A person who loves the rain

– All the best, – the director said to him.

– All the best, – Alexei nodded.

Then he headed to meet the locals. The first house near the forest belonged to Old Man Trofim.

– Grandpa, are you going mushroom picking today? – his grandson sat at the table, looking at him.

– No, grandson, I picked a lot yesterday. We’ll make pies and fry some as well.

Grandpa Trofim stroked his grandson’s head, and the boy smiled. They were in complete harmony. The boy, 6 years old, was an obedient child, fair-haired and curious like all children. Over time, he started asking to spend summers with his grandpa instead of going to pioneer camps. Being with grandpa was great; he knew all kinds of stories, and they could go mushroom or berry picking, the nature here was beautiful, and there was fishing, too. They’d set up boat rides on the local river. It was a paradise. The grandson, Seryozha, got along with the neighboring kids, though not without fights, of course. But to him, as he called his grandpa, his “first friend” was still the most important. His son had moved to the city and invited him to come along, as the old house was becoming unfit. But after his wife passed, whom he had lived with for more than half a century, grandpa decided not to change anything.

The old man adjusted his shirt, ran his hand through his still somewhat full, not entirely gray hair, and looked at his grandson with a smile.

– Once I get some new teeth, you’ll have a grandpa who’s as good as new… Or at least decent, – the old man added with a grin. – Let's go chop some wood, I need strong hands.

– Grandpa, let’s go. – The boy rolled up his papers and set off with his grandpa. It was a good day outside, the sun wasn’t too hot yet, the air smelled of grass, a light breeze was blowing, and the dog barked, circling the two of them. The boy hugged her, and the young shepherd dog, in her typical passionate way, started licking him.

– Alright, grandson, I’ll grab the axe. – Grandpa Trofim turned around, only to see a man in uniform approaching the gate.

– I’m Alexei, from the prosecutor's office!

– No need to shout, come on in, good man. – The old man walked over to the gate and opened it. Alexei stepped inside.

– I’d like to talk to you. Are you Trofim?

– We’ll talk, come to the gazebo, – the old man gestured where to go – Have a seat, and I’ll bring you some milk, – offered Grandpa Trofim.

– No need, don’t trouble yourself, – Alexei shook his head side to side, but arguing was pointless. The old man disappeared, then returned with a pitcher and two cups.

– It’s nice and cold, – he commented, setting the pitcher on the table and sitting down beside him.

– I’m Senior Investigator Alexei Martynov, – he took out his ID. The old man glanced at it and called his grandson to play with the dog while he talked. Then he fixed his gaze on the visitor.

– They found two bodies… – Alexei began.

The old man said nothing, just nodded.

– Do you know anything about it?

– Yes, – the old man sighed – that’s an old story. There was an incident here…

It wasn't so good about thirty years ago. There's a forest ranger's house nearby; it used to be swampy around there, and there was no place to build, so they built it… pretty much on the swamp. There was a couple that used to come by, they would always come to me for milk. They went there on dates; she was beautiful, that woman of his. And the guy, he was decent too, you know… Can we switch to 'you'?

Aleksey nodded.

– Yeah, like two halves of one whole, like they were made for each other. But then something happened, and they stopped coming by. One time, he came alone, really upset. There was a heavy downpour then, and I asked him, 'Where's your beloved?' And he was so sad. 'She got married…' And then later, he came running, all cheerful… poor guy! – at these words, the old man became upset, laid his head on his hand, and nearly cried – 'She’ll come!… Ah…'

– So, what? – Aleksey made a face, as if asking, "What happened next?"

– There was shooting next – the old man understood his reaction. But what happened exactly isn’t clear. There was a forest ranger, I think he rented them the house.

– Do you remember the ranger? Sorry to interrupt.

– Yeah… halfway, kind of. So many years have passed. I remember the couple well, they're still in my mind, but the ranger… no, probably not, I don't recall.

– I see. Trophim Matveevich, do you know the local area well?

– Well, I've lived here all my life. How could I not know it, my good man?

– I'll stop by if I need you to show me around?

– Of course, stop by, my good man – the old man agreed.

– Oh, and your milk is tasty. You're a temptress – Aleksey smiled, taking another sip.

They said their goodbyes. Grandpa Trophim walked him to the gate and went to his grandson.

Aleksey reached the prosecutor’s office by evening; he still had to drop by the experts and hand in the bullets and knife found at the crime scene. He went up to the second floor, passed the reception – Lyuba was already gone, meaning his father had also gone home. Aleksey walked to the end of the hallway and opened the door to the room where all the prosecutor’s office celebrations took place: birthdays, promotions, welcoming new employees, and countless other reasons marked in red on the calendar. Empty bottles stood near the table. On the table, besides the dirty plates, were a couple of untouched dishes, ashtrays, and the windows were open.

– So, they were smoking in here.

“Slobs!” thought Aleksey.

Someone was washing dishes; the sound of running water could be heard. He tossed the folder onto a chair and sat down. He heard footsteps. A woman of about 30 came around the corner. A beautiful brunette, hair slicked back, expressive eyes, full lips. A pleasant smile.

