrows shot up. All this time he listened so carefully that it seemed that not a single muscle moved on his face during this entire hour. Now I couldn’t hide my emotions. The sincere surprise on his face eloquently testified to what was now going on in his soul and thoughts.
- Yes! It was truly a corpse! I realized that I was not mistaken! The moon illuminated the courtyard quite brightly. I saw everything! This rogue loaded such an ominous cargo into the trunk of his car, closed the door of the cellar, closed the door of the house, got into the car and drove away...
The narrator stopped, thought, and sadly shook his head.
“I realized that I was left alone in the courtyard. I was aware that now no one and nothing would stop me from entering the house and looking for a possible hiding place there. But the sight of the corpse frightened me so much that I realized: I needed to stay away from both this house and this terrible person. From the outside, the owner of the house looked like a nondescript little man... A kind of goner... But this fact does not mean anything. It’s here in Britain that they portray Jack the Ripper, whom, by the way, no one has ever seen, as a kind of tough thug who is useless to resist. But everyone knows what the serial killer-maniac Chikatilo looked like... Such a wimpy little guy... A goner... And he killed so many people that God forbid... Moreover, he used sadistic methods... Tormenting his victims before death... Gouging out eyes... Cutting off genitals...
The storyteller's cheeks began to tremble.
- I gave up on possible hiding places, on the ghostly money that could be stored in them. I ran away from this house as far as my eyes could see. In a fit of emotion, I decided to get rid of the ring. I should have thrown it into the river... But I didn’t dare... Just as I understood that I would lose sleep, that this ring would not give me peace... I couldn’t think of a better way to hand it over to a jewelry store in Chester... I say that the mind mine was foggy... I did the worst thing I could do. So I paid for it... Now I’m here...
Only now Jack realized that the prisoner had told him everything he knew. Only now the young but experienced detective realized that the time had come not to remain silent, but to ask questions.
“Tell me,” he began carefully. - Could you tell me how much time passed between the time you saw him on the bus and how you then came to him at night?
Dey answered almost immediately, without hesitation.
- Two month. Exactly two. Anticipating your question, why did I remember this, I answer. Penetrating into the house of this rogue at night on my birthday, I involuntarily caught myself thinking that two months had passed. After all, I was traveling on a bus from Rhyl to Chester on June 8th. I had important business and meetings that day. Because of them, I remember that date well.
- Yes, you really predicted my next question. I was just about to ask if you remember the date when you first saw the ring.
- Listen, Jack Bradley! Let's get this out of the way. Let's put an end to this! I've already told you a lot more than I should have. But I rely on your word of honor. I am confident that you will keep your promise. I know that you know how to keep your word. That you are a decent person. Don't let me down. I'm counting on the cops not to dig up anything that will keep me here for long. And sooner or later they will let me go. All! We put an end to the conversation about both the ring and this rogue. I understand that you want to know how he got it. But, if you are not a stupid person, and you are not a stupid person, then you must understand that I know nothing more about this ring. And there is nothing to add to what has been said about him. You yourself try to dig out what you need. Already without me. And without mentioning me. I said at the very beginning that from my story you will understand everything. If no one knows what exactly I saw this maniac loading a corpse into the trunk of his car, then there is no need to tell the cops that you learned about it from me. Tell them that you had a prophetic dream...
For the first time, Day allowed himself to smile and look at Jack playfully. He appreciated his joke.
- Thank you, Harry! Sincere thanks! - He said, getting ready to leave. – You really helped me. They helped a lot! Very! I am immensely grateful to you! Perhaps sometime in the future, I will do some kind deed for you as a sign of gratitude.
And with these words, Jack headed towards the door. But I heard something unexpected behind me
- I helped you not because you will do a good deed in the future, but because you have already done it... In the past...
Jack was about to knock on the door to call a guard who would let him out, but when he heard this, he froze for a moment, slowly turned around, and looked at the prisoner in surprise.
- What do you have in mind?
They stood for a long time and looked at each other. It was clear that Day was hesitating whether he should open up further or not.
- Okay... - He finally exhaled. - Since such a drinking session has already begun... Since I involuntarily ended up with such an “Evening of Revelations”, I’ll say about it. Although... It probably wouldn’t be worth it... But still...
Harry thought for a moment again, but then continued.
