“Did you fall in love at first sight?”

“I may be attracted to a beautiful appearance, but I am fascinated by actions.”

(from Rina's interview for ‘Triumph’ program)

In the envelope, which Rina opened at home, there were no instructions, only printouts, and the person with whom she agreed to call didn’t answer.

Rina rested her cheek on her palm, looked at the sheets spread out on the kitchen table and exhaled noisily. A story that happened a little more than twenty years ago in a military town interested her and partly reminded her of what happened on the island. Rina involuntarily shivered from the memories: since then, she has remained distrustful of people in military uniform. As well as to famous businessmen, but for a different reason…

She turned her gaze to the paragraph circled in red marker, which spoke of a recruit who had escaped from the unit shortly before the tragic events. There was an exclamation mark in the margin next to the paragraph, apparently so that she wouldn't miss this part of the story for sure. Rina reread this paragraph three times, but did not understand what was wanted from her.

Among other things, the printouts turned out to be a schematic map of some locality. Rina wasn’t strong in topography, she didn’t like geography, and active games in which she had to search for something by compass didn’t fascinate her. She dialed the number of the person who told her to take the envelope again, counted to the tenth ring and disconnected the call. Nothing is clear!

The day was slowly twitching with twilight. The sun, having outlined the yoke during the day, went behind the house and plunged into the dark green of the forest. A little more, and the evening will smoothly turn into night. Here the darkness did not descend suddenly, as in the south, but extinguished the daylight gradually, as if in a movie theater, lengthened the shadows, muffled the sounds to rustles. Rina liked this time, and she got into the habit of going out into the yard with a cup of tea and watching the meadow spread out in front of the house turn gray at dusk, how the outlines of a half-dried tree are shaded and how the red-hot sky darkens like a cooling coal.

At such moments, peace came to her soul, her heart was comforted by vague hope, and a smile appeared on her lips by itself. Rina looked into the distance, as if she was looking into the past - into the happy moments of her life. Without sadness, she remembered the smile of the elderly Nuliya, she thought about Violet, Dog and their restless daughters. She imagined that at this very hour another couple of friends, Elvira and Valery, were bathing their little son before going to bed. And it felt so good in my soul, as if at that very moment Rina wasn’t in memories, but in reality, going around the homes of loved ones.

She poured herself a cup of tea and went out into the yard, but almost dropped the cup from fright and surprise when she saw a man in the yard. The stranger was sitting right on the ground, with his back against the fence and his head thrown back. Rina put the cup on the porch, cautiously descended the steps and bent over the man.

“Are you... unwell?” she asked softly and lightly touched the stranger's hand, but immediately recoiled in fright.

The stranger didn’t move, although his eyes were open, and the sky was beginning to darken in them.

“Is there something wrong with you? God…” Rina muttered, pulled the man by the jacket hem, and then lightly patted his cheek.

The stranger continued to contemplate the sunset with an unseeing gaze. Panic squeezed Rina's throat with steel fingers, tears welled up in her eyes from the realization that this elderly man, who had come to her for some reason, was dead. Hopelessly dead! Shake him, don't shake him, don't shout, but he won't move, won't get up, won't leave, and will just sit with his legs stretched out in trousers and expensive shoes and slightly toppled sideways.

Maybe he had a heart attack and was walking to her house for help? Maybe he called, but Rina, keen on solving ‘puzzles’, didn’t hear. Or before he could say anything, he sank to the ground and died. And now this one has been added to her problems - the corpse of an unknown man in the yard. Much worse! Now she will have to call either an ambulance or the police, give evidence and ‘shine’ in full.

Rina was so confused that when the phone that had fallen out of the man's pocket rang, she automatically picked it up and answered.

“Gennadiy Sergeevich?” a man's voice sounded on the phone. “Are you still there?”

“He…” Rina managed, belatedly realizing that she was making a monstrous mistake. She shouldn't have picked up the phone!

