Fyodor turned onto a barely noticeable path into the Catholic part of the cemetery, where the ancient tombs of Polish merchant families with green marble angels lived out their days... A closed cemetery is a great place for a hiding place. A leaf among leaves, a body among bodies... He stood on an overgrown path, examining the nearest crypt, rightly believing that the killer had no reason to hide the corpse far away. If they start looking, everything here will be turned upside down, but if they don’t, why try? Suddenly a ray of light reflected from a piece of glass lying on the steps of the crypt. The beam hit Fedor in the eye and he closed his eyes. Then he walked up to the steps and picked up a gold chain with a pendant - a shiny white stone. The crypt door was ajar, Fyodor pushed it and entered. The smell of dampness and decay filled his nose. Fyodor leaned forward to take a closer look... On the floor of the cramped crypt he saw a white dress and a red jacket. He found her...