- We're about the same age, Jack. We are now in a period in our lives when it is simply impossible not to fall in love. I had many girls... But one... She... I don’t know what words to choose... For her sake I would be ready to die... I understand that such words sound pompous, but it’s true. I said this so that you understand... However, now you will understand everything anyway... Yourselves...
Jack thought he saw a tear glint in the corner of Harry's eye in the darkness. Hearing how unusually soulful Day's voice became, Bradley understood that this tear was not his imagination. She could very well be real.
- I'll tell you right away. She just as suddenly disappeared from my life as quickly as she burst into it. I know for sure that you will now start asking me about how to find her. I answer right away! I answer precisely and concisely! I don't know! I say this sincerely! I myself would like to find her... I am going crazy with longing for her... She is extraordinary... She is like a goddess...
The narrator's voice began to tremble, but he immediately pulled himself together.
- She was very hidden.. Very... But one day... At the moment when I did a very kind deed to her, she was so touched by it that she opened up. She says that there was only one person in her life who acted as nobly as I did. She, albeit sparingly, very briefly, but still in a fit of emotion that took possession of her then, spoke about a man who voluntarily refused a multimillion-dollar fee, just so as not to cause her troubles... He refused millions, just so... I think you all yourself you understand. After all, she named the private detective from Flint, Jack Bradley...
Jack looked at Harry with wide eyes.
- Your look speaks louder than any words, Jack. Here you and I are not on opposite sides of a prison door. This is where you and I are together, inside the same cell. In which she captivated us... I have no doubt that you still love her... Just like me...
It would seem that on this day there was nothing to surprise Jack. But this man, until now unknown to him, a former pickpocket, and now it is unclear who, did not try to surprise him.
Jack didn't know what to say. He was so excited that he was afraid that he, like Harry, would now have a tear in the corner of his eye.
- She... She has a birthmark... - Jack wanted to complete the question, but the words got stuck in his throat.
- Why are you asking, Jack? Even without my answer, you will understand perfectly well that we are both now thinking about the same girl... They say that if even the most beautiful diamond has at least one spot, then this jewel sharply drops in price. And a spot on this girl’s body, in a place known to both of us, not only does not spoil her, but decorates her so much that, as for me, she is a thousand, a million times more valuable and more important than that stupid ring that you are so worried about...
Entering the cell, Jack was sure that nothing and no one worried him more now than the ring. Now, leaving the cell, and then the prison building, Bradley understood that Harry Day was absolutely right! Now he was not thinking about the ring, but about the one that had burst into his life so enchantingly when, fulfilling an order from a customer, he had to play the role of Casanova...

Episode twelve
The Optics store, located in Shottoon, served not only the role of a store where you could simply buy glasses. This small building, located in the very center of the town neighboring Flint, also had offices where the doctor examined patients. He examined his vision for a long time and carefully, prescribed treatment if necessary, gave the necessary advice, determined visual acuity, and selected lenses for each specific patient.
Employees working in the store's exhibition pavilion were helping the next client choose the frame they liked. Fortunately, all the walls inside the store were lined with racks, on the shelves of which a huge number of frame samples were presented. There really was a lot of choice.
Clint left the store representative with the eyeglass lenses assigned to him, the frame he had chosen, and left this hospitable establishment in a good mood, knowing that in a couple of days he would receive a notification from the store informing him that he could come and pick up the finished order. Show off in front of the mirror with new glasses. Where the lenses are already inserted into the frame of his choice.
Paul Thomson was leaving this establishment in exactly the same wonderful mood. Alas, he was already at that age when his eyesight was declining, and wearing glasses became a vital necessity. This cup has not passed for yesterday's fishing enthusiast, and now a conscientious, quiet and submissive gardener working in the garden of Mrs. Molly Porter.
Leaving the store, Paul had absolutely no idea that on the opposite side of the street there was a parked car, the driver of which had been patiently waiting all this time for him to leave this establishment.
When Thomson left and disappeared around the corner, the driver got out of the car and hurried to the front door, above which hung an advertisement with the inscription “Optics”.
Three women, store workers, were sitting in the salon. Two of them worked with clients. The third's attention was focused on the laptop screen in front of her. The chair for clients next to her was free. It was on him that the driver sat down.
“Sorry,” he addressed the girl very politely. “A man in a hat and gray jacket just left you.” His name is Paul Thomson. Could you tell me which of your employees served it?
