"Hi, George," halted me inspector Dabsy on my way to the store. "I bet you are going to have a snack!" he laughed heartily.
"How doing, Mr. Dabsy. " I murmured moodily. " You hit exactly, I want some reinforcement."
" Well, what about having this stuff for free?" Dabsy squinted slyly.
" What do you mean, Mr. Dabsy?"
" You help me, I provide you with a basket full of food."
I scratched my head, swallowed saliva, wiped my brow and rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants.
Dabsy was obviously relishing the sight of me being hooked. His sweet smile revealed absolutely even row of teeth which glistened under the mild sun beams.
But I was not so plump to be conned so easy.
" I think," I pursued, " it seems quite unfeasible that I can be of use to the police in any way. Nobody would believe in this."
"Why not?" Dabsy slapped me on the shoulder.
" Okay, what can I do for you?" I imparted strict direction to our conversation. "I've heard that you're writing stories, is that correct?" Dabsy asked in a low tone, and looked around as if the writing was a crime which he was inclined to forgive but on the condition of deep secrecy.
I nodded and cast askance glance to the right and to the left, as if to make sure that there was no spy watching us.
"We happened to catch a criminal whom we had been looking for a very long time." Dabsy caressed his blooming of bright hair and his finger touched the tip of his nose and his chin.
"The guy who you'll come to know is ..." Dabsy went on, but I screamed in awe, "I will come to know? Did I read this right?"
"Yeah," Dabsy seized my elbow trying to prevent my escape. "He is a tires-killer."
"He is what?" I exclaimed in astonishment.
"He is in the habit or rather he likes to puncture tires using an awl," Dabsy said.
" Really? He has some trouble driving his car, I guess?" I grinned.
" By no means," Dabsy sighed. "Mostly he is prone to puncture tires of his neighbor's cars."
I guffawed like a crazy. "Peculiar case. But what I have to do with all this?"
" As it turns out we have no witnesses, no evidences, no clues, but we are sure that he is guilty. He is a member of the "Society for the Protection of the Environment from the Exhaust Gases and Noise."
"Does their statute say that a member of the society should pierce the tires?" I asked.
"No, but the statute has a clause which states that "every member of the society is obliged to fight with cars by dint of all means available to him. "
"It sounds like a terrorist's catechism." I said.
" Not quite so, " Dabs wrinkled his brow. "They are not allowed to use violence to people. And in fact they never used violence to anybody."
"Might it be a coincidence?" I persisted.
" No way," Dabsy persevered. " Mr. Fool's dog didn't bark during the night of the crime. Generally, it does if the stranger is near the house, especially in the dead of night. Jack Kill-tires is very closely familiar to the dog. He had been feeding it for three days before committing the crime. Those who saw this esteemed him as a very kind and compassionate person. Nobody could suppose that it was just a preparatory work for the crime. "
" Okay, say, he is guilty," I sighed totally exhausted. "What I can't still make out is what the hell I have to do with this case?"
" I know that you've written a novel,"Dabsy said" A big one. Is that so?"
"Yep," I imitated the solemnity of Dabsy's tone. "Incomprehensibly huge novel, much more than Thackeray's "War and Piece."
" Oh, that's cool," Dabsy nodded with approving smile. "I'm a great fan of big novels. I've even read "The Crime and Punishment" by Nabokov."
"Oh, you are well versed in the literature!" I smiled.
" And you're a connoisseur of literature as well!" Dabsy smiled back. " So, we, that is, Mr. Kill-tires and your honest servant, we have a very irresistable desire to hear you reciting your novel," Dabsy pursued.
"What do you mean?" I asked in astonishment.
" You go to the Central Police Department tomorrow morning with your novel. You read, we hear, that's all you'll have to do. And your assiduous reading won't go overlooked. I'm going to make a promotion to your novel, besides, a big basket full of food is waiting for you in the end. So, what would you say."
" Deal!" I exclaimed entirely fascinated.
Dabsy got in the police car and drove away.
I must confess that usually my face looks like one as of an idiot. But I think that moment it looked especially stupid because my enormous complacency and pride mounted up to heaven.
For greater effect, I printed out my novel on the printer, which took the quantity of paint, which we usually have enough for a year. The manuscript was very thick, thick like big kahuna burger.
So the next morning I arrived at the police department. It was a two-story building made ;;of gray brick, with a flag on the facade and a hefty cop at the entrance.
He looked suspiciously at me, and his hand reached for the holster that hung from his belt. However, the inspector Dabsy appeared in appropriate time and led me into his office. The room was twenty square meters in width with a high ceiling and two barred windows.
In front of a huge table on a chair sat a young man clad in a white tracksuit. His round head was embellished with a pair of blue bulging eyes.
Dabsy chained him to the chair by dint of handcuffs and answered his goggle "The novel, which you are going to hear with great attention often causes inadequate reactions from the audience. For the purposes of our mutial security it would be better for you to stay handcuffed."
