quite suitable, and Galina did not oppose.

Kum lived on the same street through two houses. From godfather Kolka first went home, but changed his mind and went to the test.

Kolka went into a spree.

Spending Kolka to the gate, Aunt Nadia asked again: “Can grandfather see you?”. Pushing his back from the fence, Kolka grinned and walked along the street, hardly swaying.

The children have been sleeping for a long time, but the husband has not returned. An hour ago, having laid children, Pebble ran to the godfathers, but Kolka was no longer there. Sometimes it happened. Having gone on a spree, Kolka could stay overnight with relatives or friends; and Pebble, sitting at the kitchen window for another hour and a half, went to sleep.

Ivan Zelepukin, precinct of the May village council, on a Sunday morning, chalked the yard, collecting the last leaves that had fallen. The gate slammed: "Uncle Wan, Kolka disappeared ...".

“Well, it’s just that it disappeared right away. We can go on a spree where friends are ... ", - Ivan stopped himself, looking into the eyes of a young woman, full of fear and longing; inside he stirred a bad foreboding. Throwing a broom, he went into the house. Galina dejectedly followed.

I sat her down at the table and took a notebook, asked me in detail, wrote it down and said: “You, Galina, go home. Strongly do not kill yourself, your Kolka will not go anywhere, we will find. ” He tried to talk confidently and carelessly, but the trembling was growing inside.

Having passed through all the addresses indicated by the woman, he did not get a new one. Only in the evening someone remembered that they seemed to have seen Kolka, who was drunk on Zarechnaya Street, near Lichmanyat, late on Friday, pretty drunk. His heart sank, hair moving on his head. Mishka Lichman, a criminal and recidivist, who spent most of his adult life on prison bunkers, got out of prison a year ago, having served ten years for murder.

Returning home, put on his belt, pulled out of the cupboard TT. From a steel box with a lock, he took out the cartridges, loaded the clip and, after sending the cartridge into the chamber and putting the fuse in, holstered the pistol. The hand, obeying the habit that had been developed over the years of service, buttoned up the holster, but hesitated, Ivan undid it.

Standing at the fence and glancing cautiously at the frenzied one, at the wolfdog's chains, Ivan waited for one of the owners to come out to the barking dog. The hay door creaked, the entrance hook rang, and a short, shabby little man came out onto the porch: “Who has managed to sleep there at night, looking,” he said displeased, peering at the man standing by the fence.

"Hello Michael."

“Ahhh, great citizen boss. Yes shit, you! ”, He shouted at the dog, came down from the porch and, grabbing the leash and holding the dog, shook his head:“ Go into the house. ”

Ivan sat at the kitchen table, the owner stood, propping up the door jamb with his shoulder.

"Where's the wife?".

“Guys stacked. He probably sleeps. ”

"And mother?" From the darkness of the hall, the old woman entered the kitchen and, leaning against the stove, stood still.

Mishka Lichman was over fifty. Wife, seven years younger than him. They had five children. The eldest was 23 years old, he lived in the city. The second son went to the fourth grade of the village eight-year-old. Three more were very small. How did the wife manage to get pregnant when Mishka shook the term, and were these his children?

"Do you know why I came to you?"

"No, boss."

“Kolka Chepik gone. From Friday already. Did you have it? ”

Misha grinned and, turning his head, showed a bruise on his right cheek: "Here, left a mark."

"Tell me."

According to Mishka, the following was apparent: Kolka really came to them. He was already pretty drunk. We sat in the kitchen, drinking moonshine. Word for word, Kolka suddenly bristled and weighed the cuff to the owner. Not to escape the slaughter, but the old woman hung on Kolkina's hands and, lamenting, persuaded him to leave. Kolka is gone.

Ivan looked at the old woman; she, staring somewhere in one point, nodded, confirming what was said.

"Do you have weapons in the house?", - the policeman rose from the table.

"Are you kidding, boss ?!", - Lichmanenok twisted a smile.

"Where did he go from you?"

“Yes, I think I leaned home”, - Mishka waved his hand towards the dam.

“See me off” - and, nodding his head to the old woman, Ivan went out after the owner.

On Monday, having gone to the police department in the morning, and having reported to the authorities; Ivan gathered about twelve men and women, and, divided into several groups, they combed a birch undergrowth adjacent to Zarechnaya street and stretching along the field road to the Barnaul highway. To no avail; Kolka as the water has sunk. In the next two days, the district policeman went to the second farm and to Yarki, Kolkina’s friends and his numerous relatives lived there. No one knew where Kolka was.