“I am.” The girl answered briefly, almost without looking at the questioner, trying not to take her eyes off the monitor screen. - I served him.
- That's fine! - The guy perked up. “Could you tell me what exactly brought him to you?”
The girl really wanted to finish the work she had started on the laptop, so she again answered with a delay, still looking at the screen, and not really paying attention to the one who was pestering her with questions.
- What did you actually want?
Only now she finally took her mind off the laptop, looked at the guy and... And almost went numb... It seemed to her that she had never seen such a handsome man. She was just at the age to which the phrase “actively searching” applies. This is, in fact, what she did. Out of duty. And then, while she was working, a certain angel came down from heaven and sat down right on the chair in front of her, who can only appear in dreams. Or in a dream. But no! It's not a dream! Here he is! Sits in front of her! Real! Alive! From flesh and blood!
“What brought him to us is what brings all other people.” – Her voice became much softer than the one with which the previous phrase was uttered. – Caused by poor eyesight. He ordered glasses from us.
And she involuntarily, purely automatically, out of habit, took a quick glance at the colorful packaging lying on the table. On top of it lay a colorful booklet advertising the Optics store, and on top of it were perched a frame and two glass rounds. Which, after processing, were destined to take place in the fastenings of the frame, which was still gaping with empty eye sockets.
- Is this his order? Yes?
The store worker would be happy to say that this is private information, and we do not give information to strangers, but the excited girl could not do anything other than squeeze out a timid, meek and gentle voice: “Yes...”
If an elderly woman sat in the girl’s place, and she was indifferent to the appearance of this overly inquisitive young man, she would be more attentive. And perhaps she would have noticed how some mysterious light flashed in the guy’s eyes. One would have guessed that this weasel had come up with something, made a split-second decision, and now wants to fool the unsuspecting store employee. But in the chair opposite the client was not an old lady, but a young girl who, as we have already said, is “Actively searching.” She, overwhelmed with emotions, did not pay attention to how the guy perked up.
- You see... - the unusual store visitor began tactfully. – The fact is that this is the person to whom I owe a lot. To whom I try to bring some small joys. I would like to surprise him now. Give him a much more luxurious, expensive, imported frame than the one he chose. Little of! I want to pay him for this order myself. Let's agree this way. If you don’t mind, of course... I really, really want you to don’t mind... - And the guy looked at her so that it seemed to her that at that moment she felt wet in the place we are talking about now, with With your permission, we will not mention it in our story. “I’ll bring you this new frame tomorrow, and perhaps this evening.” I'll tell you. If necessary, I will pay for the order immediately. You, or your employees, will insert these lenses into my frame. And when he comes to pick up the order, you will say that he turned out to be some kind of anniversary, thousandth or hundred thousandth client of your wonderful company! And she decided to give him a gift! Make him happy with a more expensive, beautiful, imported frame! And, as the hero of the day, do all the work for free! At the expense of the company! Shall we do it? Agreed?!
The girl looked at the guy with unblinking eyes, and realized that she was unable to say “No.” The guy regarded this silent pause as the girl’s doubts, so he decided, as they say, to make a “control shot.” To be sure.
- I share gifts not only with this person. I know how to reciprocate many people who help me in some way. A gift awaits you too. For starters, we can just have dinner together. On the day and time that suits you. When I bring you the frames, you will show them to me. Do you mind?
And without waiting for an answer, he stood up and said as he walked: “See you!” and hurried to the exit.
The guy knew his worth very well. He knew that if girls often almost immediately want to jump into his bed, then it would not be difficult for her to fulfill such a trivial request, which he now addressed to this cutie. He was sure that she would not refuse.
The visitor left, but for a long time the girl could not pull herself together and get to work. Her hands were literally shaking. She would be glad to show some kind of activity herself, if only this divine handsome man would pay attention to her. And then he himself invited her to dinner...
This was more than could be expected from the first meeting...
It was like a beautiful fairy tale...
She collected the order, signed with the name Paul Thomson, put everything in a bag, and did not take it to the specialist who inserted the lenses into the frames, but hid it in her desk drawer.

Episode thirteen
Paul Thomson drove up to the garage door, turned off the engine, got out, went to the trunk, opened it, took out a bag, slammed the trunk and headed to the front door leading into the house.