“Who are you?” the man was surprised. “I'm calling Gennadiy Sergeevich… Apparently, I got the wrong number.”

“You weren't mistaken,” Rina objected for some reason, although she could have used an excuse to turn off the phone. It's too late.

“Then please pass the phone to Gennadiy Sergeevich,” the man asked, losing patience.

“I can't,” Rina sighed. “He's dead.”

“What?! Who are you? Where are you?!”

“I'm at home. And your… Gennadiy Sergeevich? He's sitting in my yard, dead.”

“Wait! Wait a minute! How... dead? What is he doing at your place? What happened at all?!”

“I don't know,” Rina answered all the questions at once.

Her strength drained away like air from a punctured balloon, and she suddenly didn't care what would happen to her now.

“Gennadiy Sergeevich reset the geolocation and sent me a photo of the tree. I am nearby, five minutes away from this place. I can already see the tree.”

The man's words - ‘geolocation’, ‘tree’ and ‘I'm nearby’ - made it even scarier. Who is this deceased, why did he come to her and, most importantly, to whom and why did he send the coordinates of her house?!

“I'll be right there!” said the man. And before Rina could object, the phone in her hand was discharged.

For several long seconds she stood in a daze, looking at the body, and then caught herself and rushed into the house. Someone's coming now. On the one hand, this someone is likely to take the trouble, since the deceased is his acquaintance. With another… On the other hand, he will question Rina, ask uncomfortable questions and... peer into her face, listen to her voice and, perhaps, guess where and under what circumstances he saw her. Or maybe he won't guess, because he'll know right away.

Rina rushed around the house, not knowing what to do. She called the person she was in touch with, but he was unavailable. She threw the phone away and opened the closet with the idea of grabbing some things and running, but she saw a car crossing the meadow through the window. To escape in front of this unknown person is to attract suspicion. Besides, they'll catch up with her anyway. Therefore, Rina dismissed the idea of escape, hastily pulled open the hangers and looked around the shelves in search of a suitable disguise.

Going to the market or to the store, she would braid her hair, tie a scarf or put on a hood, and hide half of her face behind sunglasses. In this form, even fans would not recognize her as a popular singer. But walking around the house with glasses and a hood only inflames curiosity and suspicion. Rina took another look out the window and saw that the unknown was already parking in front of her yard. Inspired by the idea, she rushed into the bathroom, hurriedly changed her hiking pants for pajama bottoms, tied a bath towel over her head and, grabbing a jar with a black mask from the shelf, generously ‘screwed up’ her face.

An unknown man, whom she was furtively watching through the window, was expected to linger: first he crouched over the body, examined it, and then took out his phone and called someone. Rina took a deep breath, realizing that she was caught like a butterfly in a net. Now people will come here - the police, doctors or whoever the stranger called there. And from her barely begun new life, only fragments will remain again. Rina took another deep breath to calm down, and went to open the door in response to a demanding knock.

If the man was surprised by her ‘image’, he didn’t show it. He nodded briefly in greeting and entered the house without asking.

“I called the police,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets and looking down at Rina. “Gennadiy Sergeevich can't be helped with anything else.”

The stranger turned away, revealing a clear profile and a beautifully outlined, like an actor's, square jaw. Rina nodded – to the profile and at the same time to the man's words. And then, catching herself, she squeezed out:

“I'm sorry.”

“What happened here?” the ‘guest’ asked, turning back to her and boring her with a not at all friendly look, as if he was already sure of Rina's involvement in the death of his acquaintance.

“I don't know,” she answered honestly. “I went outside with a cup of tea and saw this man. I ran up to help, and then you called.”

The man nodded and turned away again, thinking about something else. Rina stood awkwardly in front of him, realizing that he, in fact, now doesn’t care who is in front of him – the Queen of England, Madonna or an unknown girl with a towel on her head and a black cosmetic mask on her face. He is confused, upset and doesn't care about her ‘masquerade’. It would be possible to relax if... if not for the corpse in the yard, which was still staring unseeingly at the sky.

