I, Viola Tarakanova, can’t live without crimes. And the funny part is—they always find me themselves! This time it all started when, during my visit with Asya Babkina, a terrible grief struck her: Lyalya, her daughter, died. She went to sleep and didn’t wake up… Then various events distracted me from someone else’s misfortune: I flooded the neighbors, and the publishing house accepted my first detective novel for print. I was over the moon! But then, suddenly, a call came from the hospital: Asya, who was there with a heart attack, wanted me to come. From her I learned the unbelievable: they buried not her daughter, but someone else’s child…