It was at this time, out of nowhere, as if from underground, that a good-naturedly smiling young man appeared in front of him.
- Good evening, Mr. Thomson. Is the bag heavy? Maybe I can help you?
Paul shuddered all over. Both from surprise and from a premonition of trouble. Although this handsome young man had a radiant smile, Paul understood perfectly well what lay behind it, everything but good nature and carefreeness.
- Why are you so confused? “The tone of the voice was as if this guy was mocking him, Paul. -Are you probably tired? After all, they worked all day in Mrs. Porter’s garden. How is she doing, by the way? How is her health? I know that she prefers peace and quiet. Is no one bothering her? If there are any, then tell me. I will help you find justice for him. After all, I'm a detective!
Something inside Paul snapped. He wanted to throw the bag somewhere into the distance. So that she, having flown over the fence, would now be not on the territory of his yard, but on the street! So that he, Thomson, could say: “This is not mine! I have nothing to do with her!”
- Let's go into the house, or sit down somewhere in the garden. I want to talk to you, Mr. Thomson. This will last a long time... Don't leave your purse! Take it with you. Such big money cannot be left unattended...
In such cases, the writer applies to the hero of his story the hackneyed phrase that he felt like an invisible noose began to squeeze his throat more and more, making it difficult to breathe. But in this case everything happened much faster. Jack's single phrase made it clear to Paul that the noose did not slowly begin to choke him, but immediately squeezed him so that it was completely impossible for him to breathe. And move too. Fear paralyzed his consciousness, will and body. Definitely a body. He couldn't take a single step.
- Here is a comfortable bench under this tree, Mr. Thomson. Let's sit down.
If earlier, when Paul installed a small wooden table and two benches under this branchy tree in his yard, he knew that someday the moment would come when he would sit on one of these benches as if in an electric chair, instead of a table and An anti-tank hedgehog would have dug up benches in this place. Jokes aside, but now that the uninvited guest sat down, the confused and depressed Thomson had no choice but to sit down opposite him.
- Let's agree right away. “The impudent stranger immediately spoke up, who, being a guest at this courtyard, immediately took on the role of master of the situation. - You are not thinking now about how you can get out of this situation. Or worse: plan to eliminate me as an unwanted witness. Both are pointless. The police not only know about your crime, but are also located around your home. Yes Yes! Don't be surprised and don't look at me like that. They know the fact that you are a blackmailer and extortionist. They know that you now have in this cute bag the next batch of money that you defrauded from your mistress. Mrs. Molly Porter. Therefore, I will not deceive you, and I will be frank with you. Soon, at the end of our conversation, the police, after I give them the prearranged signal, will come here, take you under your white hands, and escort you to where... Well, you understand where...
Paul's face turned chalk white.
This surprised the detective.
“I can’t understand why you reacted so painfully to my words.” What are you doing? Do you live in another, parallel world?! You are no longer a boy. At your age, it’s time to understand that sooner or later any crime becomes known. For any crime, if this world is worth anything, and if there should be justice in it, it would be necessary to answer. Therefore, you will definitely have to answer for blackmail and extortion. Inevitably and unconditionally! To the fullest extent of the law! But…
The narrator pointedly raised his finger up.
- I can... I don’t promise, but I may not tell the police about some of your other affairs that I know about. Only I know, and no one else! I am aware that from the point of view of the law I am doing the wrong thing. But I'm not a cop... I'm a private detective. Private... I don’t owe anything to anyone and I can take some liberties. Therefore, I may repeat: perhaps I will keep silent about some of your crimes, if you right now, honestly and truthfully, tell me about one case that interests me very much. About a ring with an expensive stone...
Paul's already deathly white face became even paler.
He was silent. Now he remembered how, at the hour when he was taking the discovery that amazed him from the glove compartment of Matthew Philips’ car, he mentally repeated to himself: “By taking this thing, you are signing your own death warrant!” His heart and mind spoke, shouted to him about it, but his hands did not obey his mind... They were irresistibly drawn to the alluring find... Now the moment has come for Paul to cruelly pay for that moment of mental weakness...
Without waiting for an answer, the detective lowered his head, shook it sadly, and sighed heavily.
