A dangerous wish-fulfillment artist

By EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

Private detective Tatiana Ivanova found a disabled girl Lisa, who disappeared from her own yard. Now the detective is eager to find the scoundrel who abused the sick child for three days. Traces of the scoundrel lead to other crimes, but the victims this time were not lucky, unlike Lisa, they were not left alive. On the back of all the victims written in black color word "STAN", and Tanya at all costs need to solve this sinister rebus ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: EDGARS AUZINS
• Release date: Jun 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227625816

EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

Dzimis 1989. gada 22. decembrī. Absolvējis Rīgas Juridisko koledžu. Profesijā nav strādājis, bet apguvis programmēšanas prasmes un pašlaik ar to nodarbojas. Kopš 2022. gada ir personīgā uzņēmuma vadītājs, kas nodarbojas ar transporta pārvadājumiem, kā arī programmēšanu. Dzīvnieku, īpaši suņu, mīļotājs. Born 22 December 1989. Graduated from Riga College of Law. Has not worked in the profession, but has acquired programming skills and is currently working in it. Since 2022 he has been the CEO of his own company, which deals with transport transport as well as programming. Lover of animals, especially dogs.

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Prologue

Twenty years ago

Dusk had not yet completely fallen on this godforsaken town when he ran out of the house. The weather was warm, despite the fact that it was already September, but he threw on a light old blouse. On the way back, when he returns with his mother, the temperature may drop a few degrees, and it will no longer be as hot as during the day. The evenings are not as warm now as they were just recently, in August.

Having run through the garden and, as usual, picking a ripe apple as he went, he ran out the gate. With a quick step, sometimes jumping and biting an apple as he went, he rushed across the main street, then through an abandoned old park overgrown with bushes and grass and headed down the broken sidewalk. The road led to the river.

He gnawed at the apple, threw the core aside and began to run lightly in order to quickly reach the bridge. Once in place, he stopped and, stretching his neck like a goose, peered into the twilight. Mom was still not visible, but he was used to the fact that she did not always appear near the bridge at the same time. Sometimes he waited for her for half an hour, but he still waited.

Mother...

Dear mother, so kind, sometimes angry, and at times domineering and tyrannical. Yes, you don’t choose your parents, but he loved his mother, despite the fact that sometimes she undeservedly scolded him, raised her voice and even raised her hand to him several times. Mom also had one weakness: pawning by the collar. Sometimes she invited some dubious friends, but mostly she dealt with this addiction alone.

He did not consider his mother’s hobby something bad and shameful. Just think, mom likes to drink wine. Yes, almost everyone in this provincial town loved to drink. And every day, especially in the late afternoon, one could meet loitering individuals in a state of alcoholic intoxication on the streets. Some simply walked, swaying, some could barely stand, and some, especially in groups, sang songs. For some reason, this was considered the norm here and caused no one either surprise or disgust. So he, despite his young age, believed that there was nothing reprehensible in the fact that my mother sometimes drinks a bottle of wine, and then...

Then it always happened differently. Mom could just go to bed, barely making it to her bed. Very rarely she sang songs, only if in the company of her friends. But it happened that the devil seemed to possess her and she turned into an angry, uncontrollable woman. It was then that he, a little boy, believed that his mother was reincarnating as a witch and that he needed time to wait out this moment and not fall under the hot hand.

Usually at such moments he would run away from home, but he would not go far. He holed up in the garden of their private house or took refuge in the shed where the firewood was stored. Only once did he have to take refuge in the large booth of the neighbor's kind dog. But that was three years ago, he was still very small, so he fit into the doghouse quite easily. The kind neighbor's dog was not at home at that time, apparently wandering, as usual, along the dark streets. And then the mother showed remarkable aggression, which greatly frightened the little six-year-old boy. It was then that she was the most evil witch.