"I don't want to hear any novels!" exclaimed the suspect." I want a lawyer! I won't say a single word without a lawyer! "
"Dear," gently admonished him Dabsy, "you don't need to say anything. You just need to listen!" Dabsy seated me on a chair, made himself comfortable at the table, put on the headphones and motioned me to start.
" This novel is about the adventures of a fly, which took place in my house, " I said and began the recital "It was nice July day when I first saw this wonderful creature, the fly. At first sight she seemed black, very deep black without any tints of other colours. She was circling over my bed where I lay with a can of cola in my hand. It was very hot. I was thinking, drinking and sweating. The fly narrowed her circles descending gradually with obvious intention to land on my bed.
Should I prevent her intrusion? I thought I must have done it. But at such hot weather only a stupid would have done redundant movements.
And for my laziness I was rewarded by seeing her beautiful belly, which turned out to be not black but gold with a bright blue tint, or vice versa, bright blue with a golden hue.
My rifle hung in the living room on the first floor, and I decided that I would be watching the fly and I will write a novel about it. "Maybe later I'll kill it somehow without the rifle." I thought..."
" Is some action going to take place in this sh... so called novel?" the suspect interrupted my reading.
"Don't rush," I answered. "You have no notion of modern literature, and you're trying to critique. Listen to my masterpiece and enjoy!"
Having thus admonished my only listener, I continued in monotonous rhythm reading my novel:
" When I hacked the can of cola some quantity of this liquid was spilled on the floor resulting wet stain on the aforementioned floor on which the wonderful fly finally landed. The fly devoured the cola for a five minutes and having satisfied the thirst swooped up to ceiling."
While I was reading, Mr. Tireskiller several times attempted to shut his ears and every his endeavour entirely failed because of skillfull handcuffs setting, chained his hands to the leg and to the chair. And I proceeded with stubborness of a machine reading my amazing story.
Two, three, four hours passed, Dabsy without putting off his earphones drank some tea, then coffee. I felt slightly vexed that Dabsy didn't wish to listen to my novel and therefore I wanted to get some compensation through the suspect. He was destined to listen to all my novel from cover to cover without breaks, sleeping, eating and drinking.
When the fifth hour began account of its minutes Mr. Tireskiller tried to entreat me to give him some some water. I refused him and pursued my reading.
"There was a spoon on the table with crump of custard tart and spots of strawberry jam on it, whereto the blessed fly directed her course..."
Two more hours passed and my riveting saga was again interrupted by Mr. Tierskiller, who hissed in despair "I pray you, give me some water."
" Not until I have finished reading the novel," I answered in methodical tone.
"I'm getting sick of your endless frigging novel," the suspect exclaimed. "It's not a novel, it's like the stupid scribbling of a madman."
" Shut up!" I cut off. "Hold your tongue and listen!"
Several hours later Mr. Tireskiller fainted.
Inasmuch Dabsy was snoring with his earphones still on his ears, I had to care about Mr. Tireskiller, and I gave him a drop of water and was waving a handkerchief in front of his awfully pale face for a minute or so until he regained his consciousness.
" Let me go to my cellblock," Mr. Tireskiller sobbed. "I want the latrine, I want to sleep, I feel bad."
"Don't worry, Mr. Tireskiller, you're gonna have all this after we finish fifty three chapters which we will have happiness to enjoy with."
" You're breaking the law!" cried Mr. Tireskill.
" The law you are refering to is designed for the police officers, but I am, as you can see, just an absolute plain clothed layman. Therefore, I'm going to proceed with the reading of my resplendent novel!"
And so I did.
No sooner I got through the thirty six chapter, than Mr. Tireskiller screamed "Help! Is anybody hearing me? Help! I can't stand it any longer!"
His red eyes were bulging with tremendous danger to burst; his swollen face was wet from tears and sweat; his white lips quivered, and narrow streak of white foam appeared from the corner of his mouth. He was panting and his legs were jerking in convulsions.
" Wake up the police officer!" He shouted on the verge of his remaining energy. "Wake him up immediately, or he never becomes aware of who punctured tires of my neighbor's car!"
I stood up and slapped inspector Dabsy on the shoulder. He lifted his head, winking sleepily and yawned. Staring at the suspect Dabsy put off his earphones.
" I want to confess, sir!" cried Mr. Tireskill. " I'm gonna tell you everything! It's me who punctured those frigging tires of my neighbor's car! It's my fault! I'm guilty, sir! And I'm ready to confirm all this in front of the court.
Only one condition, sir, save me from this crazy guy with his horrible tormenting novel!"
Dabsy looked at me, smiled and said "That's enough, George! You may go. And be waiting for me in the evening at home."
Dabsy didn't let me down. In the evening he brought me a huge basket full of food. Not the most expensive but not the cheapest, I could tell.
"Thanks, George, for helping me!" Dabsy said with sparkling eyes. "Your novel knocked him down entirely. If I have some problem in future I will ask you to repeat your recital, okay?"
" I'm always ready!" I exclaimed hugging the basket. " Would you like to listen to the last chapter of the novel. It's wonderful!"
Without pronouncing a single word Dabsy recoiled, bounced out of the house, got into his car and drove off.