“You apparently don’t realize what you’ve gotten yourself into.” At the police station you will tell everything anyway. You will sing like a nightingale! They know how to loosen the tongues of naive cunning and silent people like you. Experienced criminals, seasoned murderers and scoundrels are healed there, receive their sight, and have the gift of speech. Who considered themselves tough nuts to crack. The cops won't have any problems with you. Believe me! I give you a chance, and instead of taking advantage of it, you play cat and mouse with me... I mentally count to ten. If you don’t speak, then... You will see for yourself...
Before the fight, the organizers arrange for the boxers what is called the “Fight of Eyes.” Now such a fight, such a competition, was between the detective and his victim. Both did not take their eyes off each other. But, if the look of one was dominated by firmness and confidence, then in the eyes of the second, clouded with fear, panic and confusion reigned.
- Well, well... Everything is clear... I’ll tell you a secret, I’ve loved playing this game for a long time. I give the criminal one chance. I promise to keep silent about one of his crimes. If he doesn’t use it, then no force will force me to remain silent about it. If the villain didn’t feel sorry for himself, then why should I show leniency towards him?! I'm giving him a second, last chance. I promise him that I won't tell the police about his second crime. But I will definitely talk about the first one! I repeat: absolutely! So in our case... I’ll now mentally count down ten seconds again. But I want you to know. Because of your stubbornness and your stupid desire to play silent, I will definitely, firmly and irrevocably tell the cops about one of your atrocities that they do not yet know about... Do you want to know which one?
The detective looked at his victim without blinking. He, in turn, became so tense that it seemed that he not only did not blink, but did not even breathe.
Seeing that his interlocutor was silent, the detective rapped out almost syllable by syllable:
- From the corpse from your cellar... Which you loaded into your car in the middle of the night... And drove away to hide the traces of your crime...
Just as Mendeleev once managed to place the names of all the chemical elements on one sheet of paper, so Paul Thomson has now managed to show on his face all the feelings that are subject to man. His face was truly scary to look at. He was depressed and crushed.
- I repeat! I need information about the ring! Everything you know! If you remain silent after my next countdown, then... However, what will happen next, you will see for yourself. What happened after the first countdown, and how dearly your stupid silence cost you, you just saw! So, here I go! One two Three…

Episode fourteen
The room was so quiet that both people, sitting silently near the coffee table and leisurely and appetizingly sipping tea, heard the rhythmic clicking of the wall clock mechanism.
Finally, one of them, taking another sip of the aromatic drink, took a deep breath, and broke the silent pause.
- I’m very glad, Jackie, that I finally found time, pushed all my affairs aside, and came to you for at least half an hour, for a cup of tea. Like the good old days... When I went to visit your father, and he came to me... Lord! How long ago was it... Like in another life...
- Thank you, Mr. Neal, for not forgetting about my father. Why do you speak so warmly of him? Thank you…
- It’s impossible to talk bad about him. He was the most amazing person! You're all into it! Well, why, what, but you know how to surprise... Now you surprised not only me, but also all my colleagues! Both here in Flint and in Chester! Yeah... And you still admire Ned Baxter... You're cooler than him! Solved several crimes in one fell swoop! Aerobatics! Super! How will you manage? Reveal the secret! By old friendship!
Jack smiled mysteriously and took a sip of tea.
- Well... I probably shouldn’t give away all my professional secrets. But I can share some of them. Although... What secrets can there be in our time, the age of on-on-technology and artificial intelligence? Now there are so many cunning devices for surveillance that you know very well about them even without me. I like to do things the old fashioned way sometimes. Almost like Ned Baxter's time. Well, under him, of course, this did not exist, but spies and intelligence officers back in the last century used micro-cameras and micro-microphones, secretly and unnoticeably built into pens, lighters, and glasses. It was in the frame of Thomson’s glasses that I installed a video of the eye, a micro-camera, with the help of which I saw everything that he himself saw. In the office on the monitor, I saw how he took money from his mistress... I saw how he secretly, naively believing that no one was watching him at that hour, climbed into his hiding places, greedily stroked the bundles of money that he kept there... So Now, in our time, having such technologies, it’s easier for me than for my idol Baxter.
