TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

By Remote Means

79 everyone could even fit into that room of circulating draughts. They crowded around the doors, someone even got his fingers caught in them and was cut to the bone. Then the usual, banal racket of the space was cut by a jungle scream. Finally, from these as if powerful underground blows that swayed the crowd there came a real tsunami, and the judge, his forehead sweating, his bladder suddenly about to burst, good god, he can’t recall when he hit with so much energy, with all his heart, nay, with all his strength, the hammer… After the unexpected robbery from the home of the president of the football association, a person known to society, a “face”, an altruist, a patron of culture (“this robbery hurts all of us all the more”), living in a house on the street of the restaurant Bay Leaf, a gated street locked and watched with the eyeballs of security cameras, there remained absolutely no “legitimate signs of criminal action”. No marks of a break-in. Absolute cleanliness. One hundred thousand vanished from the womb of the safe in those unreachable rooms – money not just for anything, but slated for the elderly gone blind and the poor charges of orphanages swelling from hunger – and not a trace left behind. The crime, cut from paper, hangs in the air. Well, our crimes often hang, but this time… And who is this suspect? Maybe some legendary, uncatchable bank robber like John Dillinger with a dashing hat, a tie or bow- tie, a charismatic mustache, leaving behind him a