But this only happened a couple of times. The next morning mom was kind, calm and a little distracted. I fed him breakfast and went to work. He didn’t go to kindergarten; his mother didn’t see any point in it. Usually, from the age of five, he could easily be at home on his own. Sometimes the neighbor's grandmother came, sort of like a distant relative. He will come, cook him porridge or soup, sit for a while and leave.

He didn't have a father. More precisely, the father, of course, was somewhere, but he knew nothing about him and had never seen him. No one judged his mother for this, and he was never laughed at or called fatherless. And he even looked with sympathy at those guys who had fathers. And they drank a lot more, unlike his mother. In addition, they were very rowdy and hooligan. And sometimes he was even glad that he didn’t have such a father. Of course, deep down he understood that there are completely different fathers and it would be nice if he had one. However, he didn't have any. And he wasn’t particularly worried about this.

One day he asked his mother about his father. She looked at him sternly and said that she herself did not know where he was now. And that he is most likely very, very far away. And after a while she answered vaguely:

"Your father came from afar, fell on me out of the blue, gave you to me and left forever to his distant lands.

- So what, dad never even wanted to visit me? – he was surprised.

He doesn’t even know that he has you, came the answer.

The only thing is, one day he asked his mother what his father looked like.

Very handsome, the mother answered with a breath, so strong, dark hair and a beard. You look a lot like him. You only have my eyes, but otherwise you are a copy of him. I wouldn't be surprised if when you grow up, you also have a beard.

This conversation was etched in his memory, and he was sure that he would be like his father, even though he had never seen him.

He loved his mom no matter what. Loved, respected and appreciated. And almost every evening he went to meet her at the bridge.

...He looked at the river and took a deep breath. So autumn has come, school is back, damn it, and you can no longer swim in the river, the water is no longer as warm as in the summer.

Once again he peered into the distance, where the path stretched beyond the bridge, to see if his mother was walking there with a can of milk. Almost every evening he ran here to meet his mother. She, tired after working on the farm, with a scarf on her head, appeared from around the corner where the bushes grew, and every time a smile appeared on her face when she saw him. In her hand she always carried a small can of fresh milk. He loved this milk very much, he drank a whole large glass at home with a bun.

Yes, he knew that mom was sometimes late, but today for some reason she was gone for a very long time. It was already completely dark outside. He stood near the bridge for more than an hour and continued to peer into the darkness, but did not see anyone there.

Buttoning his old jacket almost to his throat, he praised himself for his foresight. Without a jacket he would be very cold right now. He had an unexpected impulse to run across the bridge and go towards the farm. However, he remembered his mother’s words not to run there, but to always wait for her near the bridge. He visited her at work several times, but his mother always instructed him to wait right here, by the river, arguing that at dusk he might get lost or they might simply go their separate ways.

He waited patiently for another ten minutes and decided to cross the bridge to the other side. After standing for a while, I reached a turn where the bushes and trees began. Here the view was better, although because of the darkness nothing was really visible.

Suddenly, some kind of anxiety arose in his soul, a slight excitement, as if something bad had happened. But he pushed these thoughts away and again peered into the darkness, hoping to see the silhouette of his mother there. However, there was still no one there. The wind also increased, the tree crowns rustled frighteningly, and there was a smell of rain.

At that moment, he did not yet know that he would never again wait for his mother, walking towards him with a can of fresh milk. And he will remember this day for the rest of his life. And perhaps he should not have shown courage and walked to the farm in the dark. Perhaps then he would not have seen what was undesirable to see at his too young age...

After standing for some time in indecision and wondering what to do - return home, continue to wait, or risk running to the farm and try to look for his mother there, he finally stepped forward and headed towards the farm, disappearing into the darkness.

Nowadays

Once again, I enjoyed the beach much less than I expected.

For several days in a row, I studied the weather forecast and hopelessly hunted for the sun. What’s wrong with the fact that I have an incredible desire to get a tan, or better yet, to become a chocolate bar? Therefore, waking up wildly early every day - that is, around ten in the morning - the first thing I did was look out the window and look at the sky, then at the thermometer, and finally on the Internet at the weather reports. After which, inspired, she collected all the necessary belongings and rushed headlong to the beach.