“You admire our famous fellow countryman so much, although I think you already surpass him in skill and fame.” It’s just that everyone knows about him from books, but no one writes about you yet. Listen! What kind of writer is this who started writing about Baxter? We locals have known about Ned for a long time. Almost from generation to generation, stories about his amazing and mysterious affairs, which he revealed, were passed on from mouth to mouth. But we were just talking about it! No one has ever written about him! Perhaps because no writers ever lived in Flint who would have thought of glorifying their fellow countryman in books. Now a man appeared... Judging by his last name, a foreigner... And in his works he began to do something incredible! Just as Conan Doyle glorified the name of Sherlock Holmes, London and 221-b Baker Street, so this writer is now glorifying to the whole world our fellow countryman Ned Baxter, and our town of Flint, and the street and house where Ned lived: 135 Bolingbroke Street ! He clearly does a lot of useful things to promote our Flint!
- So that’s what I’m talking about! Everyone in Flint knew about their fellow countryman, the brilliant detective Ned Baxter, but no one even thought of writing books about him. Until a refugee from Ukraine came to us... From Kherson...
James Neal sighed heavily.
- Yes... What is happening now in Ukraine is definitely a big drama... I am following the news. I know what is happening there... Especially in Kherson... This is the only regional center that was captured by the invaders. Perhaps out of annoyance that they were driven out of there, they bombed this long-suffering city in revenge. They actually bomb every day! Every! It’s impossible to live there now! And what happened when the invaders blew up the Kakhovka dam and the waters of the Dnieper actually flooded the whole of Kherson... Horror...
- Agree. The fate of Ukraine, Kherson, is tragic. The fate of this writer, a native of Kherson, is also surprising. I read a huge article about him in one of the popular newspapers in Wales. Before becoming a refugee, he asked to go to the front! Himself, voluntarily! But he is no longer young, he is at retirement age. But something else is surprising! A man who lived in Ukraine and had never been outside its borders wrote books about the history of Great Britain all his life! Yes! Exactly! Including writing the historical trilogy “Doomsday of England”, which is stunning in its power! Where, almost like an experienced historian, he described in a fascinating way the events of the Great English bourgeois revolution of the seventeenth century! Confrontation between King Charles the First and Oliver Cromwell! It feels like this man lived here in Britain in his previous life!
- Well, it’s necessary! This is truly unusual and phenomenal! And the fact that this refugee ended up anywhere, namely here, in the UK, in Wales, in Flint, is perhaps a sign from above! We, the residents of Flint, and the government of our town should be proud that such a person lives in our city! Does something useful for him! Glorifies him!
- So I mean the same thing, Mr. Neal! I heard that all Ukrainian refugees, due to the war in their country, were given permission to live here with us for only three years. It will be a shame if in three years this writer is sent back to Ukraine, to his destroyed and flooded Kherson. It would be logical if the city government of Flint would assist in obtaining permanent residence for this writer in our city. Let him continue to glorify Flint in his books!
- Let's hope, Jackie, my boy, that this will happen. And do you know what I thought? If this continues, this writer will write books not only about detective Ned Baxter. He will start writing detective novels about another brilliant resident of Flint! A private investigator, like Ned. About a certain Jack Bradley!
Jackie had already brought the cup to his lips to take another sip from the now almost empty cup, but upon hearing this, he removed the edge of the cup from his lips. Then he thought, smiled, and said:
- I wanted to be indignant... To say that we are talking about a serious matter, and you are joking, Mr. Neal. But these words of yours gave me an idea for which I should not reproach you, but thank you! This is what I thought... If this writer does not pay attention to me and does not write about me, which, to be honest, I sincerely would like... After all, I am avidly reading his books about Baxter. Why shouldn’t others, with the same passion, read stories about the cases that I solved?! Some of them are no less mysterious, exciting and fascinating! So... If he doesn’t write about this, then I myself, when, in my old age, retire from business and retire, I will begin to creak my pen. Write detective novels about your adventures...
James Neal first raised his eyebrows, demonstrating his surprise, and then put a face on his face, eloquently indicating that he completely agreed with what was said.
- Great idea! I approve!
- And if you encourage me, then give your word that you will help me to have more mysterious, and, so to speak, romantic affairs, so that I won’t be ashamed to write books about them. We both benefit from this. This example is proof of this. You have introduced me to the case of another diamond, over which, as in the case of Ned Backstrom, a certain curse hangs. And maybe I’ll write a book about this stone, this ring. After all, I looked through many cases related to this trinket. There really is a long bloody tail of endless crimes and murders trailing behind her... And I, judging by your words, helped you solve a bunch of different cases. You will benefit from this too! So let's help our friend! I have enough of my own to do. Those that I am assigned to investigate in our detective agency. But, if you entrust me with your especially mysterious cases, in the style of Ned Baxter, then I will gladly take on them!