“Come on,” Rina invited, taking pity on the ‘guest’.

It was a little weird to keep hovering in front of him, looking into his face and holding the towel turban. The man was tall, while Rina, on the contrary, did not reach his shoulder, and because of such a difference in height, she felt out of place. As if she was the uninvited guest in his house, and not him.

The man followed her into the kitchen, sat down on the offered chair and thoughtfully drummed his fingers on the countertop. But as soon as Rina, slightly relaxed, was about to offer him tea, he cut off all her kind impulses with a sharp look and asked directly:

“What did  Gennadiy Sergeevich do in your yard?”

The question sounded with such intonations, as if Rina was already an accused, and the man was an investigator.

“How do I know?” she shrugged her shoulders, trying to remain unperturbed, and still put the kettle on - not for the ‘guest’, for herself.

Habitual actions calmed down a little and made it possible not to lose control of the situation.

“Why did Gennadiy Sergeevich direct me to your house?”

“Do I know? It's me who needs to ask why you both came here!”

Rina snorted loudly - an old habit, which she seemed to have already managed to get rid of, and jerked her shoulder.

“Now the police will come, they will ask you questions…”

“So let the police ask.”

Rina slammed two cups on the table and, without asking, poured tea leaves into them. Then she came to her senses that this was not a friendly Stas, or even his pig, and went to the window.

 “I just want to understand…” the man slowed down.

“I've already said everything,” Rina snapped. “I haven't heard anything and I don't know what happened to your friend. I was in the bathroom.”

She touched the towel with a hint, but the guest scanned her with his eyes, and she felt uncomfortable again. He didn't seem to believe her. Rina didn't trust him either, even though she let him into the house.

“Will you have tea?” she asked after a long pause, during which it seemed that she could hear a spider spinning a web in the corner.

“You have already poured the tea leaves. I will.”

Rina poured boiling water into cups, took out a pack of cookies and pushed them to the man. He shook his head, refusing the treat, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Yes, Vika,” he said wearily.

Furtively watching him, Rina was surprised by the sudden change that happened in just a couple of moments. Here the man was still scanning her with a sharp gaze, tightly pursing his lips and squinting his green-brown eyes, and here he was talking on the phone, suddenly stooped and, having lost his bearing, exposed fatigue and therefore seemed vulnerable.

‘The wolf. Only wounded,’ Rina thought and hurriedly turned away, as if she had spied something personal.

“Yes, something happened. I'll tell you later. I'm not coming back today. And I won't be here tomorrow. I'll call you. How are you? Well done! Till tomorrow.”

The ‘guest’ put the phone in his pocket, pulled a cup of tea towards him and dropped it in the same tone from which fatigue disappeared:

“Can you wash off this wax? The police will be here soon.

“And what?” Rina bristled.

“Nothing,” the man shrugged. “There is a lifeless body in your yard, and you yourself are like a Moor. It's better not to risk it. What if there are Shakespeare lovers among the police?”

“I doubt it!” Rina snorted, but got up and stalked into the bathroom.

There she splashed water on her face for a long time, washing off the dried mask. And then, wiping her face with a towel, she adjusted the ‘turban’ and took another tube from the shelf. This mask was blue in color, which darkened to blue when dried. With a white towel on her head and a blue face, Rina already looked like a Smurf.

“Are you kidding me?!” the ‘guest’ exclaimed when Rina sat down opposite with an imperturbable look. “What kind of ‘mask show’ are you doing?”

“After cleansing, the skin needs hydration,” Rina said in a bored tone.

“You're still kidding me,” the man muttered without a questioning intonation, drilling her with his gaze.

“And yours… Isn't Vika taking care of herself?” Rina asked sarcastically.