Laughter and nothing more!

The most I could do was lie for an hour on the wet sand, sometimes cowering from the cold breath of the Volga. And every time, exactly an hour later, as if at the request of TV viewers, clouds would roll in, the wind would rise, dust and cold would set in. And I, irritated and angry, collected my things and returned back, thinking along the way about whether I should send this idea with a tan to hell. In addition, nowadays there are a lot of different solariums and quartz lamps where you can get an even and good tan without being insulted by the weather.

Well, that’s not a bad idea: I’ll go to the solarium, become a chocolate bar, and then I’ll go to a nightclub and dance the tumba-rumba until the morning.

The idea seemed quite tempting to me, but this morning the sun was burning mercilessly, there was not a cloud in the sky and the temperature was over thirty Celsius.

So I decided to give myself another chance.

However, this time everything did not go as desired.

Firstly, some snotty kid was digging a huge hole nearby, throwing sand over his shoulder and absolutely not paying attention to whether there was anyone nearby. Two handfuls of sand have already landed on my beach mat. I could have said something and even been indignant, but I decided that it was not my business at all to discipline other people’s children or teach parents to be parents. In modern times, people give children life, but are not going to be responsible for them. Instead, they push children out into society and then complain about increased crime or unemployment.

I sadly shook my head and rolled over onto my stomach, exposing my back to the sun. If a walk to the beach doesn't make you happy, at least have a good tan. Let's hope that my new sunscreen will block all the harmful parts of the ultraviolet rays and let through only the beneficial ones for tanning.

However, by this time the sun had become so hot and my back was getting so hot that I began to doubt the quality of the cream I had chosen. And since my thoughts were initially already directed in the wrong direction, all sorts of nonsense continued to pop into my head. I immediately thought that cosmetic companies were cutting costs without thinking at all about the consequences. Apparently, it is cheaper to get good lawyers and fight off medical claims than to produce high-quality cream.

It gets worse: I’ve never had any thoughts about skin cancer, but at the moment I’m worried for some reason. And why, when I woke up this morning, the sun was inviting, luring. And now it looked more like a red-hot ball of fate, scattering tumors across the skin. It's worth it? Die from cancer at thirty just for the sake of a good tan?

Absolutely not.

Nowadays people think only about the present, forgetting about the future. There is nothing more important to us than health...

Yes, Tatyana, what thoughts do you have today. Is it really the fault of a crazy child throwing sand around and poor-quality cream that doesn’t protect from the hot sun?

I'm usually hard to get off balance, but today is definitely not my day.

It’s probably because I’m idle, I thought, after which I sat down and pulled on a T-shirt.

My mood was spoiled; I didn’t even want to swim along the Volga. Then you will have to change clothes, comb your hair... And I wouldn’t risk leaving my things and iPhone unattended. So I’d better go home and rinse off in a cool shower.

I was about to turn around and head towards the parking lot where I left my Citroen, but suddenly something stopped me...

The woman sitting about three meters to my left had already attracted my attention. She sat right on the sand, huddled into a ball, as if the weather outside was not hot, but chilly. She constantly hid her face in her palms, sometimes looking up from them, and looked ahead with a distant gaze. The woman was not like the other sunbathers; she was wearing a sundress, which, apparently, she had no intention of taking off. Her bare shoulders, exposed to the open sun for a long time, already looked like two red spots.

For some reason, I felt sympathy for this young woman; her whole appearance indicated that she was not feeling well, perhaps she had some problems. And I, being an observant person, immediately drew attention to her.

I also have this trait - I can never calmly pass by if I even roughly understand that a person needs help. And I don’t always receive gratitude in return, but I can’t do anything about it. That's my nature. Apparently, the profession leaves its mark.

At this moment I wanted to offer the woman my sunscreen. True, I already doubted its quality, but it’s still better than getting sunburn.

Therefore, before leaving, I nevertheless approached the woman and lightly touched her hand.