Neil smiled.
- Well... For the sake of world literature... For the sake of detective lovers in all countries having the opportunity to read novels that came from the pen... From the creaky pen of the writer Jack Bradley, I am ready to make such a deal! I promise that I will visit you on the most intriguing cases that our department will investigate.
- First, promise me that you will leave me the case of this mysterious old millionaire. You will investigate the murder of Matthew Philips to the end yourself, without me. Although, there is nothing to investigate there. You know the name of this Jack the Ripper of the local Flint spill. A former quiet fisherman, and then an obedient and humble gardener, Paul Tomosn. What a bastard... It would seem that his murder was not as cruel as Jack the Ripper! Our gardener didn’t cut anyone’s throat. There were no rivers of blood! But the method of his murder was no less sophisticated. He starved his victim to death with the city! Jars with seams and barrels of pickles were upstairs. And below, where he was imprisoned, there were only mountains of potatoes, beets, and carrots... The poor fellow gnawed on them with cheeses... In order to at least satisfy his hunger and save his life... Alas... But...
Jack noted and shook his head sadly.
- My interest in the ring has cooled so far... What once happened is, of course, interesting, but now there is nothing for me to investigate regarding this trinket. She was not kidnapped, her current whereabouts are known to everyone. We already know how it fell into the hands of our quiet gardener. He told everything...
Jack sighed again and looked intently at his guest.
- Of all the heap of these cases, there is only one unsolved mystery left. The one and only... The burning secret... The mystery that might be so fascinating that I might write a book about it... Is this what exactly Jones Ryder and Matthew Phillips used to blackmail Mrs. Molly Porter? It’s completely clear that she wouldn’t pay them such large sums because of some trifle. And all the time! Over, as I understand it, a long period of time! Just as a quiet and modest gardener turned out to be actually a cruel murderer who starved his victim to death, so this sweet old woman, God's dandelion, may turn out to be just as cruel a criminal, in comparison with whom the Jack the Ripper we mentioned will look like an innocent child! What lies behind the millionaire's secret? This is the tangle of secrets I want to unravel! This is the case I want to investigate! Give it to me, Mr. Neal! Let me complete it!
He smiled ironically.
- I don’t just allow it, my boy, I do it with joy! Get busy! I have a lot of other things to do! No one is asking me for reports on what Madame, now in her old age, once did in her youth. Yes, her current poisoning of the blackmailer-Philips, a thread reaches to the origins and causes of blackmail. Investigate it! I repeat, I have something to do. For example, we just can’t solve the riddle: where did Mr. Alvin Gibson go?! An absolutely amazing and incomprehensible story!
Jack put a mask of sincere surprise on his face.
- So if the story is amazing and mysterious, then why don’t you tell me about it?!
- I'm telling you! This is an unusual matter... It’s as if we had nothing to do with it. This is not about a resident of our town. But this amazing, inexplicable advent happened on our territory. Almost in Flint...
- Why are you all stalling?! You intrigue me! Tell us! I'm already interested in this matter.
- Make no mistake, Jackie. Contrary to your expectations, there will be no cursed diamonds, pirate treasures, or mysterious murders here. Perhaps the crime itself does not exist. As the guys from our department joke, who have a sharp tongue, that perhaps this rogue did not just disappear, but, for example, ran away from his wife to his mistress. And we are wasting our time looking for him. But... Jokes aside, this is really not a joke at all. The point is this.
Neil rubbed his chin with his fingers, as if deciding where to start, and continued.
- The Rhyl police department received a statement from a certain Mrs. Eva Florence that her husband had disappeared without a trace. We started looking. Alas, to no avail. But, if he was not found, then his car was found quite quickly. He stood quietly and peacefully on the side of the road leading from Flint towards Rhyl. The car was examined, and the reason why the car could not move quickly became clear. It is absolutely clear that this is why Eva Florence’s husband abandoned his car and, apparently, drove on by hitchhiking. After all, and this is the main thing, no traces of violence were found either inside the car or near it! The doors were locked and the trunk too. It is not difficult to realize that Mr. Tom Florence did all this himself, slowly, without fuss, hoping to return to his iron horse later. Already along with technical assistance. But he never returned... Disappeared... Disappeared without a trace...
