Moscow stood in traffic jam. It was Monday morning. Everyone hurried to work. It seemed that Bolshaya Nikitskaya Street never would finish, and flow of humming machines would never stop. In salon near me my accountant was sitting and staring at her smart phone.
– Marina Vladimirovna, what we have on deductions for meat suppliers? -I asked distracting her from the most interesting hobby.
– I transfer in time, Alexander Gavrilovich. As you asked, -she answered.
– Yes, be so kind, do not delay the payment. They have so good meat, – I said.
Suddenly I had the chance to turn to one of the lanes and drive to the embankment. I only had to drive under the sign “No thoroughfare”. At my fear and peril I did so in hope, that patrol service workers would not catch me. Yet I was not lucky. I came straight on valiant officers in bright —yellow vests.
Patrol car stopped near and the representative of traffic minions came out swinging traffic baton.
I opened the window of my car and the flow of snowflakes broke into salon, softly sticking all over my face.
– Good morning! Inspector of patrol service senior lieutenant Ovsienko. Your documents, please, – saluted an officer.
I gave my documents.
– Well, well, Alexander Gavrilovich Morgan, somebody is violating the rules? You have an interesting and unusual surname. Foreign one, isn’t it?
– No, indigenous Russian surname. From word «Morgun». The one, who wrote surname in far twenties, probably mixed up letters. It happens.
– Well, you —I did not manage to continue as senior lieutenant looked at me and said:
– Painfully familiar surname, Mr. Morgan. I have heard it before.
– May be… I again did not manage to finish as my companion excitedly said
– That’s it! I remembered. Good morning, Colonel. Sorry I did not recognize you at once. You’ve turned probably because of operational need, did you?
– No, wait. I am ready to pay the fine.
– Common, common, you may go.
– Thank you, chief.
– You are welcome. I have heard much of you. Have the honor!
Having thanked the officer, I closed the window and went on. My accountant was sitting with her mouth opened in amazement.
I looked at her, laughed and told:
– Why you look at me as something has happened?
– Is it true, that he’d said now? Are you a colonel? But you are a restaurant keeper? – she said surprisingly.
– Yes, I am a retired colonel. Ex-investigator of General Prosecutor Office. I did not advertise much. Many people still remember me. Example with inspector of RPS.
– Why did you decide to retire and engage in restaurant business?
– I would not had retired. But, these restaurants is the pet project of my elder brother that he had pieced together. So I couldn’t ignore his last will. That is why I had to leave my service on family circumstances.
– I see, is it difficult to be an investigator and solve crimes?
– Well, not easy and no mistake! By the way, my very first case occurred exactly at these places. To be more exactly, on Tverskaya street.
– Indeed? How exciting! Could you tell me, we have yet almost half an hour to drive.
– How quick time passes… You even cannot imagine. All events were kept in the depths of my mind. It seems here and now it is time to recall all happened almost twenty years ago.