- Excuse me, are you okay? – I asked sympathetically.

The woman took her palms away from her face and looked at me with sad eyes. It seemed to me or I saw stagnant tears in them.

- What? – she asked confused. - Ahh... thank you. Everything is fine.

– The fact is that I’m already leaving the beach. Maybe you should leave your sunscreen? It seems to me that your shoulders will soon burn," I handed her my cream.

It’s nothing, the woman even tried to smile, but she did it very poorly. - I'll be leaving here soon.

But be that as it may, you still need to anoint your shoulders. Take it! – and I put the tube next to her. - By the way, maybe I can give you some water? I have one bottle left," with these words I reached into my shapeless beach bag.

- Girl, you are so kind to me. I really won’t refuse water, I didn’t think to take something with me.

You’re welcome, I answered, handed her a small bottle of already warm water and, before turning around and leaving, I finally said: And don’t worry! Life is Beautiful and amazing! And everything in this world is relative.

The woman looked up at me, and I saw so much sadness in them, which is why I immediately realized that I had said too much.

Yes... it’s beautiful, I heard in response.

Sorry... I muttered and already turned around to leave and leave this sad woman alone with herself.

Following some kind of inner impulse - maybe intuition, I don’t know - I again reached into my bag, rummaged in the inner pocket and pulled out my business card.

- Take it! Maybe it will come in handy," and I handed the woman a laminated piece of cardboard.

She took the business card and, without even looking at it, said:

– You are probably a psychologist?

No, I answered honestly. – I’m not a psychologist, but sometimes I can be very useful to people. Although, to be honest, I don’t wish you anything that would make you turn to me. But anything can happen in life.

I don't usually hand out my business cards left and right. But at the moment, succumbing to my inner impulse, I decided to do it. In most cases, if people need my services, they find me themselves. But there were also times when I picked up the phone and heard something like: You once left me your business card, and I need your help.

At the moment I was not doing anything, I was absolutely free and was already beginning to languish from idleness. If I were busy with some interesting and complex investigation - and I don’t have any others - then I wouldn’t hang around the beaches all day and fill my head with all sorts of nonsense. Therefore, I no longer minded plunging fully into some kind of dizzying investigation with solving other people’s secrets, charades, bringing villains to light, perhaps with chases and pursuits. Sometimes the more complex and dangerous the case, the more interesting it is for me. I usually don't take on boring things. But anything can happen... And in most cases, work finds me on its own. At the moment, I couldn’t even imagine that I had found a job for myself. And what kind.

I got to my car, which was heating up in the sun, but the cabin has such a good option as air conditioning.

Once inside my beloved Citroen, I turned on the cooler and, closing my eyes, blissfully stretched out in the chair. I started thinking: what should I do with myself during this day?

Yes, it’s clear why, you don’t even need to think about it. I’ll go home, take a cool shower, turn on the air conditioner, make a cup of aromatic coffee and enjoy my solitude. You can watch some exciting movie or read a book. And in the evening...

I took out my iPhone, went to WhatsApp and wrote a message:

Tonight as usual?

A couple of minutes later I received an answer:

"Hello, Tanyusha! Of course And don’t forget what you promised me...»

«Fine. Since I promised, that means... In general, wait for me in the evening. You're wearing sparkling pink."

"What about sandwiches with red caviar?»

By itself!

I adore you! I’ll wait for you in the evening.

I smiled blissfully, started the engine and drove home.

* * *

- Why are you drawing me?

I asked this very carefully, barely moving my lips, and at the same time I tried not to move.

- Because you are beautiful! – followed a completely expected and banal answer.

For almost an hour now I had been sitting motionless in a wicker chair and pretending to be an ancient Greek goddess. I don’t know how authentically I did it, but I liked my image. I was wearing a golden pareo tied on one side of the shoulder, wicker Greek sandals on my feet, and a wreath of fresh wildflowers on my head. My blond hair was loose, one part of the curls fell over my left shoulder, covering it. This whole simple image was created by my favorite artist, for whom I was currently posing. Who I was and who I was portraying, I didn’t really understand, either Aphrodite or Artemis. The image of the first did not really suit me based on my state of mind, and the image of the second lacked some details, such as a quiver of arrows and a pack of hounds.