The narrator fell silent for a minute. Jack took advantage of this.
-Who was the last person to see him?
- Relatives in Wreckham. Business unexpectedly kept him there until late at night. But he still stopped by to give them a gift. They also tried to persuade him to stay and spend the night, but he left...
- When was this? Do you remember the date?
- Of course! This hanger is my main headache right now. Wake up in the middle of the night and I'll tell you the date. This was on the night from the seventh to the eighth of June.
Jack's eyes became wide with surprise.
- This is interesting... Then my next question is this. You probably questioned this gardener at your department. And more than once. Maybe he told you something new? He told me that he simply drove Matthew's car closer to Prestatyn and threw it off a cliff. Heading there, he definitely passed by the place where the missing gentleman had left his car. Most likely, the gardener picked up this little guy!
Neil smiled sadly.
- Do you think such an idea didn’t occur to us? I also thought that along with the car, Thomson could have sent his possible traveling companion into the waters of the bay. I'll say more! I expected to find the car along with Tom's corpse! Alas... Divers examined the entire bottom nearby, but found nothing... Apparently, there was a high tide, the windows in the car were closed, the door rubbers fit tightly to the body, maintaining tightness... Most likely, the waves, like a rubber ball, carried the car into the ocean. Where he drowned... After all, it is precisely in that place that the bay is rapidly expanding, growing into the ocean...
- It is necessary to interrogate Thomson until he admits that it was he who picked up a fellow traveler on the road, and then for some reason killed him. Did he tell you the date he sank Matthew's car?
- No. He kept referring to the fact that he did not remember. And although he showed with all his appearance that he repented and was trying to help the investigation, I don’t really believe in his sincerity. Although there is no reason to shout that he is lying. A lot of time has really passed since then! After that, he starved the owner of this car in his cellar for two months. Then you followed him for a long time, then we interrogated him. During this time, he really could have forgotten exactly what and exactly night he drowned his blackmailer’s car.
Having said this, Neil threw up his hands, saying, “I can’t do anything.”
Jack, on the contrary, perked up.
- So that's what I'll tell you! “He said in a loud, almost solemn voice. – Paul Thomson drowned his car on the night of June 7-8! This is absolutely true! This is beyond doubt! And it was on this night that the owner of an abandoned car disappeared on the way from Flint to Prestatyn! Never in my life will I believe that this is just a coincidence! These two crimes are definitely related! On the same night... At the same time... In the same place... They can't be just a coincidence!
James Neal looked at the heated Jack with wide eyes of surprise.
- Sorry... Are you sure about this? How do you know that Paul sank that damn car that night?
The guy was confused for a moment, but immediately answered:
- I had a prophetic dream! I am sure that the disappearance of the owner of a car abandoned halfway was Paul’s doing! He assured me that his murder of Matthew Phillips looked like some kind of self-defense. That otherwise he would never have raised his hand to kill someone. I don't think so. I suspect... I'm almost sure that Paul Thomson has another murder on his conscience! Consider that your hanging has already been revealed. We know where Mr. Tom Florence has gone. He was killed. Our Jack the Ripper did it!
Jack Bradley's interlocutor looked at him with wide eyes of surprise.
- I feel like I’ll write a book not only about the secret of millionaire Molly Porter! I have an idea! Go!
He stood up sharply and hurried to the entrance.
It was in his office that the Flint police chief felt like a commander and loved to give orders. Here, in Jack’s house, he now caught himself thinking that he was not only ready to fulfill this request, almost an order from this mustache-less youth, but he was even immensely glad to obey and fulfill this order! “Someday this boy will surpass me and take a place in my office!” - a thought flashed through his mind. But he left these considerations for later.
Now he immediately hurried after Jack.
The room is empty
There were two cups of unfinished tea left on the coffee table...

Completion date for this story: November 20, 2023
Place of birth of the story: Great Britain, North Wales, Flint, Bolingbroke Street 135.



You are provided with the text of the next story of the new detective series, the author of which translated from Russian into English using the usual Google translator. We really need a literary editor for the English texts of these detective book series. I am ready to pay for the work of an editor and translator. Respond! Thank you! Best regards, author.
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