Free The Dead Mountaineer's Inn by Arkady Strugatsky

and Olaf were sitting at the table playing cards. In the middle of the table there was a tower of crumpled bills. When he saw me, Du Barnstoker made a sweeping gesture and exclaimed:
    â€œCome in, come in, Inspector! My dear Olaf, you don’t mind if the inspector sits in, do you?”
    â€œOf course not,” Olaf said, without looking up from his cards. “With pleasure.” He called spades.
    I apologized and closed the door. Where was that chortler hiding himself? I couldn’t see, or more surprisingly hear him anywhere. And why did I even care?
    I can shoot pool by myself. There’s not much of a difference, really—I’d even say it’s more fun. I set off for the billiard room; on the way there, I got a little shock. At the bottom of the attic stairs, pinching the hem of her long, luxurious dress with two fingers, was Mrs. Moses.
    â€œNow you’re tanning too?” I blurted out, unable to control myself.
    â€œTanning? Me? What an odd idea.” She crossed the hall towards me. “What strange suggestions you make, Inspector!”
    â€œPlease don’t call me Inspector,” I asked. “I hear it enough on the job … To hear it now from you too …”
    â€œI a-
dore
police officers,” Mrs. Moses said, rolling her beautiful eyes. “They’re heroes, men of courage … You’re a brave man yourself, aren’t you?”
    Somehow it happened that I had offered her a hand and was leading her towards the billiard room. It was a white hand, hard and surprisingly cold.
    â€œMadame,” I said. “You’re practically freezing …”
    â€œNot at all, Inspector,” she said, realizing her mistake at the last minute. “But then what can I call you now?”
    â€œPeter, maybe?” I suggested.
    â€œThat would be charming. I had a friend named Peter once: Baron Von Gottesknecht. Perhaps you two know each other?… But then in that case, you must call me Olga. And what if Moses were to hear that?”
    â€œHe’ll survive,” I muttered. I glanced sideways at her extraordinary shoulders, her queenly neck, her proud profile, all of which made me hot to the point of chills. She’s an idiot, I thought feverishly—but then so what? Whatever. A lot of people are idiots!
    We passed through the dining room and found ourselves in the billiard room. Simone was there. For some reason he had pressed himself into a shallow but wide recess in the wall. His face was red and his hair disheveled.
    â€œSimon!” shouted Mrs. Moses, putting her hands to her cheeks. “What on earth …?”
    In answer to this Simone let out a screech and, pushing his legs and arms against the sides of the recess, worked his way up to the ceiling.
    â€œMy god, you’ll kill yourself!” Mrs. Moses cried.
    â€œYou know she’s right, Simone,” I said in annoyance. “Quit playing around or you’ll break your neck.”
    The fool, however, was nowhere near breaking his neck and dying. He reached the ceiling, hung there for a second, growing even more flushed with blood, and then lightly and gently jumped to the floor, where he saluted us. Mrs. Moses began clapping.
    â€œWhat a marvel you are, Simon,” she said. “A human fly!”
    â€œWell, Inspector?” said Simone, who was a little out of breath. “Shall we fight for the glory of this beautiful lady?” He picked up a cue and lunged towards me as if it were a fencing sword. “Inspector Glebsky, I challenge you to defend yourself!”
    With these words he turned to the billiard table and, without taking time to aim, shot the eight ball across the table and into the corner pocket with such a crack that my eyes grew dark. However, retreat was out of the question. I gloomily picked up a cue.
    â€œFight, gentlemen, fight,” Mrs. Moses said. “The beautiful woman will leave a token for the