Back at his desk, he opened it. Inside the envelope were four shell casings, a piece of cloth, and a note, typed on a computer: “Missing evidence from one of your cases.”
– Hmm. – Alexey picked up the phone and dialed Lyuba’s number.
– Lyuba, where did this come from?
– Hell if I know, I came in, and it was just lying there on the desk… – the secretary replied.
– Ah… yeah… right… bye. – He turned the unusual bundle over in his hands and then placed it in the safe.
Hurriedly leaving the office, he tried to figure out who had brought the envelope. There were security cameras in the prosecutor's office, but he still couldn't find out anything. Alexei grabbed a folder from the desk and headed to the morgue to get the autopsy results.
"Well, what can I tell you," forensic expert Semyonych greeted him grandly, adjusting his gloves. He began to speak in a complex manner, with the dark humor typical of his job. "An old chap, almost decomposed… Must have been a bad one, probably."
"What's the deal?" Alexei asked.
"Got a little tattoo, ex-con… And a bullet right in the forehead," Semyonych pulled back the sheet from the body, and Alexei saw what was left of the man who had been in the ground for so long.
"See?" Semyonych pointed to the bullet.
Alexei nodded.
"And the second one?"
"Yeah, same story, Lenchik, and also a bullet in the forehead. Come back after lunch, and you can pick up the report."
"I’ve already had lunch."
"Well, I, the hardworking one, haven’t had time," Semyonych muttered as he fiddled with his tools. "Go on, your buddy Filatov’s hanging around here."
"What’s he doing here? His father sent him elsewhere."
"Ask him yourself," Semyonych replied, taking off his gloves, running his hand over his "Stas Mikhailov-style" beard, and then washing his hands.
"Alright, Semyonych, I’ll be back."
"Yeah," Semyonych nodded. "Oh, right, Leon… you asked for this." He pulled a small box from the desk and handed it to Alexei. "These are the items found with him. The ring’s the main thing; the rest didn’t survive."
"Semyonych, thanks," Alexei smiled gratefully. "I almost forgot." He opened the bag and took out the silver ring with a garnet stone.
"Beautiful," Alexei muttered, slipping the ring back into the bag as he headed for the hallway.
Leon Filatov was easy to spot from afar. Though he was 45, short, and starting to go gray, he had a certain charm. He often attracted people with his amusing expressions, his ability to listen, and the way his small, dark eyes lit up in a lively conversation.