– Are you Aleksey? – the stranger asked. – I’m Katya, your new colleague. Everyone’s gone, and Sergey Leonidovich asked me to stay and feed you.

– Feed me – he said, somewhat pensively and sadly, looking at the new employee. Then he stood up. – Katya, I need to do one thing quickly. Will you sit with me?

She spread her hands to the sides.

– You’re so persuasive.

He hesitated. In the office, Aleksey pulled a bag from the desk with the label "Evidence for your new case" and took out one bullet, placing it next to the one he found in the forest.

"Same! Twins! I'll wait for the experts, of course," he thought. Then he locked the office and returned to Katya.

– Are you tired? – she sat down beside him. He nodded, indicating he was.

– Have a drink with me – Aleksey turned to her.

– With pleasure – she agreed – Let me take care of you. She grabbed a plate and served two kinds of salads.

– Thank you – he brightened up. – I’ve been sitting here without lunch.

– What, really?! – Katya sat across from him, folding her hands on her lap, watching as he devoured the plate’s contents.

– If you keep looking at me like that…

She realized she was making him uncomfortable and picked up her own plate.

"I’ll join you."

Aleksei poured cognac into the glasses.

"To getting acquainted!" he raised his glass.

"To getting acquainted," Katya echoed.

"How were you received?" Aleksei asked.

"Quite well, good guys. We already spoke with your father… Filatov is… no comments."

"Yeah… something like that," Aleksei replied. "So why did you transfer?"

"Family reasons. I’d rather not talk about it."

Aleksei nodded in agreement.

"And it's closer to home here. At my previous job, it took a long time to commute, but here, it’s just two trolleybus stops away."

"Shall I walk you home?" Aleksei asked.

"That would be nice," she smiled, then asked, "And what about you? How’s work? You’re home late."

"It’s better to finish everything and not worry. I’ve done all I wanted, so now I’m calm. The area’s quiet, though the city’s been getting noisy lately. Well, work’s still there, but not like before, when… it feels like we used to sleep here. Did you hear about Goryainov getting whacked around here? It was a big event for the neighborhood, such an honor," he added with sarcasm.

"I heard, Filatov filled me in… Lyosha, and what about him? He seems like a nice man… but alone."

Aleksei raised his eyebrows, "I don’t know, I think maybe his time just passed, so he's alone. Or his time hasn’t come yet… These are big philosophical questions, and only God knows the answers. As for us… we just talk, complain about life, and

"…and nothing more."

"Fair enough," Katya smiled.

"I’ll have a quick bite and help you with the dishes."

"Lyosha, that’s a woman’s job… don’t make a fuss."

But arguing was pointless; he helped wash the dishes and then walked the lady home.

"Why didn’t you show up yesterday? It was great! Katya is quite a catch," Filatov called as Aleksei was driving.

"Lyonya, I’m still sleeping," Aleksei answered.

"Sleeping?!" Filatov was surprised.

"Well, metaphorically speaking. I’m heading to see Elena Skrynnik. But I’ll be at work today."

"That’s good, because your father’s being called to the city office…"

"For what?" Aleksei interrupted.

"They want to take over the case," Filatov explained.

"Which case?"

"Yours, the one about those two bodies in the marshlands."

"Hm," Aleksei smirked, annoyed. "Interesting. I’m glad you guys had fun. I stopped by later and met Katya. Nice girl… Alright, Lyonya, later." Aleksei hung up and quickly picked up speed.

Shepelev Street was in a private sector. He was just pulling up to it. Slowing down, he began looking closely at the house numbers.

House 33 was two stories tall and looked very new among the older buildings. It was clear that it had been built recently; the sand around the house hadn't yet been cleared, and the fence was unnaturally clean for the area. Aleksei stopped the car and got out. He rang the doorbell at the gate. A dog’s barking could be heard.

"Coming, coming—Mitya, open up," someone yelled. The voice seemed to be a woman's. A tall, thin young man in uniform, holding a radio, appeared—probably the security guard.

"You are…?" he drawled.

"Senior Investigator of the Prosecutor’s Office, Aleksei Sergeevich Martynov."

– What did you want? – Does Mrs. Skrynnik live here? The guard nodded. – I’d like to speak with her. – What's the reason for the conversation? – Young man! Isn’t that too many questions for a guard?! I could come back, and I wouldn’t be alone. – Alright, no need to get upset – he backed away – I'll call her. – Lena, – he spoke into the radio. – Yes? – Prosecutor’s Office. – Prosecutor’s Office? Well, I don’t know… let him through… escort him, I’ll get dressed. The guard nodded and led him into the house.

Alexei entered a small living room. He sat down on a black leather sofa, placed the folder on the table, and waited for the hostess. Soon, she came downstairs. She was a woman of average height, with long chestnut hair that fell on her shoulders. She was wearing a brown robe and had her hands tucked into her pockets as she approached.

– Good afternoon. My name is Elena Skrynnik. How can I be of service to the prosecutor's office? It was clear that she had been crying, and she was trying to hide her emotions with a smile, but it wasn’t working very well.