Three weeks have passed. The first snow fell. In the village, little by little, the gossip about where Kolka had disappeared began to subside. All tended to one; Kolka is no longer alive.

In the evening, October 27, Ivan, sitting in the kitchen, was cleaning the TT. While admiring the blued, with a bluish tint, the steel of the barrel, I mentally thanked God that during 18 years of service I had never had to use a weapon. Some thought went through my head ... and slipped away. Ivan put down the gun, tried to concentrate and, nodded. Shaking and muttering; the morning of the evening is wiser, went to the bedroom.

Pyshnotelya Claudia, even more condoned with age, slept, spread out across the couch. Ivan carefully, trying not to wake, climbed over his wife and, wedging himself between her and the wall, instantly fell asleep, as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Claudia, having milked Dawn, was busy in the kitchen, trying not to tinkle with the dishes, but Ivan was already awake. Wall pegs showed seven. Outside the window, through the curtains, gray dawn. Ivan shook his head, as if shaking out the remnants of a nightmare that tormented him all night: a bear rolled out of the den with an uterine roar and, rearing up on its hind legs, walked on it. Feet rooted to the ground, bound with horror, Ivan tried to hide his hands. A shot rang out from somewhere behind his back, and the bear, settling down, began to roll over on its side. Looking back, Ivan saw Mishka Lichman with a rifle in his hands; smoke streamed from the trunks. I also remember two absurdities: the bear was in shoes, and the lair was almost to the top filled with potatoes.

After breakfast and taking a cigarette, went out into the yard. Fingers habitually crushed the mouthpiece, the right hand froze with a box of matches. The thought that eluded yesterday took shape. Recalling the interrogation with Lichman, Ivan with his mind’s eye traced the path of the old woman’s gaze and flinched.

Michael's mother came out on the dog barking. She drove the dog into the booth and closed the hole with her legs, silently waiting for the policeman to enter the house.

"Michael is at home?"

“At work,” the old woman looked waryly at Ivan.

"Who is home?"

"Only me".

Ivan went to the underground and opened the lid. It smelled of dust, damp and potatoes. Taking out a flashlight and clicking the switch, Ivan shone into the underground: “Is there Kolka?”, - the old woman nodded. He jumped into the manhole and, illuminating the flashlight, climbed into the depths of the subfield. The hand stumbled upon something hard; it was a boot. I scattered potatoes and saw Kolka in the flashlight light. The wound in the chest was terrible. Strange, but mice and rats did not touch the corpse. Having shone on the sides, I saw a sawn-off shotgun and, taking it, got out of the sub-floor.

Because of what a quarrel erupted, Bear did not remember. Clutching a knife, he was hit in the face and flew off with a stool in the middle of the kitchen. Kolka got up and, filled with rage, moved on him. Bear rushed into the room and almost immediately jumped out with a sawn-off shotgun. Harknuli shotgun trunks, and Kolka fell backwards, arms outstretched. Lichmanikha ran to the noise and, holding her mouth, looked with horror at Kolka, who was lifeless, and his white sweater, turning brown with blood.

Instantly sobering up, Mishka dropped the sawn-off shotgun and, going up to the table and, taking the cigarettes, went out onto the porch. He smoked only at the third attempt, so his hands shook. Deeply drawn out and feeling that he calms down, he looked around; there was no light in the houses of the neighbors; there was no one on the street. Dokuriv and standing still for a quarter of an hour, went into the house. Mother and wife stood like stunned.

“Bring water,” Mishka ordered his wife and, walking up to Kolka and grabbing her legs, pulled her in the middle of the kitchen to the basement. Throwing back the lid, he pushed the body and, after going down, pushed the potatoes deep into the subfield. Half an hour later, having thrown the corpse with potatoes, he got out and, picking up a sawn-off shotgun, threw it into the cellar.

Wife laundered the floor.

The terrible news instantly spread through the village.

Kolka was buried two days later.

Mishka Lichman received 12 years of striches. He did not return from prison anymore, and having perished there.

Eight years later, after Mishka was put in prison, his second son killed a drinking companion in a drunken brawl and, having received 10 years, followed in his father's footsteps.

20.02.2012