The ‘guest’ made a sound as if he choked and coughed. So, coughing and wiping tears from his eyes, he went to open the door of the police who arrived.

The night in which Rina was going to rest turned out to be sleepless, fussy and tense. A fat policeman, suffering from shortness of breath, settled down in the kitchen and asked questions to Rina, then to her ‘acquaintance’, who introduced himself as Nikolai, and scrupulously wrote something down in a greasy notebook. Rina was also asked for documents, and she brought a fake passport with a false name. The policeman compared the passport photo with Rina in a mask and towel, chuckled, but did not ask her to wash - to Nikolai's obvious disappointment. However, he no longer cared about the hostess of the house. After answering the questions, he went out into the yard to the partner of the fat policeman and stayed there until the body was taken away.

It all ended when the night turned into the darkest and calmest phase before dawn. All the uninvited guests left, and Rina was finally left alone. Feeling incredibly tired, coupled with emptiness, she stumbled to the bathroom, pulled off her mask-stained T-shirt, quickly rinsed under the shower and changed into pajamas. She wanted to cry from fatigue and the stress she had experienced, but she didn't even have the strength to cry. She would like to reach the bed, touch the pillow with her cheek and fall asleep. But the hopes for a healthy sleep were again broken by a demanding knock on the door. Rina shuddered, quieted down, hoping that the night ‘guest’ would leave. But the knock was repeated, and she, with a resigned sigh, went to open it.

To her great relief and surprise at the same time, Stas stood on the threshold with the invariable Blob.

“Heh!” the old man greeted, pitifully wrinkled his nose and squeezed out: “Poof! No!”

Judging by the fact that he waved his hand in the direction of the fence, near which the body was found, Stas had in mind exactly what had happened. Rina was no longer surprised by the old man's ability to know something.

“Yes, Stas, a man died here. We didn't know each other, but for some reason he came to me and died,” she sighed and stood aside, letting the old man with the piglet into the house.

The hope of sleeping through the night finally crumbled. But don't drive Stas out into the dark! Why he came to her and what he was doing at such an hour on the street, it was useless to ask - the old man with his limited set of words is unlikely to answer. But when she once again put the kettle on overnight, it suddenly dawned on her. Rina found a pencil in one of the kitchen drawers, pulled out a couple of sheets with maps printed on them from the envelope and pushed them to the old man.

“Stas, I'm going to pour you some tea. Delicious! And I'll give you cookies…”

“Heh!” the old man approved and smiled a crooked smile.

“But you drink tea and listen to me carefully. Listen and draw. Do you understand me? Please Stas, get it!”

Rina tapped her finger on the blank side of the sheet with a pencil and looked into the old man's eyes again. The fact that his gaze seemed meaningful to her was reassuring. Maybe they will have a dialogue!

Rina poured tea for the old man, took out cookies, as promised, and froze at the windowsill, trying to cope with her excitement. She doesn't have much time. Then Stas will withdraw into himself again.

“Stas, what did the man who died want from me?” she asked.

The old man jerked his head slightly, but did not stop chewing cookies. Rina waited patiently, but Stas leisurely drank tea and ate his cookies, Blob got under his feet and broke the viscous night silence of the house with a loud grunt.

“Okay, the question is complicated,” Rina realized, but the old man suddenly put down his cup, took a pencil and scribbled something hurriedly.

Rina looked into the drawing and saw the phone. An old phone with a handset and a disk, not a modern smartphone.

“Did he want to call?” she suggested. “His phone was running low and he was walking to my house to make a call?”

“Heh!”

“Okay…” Rina ran her fingers through her disheveled hair and thought. “How did he die? What happened?”

This time Stas didn’t hesitate for a long time, but quickly drew a pharmacy bottle and depicted the heart with anatomical accuracy.

“Wow!” Rina admired. “Did he have a seizure? And did he forget the medicine, or did it run out?”