-Where can I get you some hounds? – then Elan was indignant. – The arrows and quiver can still be found, but... Tanyusha, don’t bother! This is just an abstract image, this is how I see you, and you are beautiful!

Cinema, and nothing more!

And now I’ve been sitting in this image for over an hour, trying not to move. Periodically, I cast interested glances at him and saw in front of me his attentive, cold and at the same time such a bright, beautiful face, turned to the canvas. Before me was the face of a researcher and artist, slightly arrogant and strong-willed, with knowing eyes. Sometimes he, as if for a moment, raised his beautiful, piercing black eyes, like coals, to me, and then immediately took them a little to the side - to his easel.

I wonder how he perceives me now? As an object for your future work or just as a beautiful woman? I reassured myself with the thought that both options were correct.

At first, this process even amused me. Wow, it’s such a responsible thing to pose for a talented young artist and take part in the creation of a new masterpiece. True, after a while I began to like this idea less and less, and after an hour I began to feel like a complete idiot.

– Tanyusha, please don’t move! There’s just a little bit left," my artist asked almost tearfully, looking intently at his easel.

There’s a fly flying in your room, and it’s annoying me! And I started to itch under my right shoulder blade, I said capriciously and slightly pouted my lips.

Tatiana, don’t do that, it doesn’t suit you, I heard in response. - And there is no fly in the room.

- Eat! You just don't notice it.

– I’m just very passionate about my work and want to finish it quickly... Where’s the fly? – Elan seemed to wake up from a dream and looked carefully at his room.

- I was joking. Come on, draw," I sighed languidly and tried to relax the muscles of my face.

That’s why you’re distracting me, I want to finish it quickly and not torment you. Should you scratch your right shoulder blade?

- No need, draw faster, don’t get distracted! I want to drink some cold sparkling wine already. It has been sitting in the refrigerator for a long time, waiting...

- Tanyusha, please...

- Okay, okay... I’m silent and don’t move.

...We met Elan a week ago. It was an unexpected and spontaneous acquaintance. I then decided to go to the beauty salon of my good friend Svetka, the hairdresser. We have been friends with Sveta for many years, I constantly use her services and, perhaps, I will never be able to betray her unsurpassed skill with anyone. Svetka knows me like crazy and always guesses exactly what I need. In addition, due to my profession, I often have to change my appearance, and Svetka helps me very well with this. And it should be noted that she is not only a professional women's hairdresser, but also an excellent makeup artist.

That day I did not plan a trip to Svetlana. This desire arose spontaneously in my head. I didn’t have a job at that moment, I was sitting in an open cafe and was frankly bored, casting glances at the gloomy sky and getting upset that I couldn’t sunbathe properly. Yes, this is the kind of nonsense that pops into my head when I’m sitting idle, and I can’t do anything about it.

After the second cup of delicious coffee, I realized that I wanted to visit an old friend.

- Svetik, are you working? – I asked into the phone.

- Tanyusha, hello! Yes, I'm working. Did you want to get a haircut or something?

– Or what... I don’t care. I thought if you had a day off, I would ask you to visit or take you out for a walk. But since you’re working... maybe there’s some time for me?

– Tanyush, I’m not busy today. So come around four o'clock.

- Thanks, friend. See you!

Walking into the foyer of a beauty salon located in the city center on the first floor of an ancient building, I immediately noticed some changes.

The entire right wall, where there used to be a coffee table and a small soft sofa, was decorated with an incredibly beautiful painting. A foaming mountain waterfall running down a cliff flowed into a small round lake, surrounded by tall grasses and a variety of bright, sometimes exotic, flowers. Closer to the viewer in the foreground, the flowers became larger and were drawn more clearly. Bees and butterflies were flying around, and not far from