What beauty hides

I have a friend Nick. He has an apartment on the second floor of an apartment building in another block.

He and his wife had a small business beauty salon. He unwound a little and bought an apartment for himself — on the second floor. They completed all the documents and opened a beauty salon right under their apartment. And recently he calls me, invites me to drink vodka, have a snack.

Actually, for those who know Nick, the fact that he invited someone to his outright drunkenness for no reason is already from the field of paranormal phenomena: he himself is not a fan of treating someone. If not for relatives, he would have ignored his own birthday. And his wife was a match for him: a little greedy and even unsociable.

Well, I decided that this time I was going to unravel the human soul, and went to their house.

The vodka was good, but it was difficult to get it: it’s not easy to eat and drink when the hostess watches your every action and immediately calculates the losses in her mind.

Easily or with difficulty, but the contact was established. Then we started talking. And then I noticed an interesting feature of this evening: a friend and wife, people who called me a psychic behind my back, now suddenly listened with interest to my stories about what people call inexplicable, and even asked questions. Moreover, their questions were of a more practical nature. If it weren’t for my laziness, then based on the results of our conversation, I could write a textbook: What is an evil spirit and how to deal with it?

Despite the alcohol and the smoke of menthol cigarettes that his wife smoked (and I can’t stand menthol), an analyzer worked in my head, and I asked the question “Why, in fact, are you so interested in this?” The husband and wife looked at each other, their faces became more severe, and Nick, having gathered himself inwardly, resolutely got up from the table “Come with us!”

And we went. But personally, I was scared. Moreover, his wife, without my knowledge (well, she decided so), took a kitchen knife. What if they’re cannibals and I’m on their menu for next week?

We went down to the first floor; Nick opened the door, and we entered their beauty salon (a former residential apartment, and they also talk about rising real estate prices, that there is not enough housing …)

The salon is like a salon. Chairs, tables, all sorts of nonsense, from which there is no benefit. But it seems to customers the height of glamor and the basis for astronomical bills.

I asked: what exactly are we doing here? If you have an action for a night marathon, then one evening will not be enough to make me beautiful.

“You see,” the friend began, “the work was going well. There were regular customers there. The prices are low (here I snorted, but quickly pretended that I had a cough). Everything was going well. But about three weeks ago, this nonsense started. In the morning we open the salon, and the floor is wet. We thought that the pipes were leaking, called a plumber (Nick’s wife sighed heavily — apparently she remembered about the expenses), but he didn’t find anything. I myself checked every millimeter of all the pipes that are outside — nothing. Then the complaints started. For example, a client is lying in a solarium, does not touch anyone, is sunbathing, and suddenly the device turns off, or someone opens the lid. And one of them complained the other day that someone pinched her soft spot”

“Tell her about the computer,” his wife nudged Nick to the side.

“Yes! Someone turns on the computer at night. We thought that the secretary forgot to turn it off, but she burst into tears, I don’t want to work for you, she says! She says she’s scared here! And she quit. And the computer, three days after she left, turned off altogether and burned to the ground. Literally, can you imagine? In the middle of the working day, he suddenly hissed, sparks fell, and the wires caught fire. It’s good that we have it with us, otherwise there would have been a fire at all!”

While this semi-hysterical confession was going on, I was studying the room. Former apartment. Three rooms. Corridors. Rooms with a bathroom. Balcony. Everything seems calm. And in one room I sobered up. When I entered this room, I noticed how quickly the window closed. Strange. I didn’t find anything unusual in the room. A table, shelves for things, a solarium and all sorts of nonsense. The interior was chosen stylish, “which will have to be snatched on the cheap,” as they say. But the window did not give me peace of mind…

An inspection of the window yielded nothing. By the way, you can try it at home: put your palm to the glass, just don’t touch the glass. If you don’t feel anything, then everything is fine in your house. But if you feel it, then there is already a classification: tingling is a poltergeist; coolness, cold is a ghost; if it starts to burn, then leave the apartment and leave.

It is in this room that there is something. Just outside the door, in the hallway, there is a “reception room” (as Nick proudly said) — a table with a computer. There are definitely problems in the room.

“When,” I ask, “did it start?”

“About three weeks ago.”

“Did you buy anything for this room at that time?”

“We just bought a solarium.”

And I’m already standing by the phone. I did not have time to stretch out my hand, as a light breeze came to me from the direction of this solarium.

“Did you buy a used one or something?” I asked, not expecting any trick.

But then Nick suddenly turned pale, and his wife, on the contrary, blushed and immediately turned green.

“good… You know…” Nick muttered.

And his wife suddenly attacked her husband with her fists, “Oh, you parasite! You told me it was something new! In oil! Where did the rest of the money go?!”” the wife began to shout at her husband.

They started swearing, and I’m standing there and I’m not myself: it’s like the scandal started because of me. And suddenly the door to the room slammed shut with a bang. The three of us froze in horror.

I immediately took the couple out of the apartment:

“Don’t swear here, he doesn’t like it!”

“Who?”

“Ask those who sold you a solarium”

Then Nick’s wife helped me by attacking her husband again, “Tell me, who did you buy this from?”

Nick said that in another area, in a beauty salon with his friends, the solarium was in good condition, and there was a girl in it. So she died there from burns.

The solarium was confiscated from them as non-compliant with safety requirements and ordered to be destroyed. And Nick, as it turned out, greased someone and took the solarium for himself.

They threw this device away (at least that’s what they told me, although I suspect they brought someone else), and everything stopped. It seems that everything went well with them. Nick happily even promised that I would be served for free in their salon. Yes, they did not keep their promises: I call them, and they have repairs, then re-accounting, then something else. God is their judge.

And I made inquiries and found out what kind of girl died. I saw her picture on the tombstone. She was beautiful when she was alive. Yes, it seems, that was her fate. She died in pursuit of beauty and fashion …

I put flowers on her grave. I gave money to a local novice to recite prayers.

May the earth be at peace with her.

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