The old man's ‘answer’ fit into her version of what had happened. Rina perked up, but the next question was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Stas, it looks like it's for you.”

She hurriedly ran out into the hallway, opened the door, confident that Stas' relatives had come. But, to her horror, she saw Nikolai again.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled a little - with a slight sneer, as if saying ‘well, finally washed up’. And then he asked permission to enter.

“You've already come in,” Rina said and muttered softly to his back, “And why can't you sleep?”

Nikolai, if he heard, didn’t react in any way, but immediately went into the light - into the kitchen. But when he saw an old man drawing on a piece of paper and Blob walking around the kitchen, he was taken aback.

“Don't ask,” Rina forestalled his questions and sighed. “I just wanted to rest at night.”

“I won't be long,” Nikolai said quickly and squinted at the piglet, who was already poking his snout into his sneakers with a quiet grunt.

Stas was so keen on drawing that he didn’t pay attention to the guest at all.

“Is your "for a while" so urgent that it couldn't wait until morning?” Rina replied grumpily.

“What if in the morning…” Nikolai began, but he was interrupted by another knock on the door.

A loud female voice came from the street:

“Vita? It's Galina! Stas' sister!”

“Vita?” Nikolai was surprised, and Rina mentally cursed, remembering that she introduced herself to the police as Lena, as in a fake passport.

She has names now - like a fool of candy wrappers.

She didn't answer anything, went out into the hallway and opened the door. An elderly woman stood on the porch, shivering wrapped in a long knitted sweater, and Liza loomed nearby, slouching.

“Vitochka, I'm sorry for the trouble. Don't you have Stas? We're worried about him! He jumped up, cursed, suddenly out of bed and ran away. They went around the whole neighborhood, they called, they called, and he seemed to have fallen through the ground!”

“I have!” Rina smiled.

“What a habit!” Galina got angry at Stas. “You forgive him, he's harmless. But if it bothers you, then tell me. I'll scold him.”

“Don't scold!” stood up for the old man Rina. “I didn't sleep anyway. I'll call him now…”

But she didn't have to call Stas, he himself came out of the kitchen, dragging Blob on a leash and hooting guiltily.

“You'd be ashamed of yourself, you fool!” Galina pounced on him. “And what carried you into the night? And you alarmed Liza and me, and you don't let Vita sleep!”

The old man hooted quite often, hung his head and was the first to leave the house. Galina apologized again, and Rina once again assured her that Stas didn’t bother her, thanked her for the goodies and invited her to visit in the afternoon. The question of what to do with the old man was solved. But there was one more ‘guest’. Rina smoothed her disheveled hair, for some reason nervous, and with the intention of escorting Nikolai out of the house, returned to the kitchen.

He was standing by the table and carefully studying one of the sheets pulled out of the envelope. But it wasn't Stas’ drawing that interested him, but what was printed on the back. Rina froze in the doorway. She would have been worried that Nikolai got into her personal affairs, but unexpectedly for herself she admired him - a statuesque brunette. If it weren't for such strange circumstances and if there was still a place for sympathies in her life, Rina would have decided that her nocturnal ‘guest’ wasn’t just attractive, but dangerously handsome. But she is no longer Rina who got carried away, fell in love and generously shared her love with listeners through songs. She became the plowman bird from a Korean ballad again, who, once in a cage, felt free only when she sang. Only now she was also deprived of the opportunity to sing.

“Interesting,” Nikolai muttered and reached for another sheet. But when he heard that  Rina entered the kitchen, he looked up at her and sharply asked: “Where did you get this, Lena?”

She wanted to reply just as sharply that it was none of his business. That he had entered someone else's house and poked his nose into other people's affairs, but for some reason, under his gaze, in which a sly sparkle suddenly flashed, she remained silent.

“Or should I address you by another name, Vita?”

“My name is Lena,” she said.

“Really?” Nikolai grinned, put the sheets on the table and, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, turned to her. “Really, Rina?”