***
He called the landlord’s relative early in the morning and arranged to meet right away, just before the first work assignment. Alla, the relative, turned out to be a rather hot brunette, thirty-something. She seemed both bored and intrigued by the affair, vaguely interested in Vasya, vaguely angry at her relative for this last-minute errand, all at the same time.
First they checked on the neighbours. There was only one door next to Dima’s and the resident, an old lady, said she didn’t hear anything suspicious, ever, from Dima’s apartment. No, she hadn’t seen him lately either. Vasya thought that actually his joint visit with Alla was the most suspicious thing to happen lately on the floor. They probably looked like a classical petty crime duo: a vamp and a goon.
Alla unlocked the doors and they went in. There were no lights inside, Vasya turned the switch. It was a small one-room apartment, barely ever renovated and seemed like a time capsule from the 1980s. The living room served as the bedroom and everything else. There was also a small kitchen with crumbling formica furniture and a combined bathroom. Everything looked perfectly normal, a little messy, but not unusually so. Dima was basically an organized guy. “Seems like everything’s OK, no sign of break-in” said Alla. They went into the room; the bed was perfectly made up, and the desk was rather clean, with a thin veil of week’s dust. Vasya noticed a books he lent to Dima to read, “How to Build a Country House” and a couple of fantasy novels that Dima liked to read to kill time on his shift.
“Right, let’s see”, said Vasya and opened the closet. If Dima had to go somewhere he would probably pack some clothes, but it seemed all his usual staff and a big gym bag were still around. It didn’t seem that Dima suddenly went on a trip. “I will go check what’s missing”, said Vasya and went back to the entrance to look at the outer coats. Most of Dima’s camouflage and the security uniform were hanging by the door, but he could not see the leather jacket Dima liked to wear when off-duty. The tall paratrooper boots were also missing. “OK, at least I have something for the description”, thought Vasily.
“There’s food in the fridge”, Alla said from the kitchen, “and some dirty dishes in the sink”. “Yeah, I think he was planning to return the same day”, said Vasya joining her by the table, “all this stuff is a few days old”.
“I saw him last Tuesday night”, continued Vasily, “and then tried calling on Saturday. So, most likely he went out on Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday morning or afternoon and never came back. More likely on Wednesday afternoon, because he had a work shift that evening and he didn’t show up, I was told”. “So you were the last to see him”, said Alla. “I guess so”, said Vasya, “of all I know, I mean”. He said, “Wait I forgot something”, and went back to the room. Up on the bookshelf he found the cell phone box from Dima’s latest Nokia, there were still the user’s manual and some wires in it.
“Why do you want it?” asked Alla curiously.
“Cell phone ID number”, replied Vasya, “police might need it”.
“The SIM is in phone, it’s not working”, said Alla.
“No, every cell phone has its own unique number as well”, said Vasya, “it talks to the network even without a SIM, so if anyone turns Dima’s phone on, the network will know that”.
“Hm, I didn’t know that”, said Alla, “I keep losing my phones and just get new ones”.
“You can ask the network to block your old one”, said Vasya, “they won’t recover it for you, but at least the thieves won’t be able to use it”.
Vasya was thinking about the money. Could Alla be trusted? He decided she could be. “There’s something else”, he said. “Yeah, the money?” asked Alla. “Right”, said Vasya. “if it’s missing, that might give a clue, a motive”.
The search didn’t take too long. Forty two thousand roubles, mostly in newish five-hundred bills were held together by a rubber band in a coffee can in the overhead cupboard. They sat down in the kitchen, counting it. “So, it’s almost it”, said Vasya, “he was probably going to add a couple more thousand and wire the money to your guy”. “So it’s not because of the money that he disappeared?” stated Alla. “I don’t know”, said Vasya. Nothing made sense. But then again, these days, you could just go outside to dump garbage and beaten into pulp by a bunch of youngsters. Vasya hoped that didn’t happen to Dima though.
“What’s with the money?” asked Alla. “Let’s just leave it here”, answered Vasya, “I know it’s here, you know it’s here. If Dima shows up these days he will wire it to your guy. If Dima’s dead, there will be expenses; I will take care of them. You can confirm that”.
“No, I don’t need to confirm that”, said Alla. There was a brief silence. They were still seated in the tiny kitchen. Vasya didn’t know what to do next; police were not too cooperative he felt. Maybe he had to take the phone ID numbers to a friend at the cellular company, they could do a little looking up for him. That could produce something, or more likely nothing. “Hmm, interesting”, Alla said suddenly. “There’s a missing ad in this paper”, she pointed at the free classifieds that was delivered weekly to every mailbox in town. There was a small square cut out on the back page. Vasya grabbed the paper, - it was two weeks old. “I will look it up”, he said. They left shortly afterwards: he hopped on a bus to work and she called up a taxi to go on her own business.
Mom had already discarded that free ads paper at home, but luckily one of Vasya’s cable clients kept a copy. The ad missing in Dima’s paper said: “SPECIAL SECURITY. Physically fit, trained men needed. Great pay, great perks, business travel. Background checks will be required“. There was only a phone number, no address. “Can I have this paper, or just this page?” asked Vasya. “Yeah, sure, grab the whole thing”, said the happy customer, flipping through channels, “Good luck applying”, he added, “must be a better job than this”. “Oh thanks”, said Vasya.
The last assignment was well located, and he managed to drop by home for late lunch. That saved a buck, Mom’s food was way better and there was still some time to kill before school. “Vasya, whenareyougoingto…”, started Mom pouring the steaming hot bortsh. “Mom, not right now eh?” begged Vasya and reached for the phone. He dialled the Special Security number from the ad.
There were long beeps and no one was taking for some time. “Must be gone for the day”, decided Vasya, but then the phone clicked and man answered, “Yes. Security”. “Eh… Hi…” said Vasya, “are you guys still hiring?” “Not right now”, said the man, “got a tonne of resumes already, still shoveling through them, already got quite a few”. “Oh, I see, sorry then”, said Vasya. “Wait a sec”, said the man, “you’ve done the military?” “Nope”, honestly said Vasya, he was happy enough to have dodged draft thanks to Mom’s connections. “Drugs, alcohol?” inquired the man on the phone. “No, nothing, a teetotal”, replied Vasya, almost honestly, he had an occasional beer and didn’t smoke. “Sports? Activities?” the inquisition continued. “Not much”, said Vasya, “go to gym sometimes. I walk a lot though, electrical work”. “Great”, said the inquirer, satisfied, “we close at five, see if you can make it. A speed interview”. Vasya thought for a second and said “Yes”, at worst he would have to skip the lab class tonight and at best he could drop by the Special Security and then make it to school, albeit slightly late. “Alright, don’t be late then, we won’t be waiting”, said the man and gave the address, somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere.
“Are you skipping the class again?” asked Mom.
“Why “again?” Vasya protested, “I always attend”.
“I don’t like this Security thing”, said Mom, “it’s a dead-end job”.
“I am just curious”, said Vasya. He ate quickly and rushed for the bus. There were a couple more buses to switch.
Barbershop Otto Page 3