The fog of vice and spirits often leads to the most wretched of ends, and such was the case in the town of Kurgan. A woman of six-and-forty years now sits behind iron bars, accused of a crime so foul it would make a seasoned beadle shudder.

It happened in the sweltering heat of July. In a cramped dwelling, thick with the stench of cheap liquor, three women sat in a drunken revelry. But as the bottles emptied, tempers flared. A quarrel erupted—sharp and sudden—and the accused, seized by a demonic rage, took up a heavy bat. She rained blows upon her companion's head with such savage force that the poor soul was struck dead where she fell.

But the horror did not cease with the blow. The remaining drinking companion, rather than summoning the authorities, chose the path of the criminal. With the aid of some low-life ruffians, she disposed of the corpse, casting the remains into a common rubbish bin as if the victim were mere offal. To crown this villainy, the woman plucked the deceased's telephone from her person and pawned it at a local shop for a few miserable coins.

The victim, a woman of nine-and-forty, was missed by her kin, who raised the alarm. The murderess, thinking herself clever, fled to a neighbouring province to escape the law. However, the relentless detectives of the Kurgan police—true bloodhounds of the force—tracked her scent across the border. On the 8th of August, she was apprehended and brought back in irons, where she finally confessed her grisly deed.

Now, the investigators toil in the dirt, searching for the scattered remains of the unfortunate woman. The accomplices who helped hide the body and the thieves who profited from the stolen device are also being hunted. Justice, though slow, is coming for these wretches.