Atıf Karayıldırım

Molecular Structure Of Crime

Episode 2

“Good night, sir,” said the patrol. In his hand, he added the lantern he was holding to his eyes, lowering his biceps about halfway;

I hope you know you can’t be out at this time of night.”

In order to reduce the number of thefts and murders that increased in the city at that time, at least until this extraordinary period passed, it is assumed that the people were informed about this subject in line with the decisions taken by the city council.

Faced with the gaze and words of the patrol, he handed her a piece of paper he had taken out of the left inner pocket of his jacket. And yes, he still crossed his legs and remained uncomfortably confident, waiting for the patrol to read what was written on the paper. While the patrol handed the piece of paper he was reading back to himself;

“Your Excellency, if there is anything I can assist you with, or if you have a situation to order, I will be honored to serve you.”

“No, I wish you a good watch, officer,” he said, and gave a look that indicated he wanted to be alone.

And the officer went through his heart. As if he did not want to stay too long next to this already smug Highness, he put his hand on his hat and greeted him and said;

“Good night, Your Excellency,” he said, walking away slowly.

It was as if he had experienced this scene before. But, as always, his mind couldn’t keep up. “If I catch you,” he said, clenching his teeth, probably because he experienced this situation so often. 

Then he asked himself “Am I going crazy or not? The moments I live act like memories that want to escape from me. What does that mean now, is it a mistake in my sentence or in my thoughts? I think I am very tired, now I should go home and rest.”

He got up suddenly, the rain was about to stop. I was soaked and started coughing. He thought he shouldn’t get sick. The fact that he was pleasantly ill was profitable both for himself and for Doctor Yolazenkovic. He would rest, and the doctor would earn a few kopecks. He needed to talk to her anyway.

He was walking briskly across the riverside street, and felt a shadow behind him. He looked behind him as he felt the gun on his belt, but he couldn’t see anyone. “Yes, yes, I am very tired and dreaming now. Besides, who would want to mess with me at this time of night,” he thought.

Passing in front of Chef Musetonic’s restaurant, he noticed that the lights in his apartment above the workplace were on.

He slowed his steps. He was already about to come to the street where his rented flat, which he kept for three rubles a month, was located. A little while later, at the door of the apartment, he met the cheeky butler of Zaharenko, the old woman with a candle in one hand and a bag in the other.

This shrewd and dishonest man who needs to bow in front of her to say “Good night, Your Highness”

He raised an eyebrow at the servant and glared at him. The cheeky man, grinning, walked out the door of the apartment with the garbage in his hand.

“Why would Miss Zaharenko hire this dishonest man with you? It is an indisputable fact that there is no one in the city who does not know him with his fraudulent acts.”

His room was on the third floor of this four-story apartment building. Climbing the dark stairs, he remembered what he had always forgotten, counting the steps. “One day I will remember from the beginning and count,” he said. In fact, he didn’t need to count. All he had to do was subtract the three broken wooden steps from the total. Each stair block consisted of the same number of steps. Counting one was enough. But he was a detailer, he would have to count one by one.

There were three separate flats on the floor where it was located. Although it was not appropriate to call it an apartment, separate people or families lived in each of them. 

This building was a headquarters that was planned and built according to the needs of the army during the war. By the decision of the city council, this place was returned to the descendants of the landowners, as another building was built for the army. The land-building exchange was deemed appropriate as the usage fee. Of course, it was a profitable trade for them. The seven grandchildren were the original owners of the building they shared among themselves.

The interior and exterior walls of the building were neglected, damp and dirty gray. Its plaster was falling off because it had taken water from many parts of it. There were two toilets and a bathroom on each floor. The doors of the flats were wooden and neglected. Since the walls between the rooms are made of thin bricks and in some apartments the walls facing the building are separated by thick wooden blocks, everyone could hear each other easily with a little attention. What could anyone hide? It was as if the apartment was one big family. A family that would strangle each other at the first opportunity. The country was going through hard times, poverty and disease were everywhere.

At the end of the corridor he was in a room of about fifty square meters with flabby gray plaster and damp walls, he took out his key and, with difficulty in the dark, opened the door and entered. There were candles and matches on a small shelf at the neck of the wall on the right as you entered.

Two steps ahead of the candle shelf was a walnut wood table with one leg about to break, a tray full of books, papers, bullets, tobacco butts, and trivia. The desk was leaning against the wall at its corner, and the window that opened out ahead had a clear view of the street. In front of the window was a mattress with falling springs and a hard sponge mattress that could make it comfortable. His duvet, blanket and pillow had not been washed for a long time. But he always thought he didn’t have time to care about that.

There was another table to the left of the room. Here too, dirty and clean food containers, a bottle of water, an empty vodka bottle and bread… The door between the table and the bed led to the kitchen. Although I said kitchen, I know the reader will be disappointed, but that was the truth; A 1-square-meter cubicle with a hole-in-the-wall kitchen sink, a faulty faucet, and a few racks for utensils on the right wall.

A stove in the middle of the room, a few pieces of wood around it, a small bucket of coal and kindling… Although the floor was made of old and squeaky neglected boards, it could still be called clean. Thanks to the wife of that cheeky butler, the caretaker of old Zaharenko, who comes to clean every other day. Three kapik a week was enough. He also received a daily kopek for cooking.

Back to list

Related Posts

Leave a Reply