Chapter I.I

The greenest city in the United States has already woken up from its slumber. From early morning on the streets of glorious Portland, were already coming into their own the automobiles - unofficial, but recognized by all citizens kings of the streets. In addition to motorists, shopkeepers also did not luxuriate in their beds for long and were already going to work.

Galbraith stood near the grocery store window and, out of boredom, stared at the sign, on which the hand of an unknown artist was somewhat garish, but quite plausible depicted sausages and cheeses, next to which lay a single tomato and a head of cabbage. Combining products like this served two purposes - notified the potential buyer about what he could buy in this place, and also (which was essentially the essence of all advertising art) made him feel hungry and want to buy it as soon as possible.

In the end, Galbraith still could not resist the charm of advertising and entered the large glass doors. Taking a basket from a stack located right at the entrance, he headed deeper into the store - where the merchandiser, invisible to customers, ordered to be laid out all sorts of meat delicacies. Wandering between the shelves, Galbraith shrank a little from the chill in the room - air conditioners were running at full capacity. He wasn't particularly afraid of catching a common cold, but still, with his neck wet from sweat, he couldn't say it was very pleasant to experience such a temperature difference.

Despite the rich assortment presented in this grocery store, Galbraith could not find what he was looking for. He just needed a quick snack on the go with some tasty sandwich, but this shop, unfortunately, only offered food for eating at the home table with the family. Therefore, Galbraith, regretting that he had wasted his time visiting this place, put the basket near cash register and was preparing to leave, when suddenly his attention was attracted by a obese person standing near the department where nuts were piled high in plastic crates. This man, dressed in a gray demi-season raincoat that went down to his knees, looked around furtively and, scooping up a handful of peanuts with his palm, stuck his hand into his bottomless pockets.

Galbraith, being a police inspector, could not help but ignore such a fact of violation of the law. He exchanged glances with the salesman, a young guy who stood behind the counter with a bored look. After that, he quickly approached the lawbreaker and, trying to give his voice as steely an expression as possible, said:

- Come on, young man, show me what's in your pockets!

"Young man"  looked about ten years older than Galbraith himself, but the essence of this appeal was to catch the criminal by surprise, that the inspector was completely successful. Fatso in raincoat turned around in shock and stared at Galbraith with his tiny eyes, which seemed to be trying to hide among the folds of fat on his wide face.

- Who are you to say that? - a man caught at the scene of a crime tried to hide his fear under the guise of rudeness.

- It doesn't matter, - Galbraith answered calmly. - Please put the nuts back.

- What nuts? What are you talking about? - fatso took a step back, still holding his hand in his coat pocket, 

- I don't want to use force, so I look forward to your conscientiousness, - inspector said without raising his voice.

Corpulent and clumsy man cowardly leaned his back against the rack of canned goods standing behind him. Tin cans crashed onto the concrete floor of the store, and the pickpeanut almost slipped on a can of canned pineapple.

- What do you need from me? - losing his composure, exclaimed the man in the raincoat, balancing on one leg.

Instead of answering, Galbraith pulled out his police identifier from his bosom and involuntarily smiled when he saw how the face of the fatso, who was able to maintain his balance in the midst of scattered canned food, stretched out. Realizing who he had to deal with, he put out this unfortunate handful of roasted peanuts from his pocket and was about to leave, but inspector's imperious cry "Stop!" made him freeze in place.

- Your name? Address? Place of work? - on automatic Galbraith uttered the usual patter for such cases.

- Irles... My name is Irles Nacht, - like a guilty schoolboy, this pathetic man began to report.

- In the garden elder, and in Vancouver earl, - inspector sarcastically quoted a some proverb.

It was difficult for Galbraith not to contain his burst of mirth - It was impossible to look at this shoplifter without laughing. When Irles already announced his place of work, Galbraith suddenly heard his name and turned around - in the doorway of the store stood a man who looked to be about five years younger than the inspector himself.

- What, Galbraith, picked up the pickpocket? - cheerfully said that guy as he approached the two.

- As you can see, buddy, - Galbraith answered, trying not to relax in front of the Irles's eyes.

- Hey you, dodderer! - the younger man turned to the thief. - Is it so difficult for you to legally acquire these tiny nuts?

Galbraith tried to hold back his expressive friend, but he had already come close to the fatso shaking with fear and grabbed him by the collar.

- Listen to me, you learner, - he hissed angrily right in the shoplifter's face. - Thou shalt not steal! Weren't you taught this as a kid?

In response, Irles let out a barely audible wheeze, and the younger man squeezed his neck even harder.

- You are a bad geezer! - he continued. - If you don't learn my lesson, I'll gouge your piglet blinkers out!

Having said this, Galbraith's friend put forward the little finger and index finger of his right hand. At the sight of this gesture, fatso's eyes pop out.

- Get over it, you're a policeman! - shouted Galbraith, seriously frightened for the fate of the pickpeanut.