Alexei introduced himself. Then he asked: – Lena, may I address you informally? She nodded. – Tell me, who is Pyotr Skrynnik to you? – That’s my father, but he disappeared 30 years ago… Wait, have you found him?! – She stood up at these words. – Please, sit down. We have found him. – My God – she clutched her chest. – Now, now, don’t worry – he tried to calm her down. – How can I not?! – Lena protested. – Would you like some water? – Alexei asked. – No, no – she motioned for him to sit down and sat herself. – Dad, daddy, they found him, I can’t believe it… Is he dead? – Lena… yes, let’s take it step by step. What do you know about his disappearance? – Mom told me… Oh, sorry. Let’s have some coffee; I didn’t offer you anything, and this conversation will probably be long – she stood up and headed to the kitchen – There’s so much to say about Dad – she explained – What news! My morning started off with a shock! Dad. – It’s okay, it’s okay… no need to worry – Alexei tried to calm her down. – Let’s have coffee – she insisted. Alexei nodded. From the kitchen, which was located at the end of the living room near the stairs, Elena continued her story. – You know, my dad wasn’t exactly a law-abiding citizen. He had dealings with your office. He was imprisoned twice and used to joke that his time in prison counted toward his pension… A minute later, she returned with coffee and sat down. – So, how did he disappear? – Mom told me the story, though I remember a little myself; I was very young at the time. Uncle Sergey called us, and he and Dad talked about something on the porch. My dad was a big, strong man with a tattoo of a spider web on his shoulder. Then, for some reason, he went into the storage room. Mom ran after him, and they argued for a long time. Dad shouted: – Don’t yell in front of the child! – He was a good, kind man, always protected me… Oh, I’m probably not telling you the right things, am I? – No, no, no – Alexei nodded – Continue however you feel comfortable. – He spoiled me often; Mom always scolded him for that. Anyway, that day he shouted – You know what Sergey means to me! And Mom yelled – What about me? What about your daughter? – Don’t bring my daughter into this! – They’ll kill you, Petya. They’ll kill you! – Mom tried for a long time to convince him, but if…

"They were sitting together, so… it's a diagnosis," she said with a condemning tone in her voice.

He took the rifle and left.

– "What kind of rifle?"

– "A hunting one, he had a permit. Mom cried for a long time then. And later, he disappeared, well… anyway… When can we go to see him?"

– "Yeah, anytime," Alexey sighed.

– "I'll go now," she placed her coffee cup on the table and started gathering her things hurriedly.

– "Excuse me, maybe it's not my business – is something wrong? Are you upset? And why are you with security?" he asked as she walked away.

– "Yeah… my ex-husband was a businessman, and he left it for me. We got divorced."

– "Hasn't the era of slavery been abolished?" Alexey joked.

– "You know how it is," she yelled from the staircase, "divorce doesn't exist in the criminal world. You’re responsible for your ex as well. Everything's fine, but it's better to be safe…"

– "Got it. Lena, may I see a picture of your father?"

– "Yes, of course." She flitted around the second floor like a butterfly in her robe. She came back with an album. After flipping through a few pages, she looked surprised.

Alexey walked up to her and saw the damaged photographs.

– "I see… Did you do anything with the plumbing recently?"

– "Yes, but how did you know?" Lena asked in surprise.

– "Well… can you describe him?"

– "Sure," she said thoughtfully, "A short man, well, I’d say medium height, in a baseball cap, you couldn't really see his face. He had a broad nose, around 55-60 years old, but sturdy, you know? Stocky. His eyes were small, barely visible. Well… that’s all… Could he have stolen something from me?" She panicked and ran off somewhere. She came back— "No, everything's fine. What's this all about?" she looked at Alexey, puzzled. "Why do I even need security!?"

He didn’t answer, just said:

– "Thanks, Lena, let’s go."

On the way to the morgue, Alexey asked about this Sergey. Of course, Lena had been a child and didn’t remember much, but she said her father had served time with him and had gone on two jobs together. At the morgue, she quickly identified her father by the spiderweb tattoo on his shoulder, his gold tooth, and the ring found with him.

She felt nauseous, and Alexey had to take her out into the hallway.

– "Oh! He’s shown up already! The meeting place can’t be changed! How are you here?" Filatov walked up to him.

– "We’re here for an identification," Alexey pointed at Lena.

– "Got it, alright."

Filatov had one irreplaceable quality – he could snap anyone out of their state quickly, whether it was his charm, his ability to tell a joke on any topic, or his healthy cynicism. This time, too, he quickly got Lena back on her feet.

The address Lena gave, where her father’s friend Sergey lived, wasn’t very precise, but that wasn’t surprising. After sending the girl back in the car, Alexey said goodbye to Filatov and headed to another address.

– "Misha, keep an eye on the kids, I’m exhausted in the kitchen, and the guests will be here soon," Nastya adjusted her apron and rushed back to the stove.

– "Alright, I’m coming," Mikhail, a man around 35 in blue jeans and a white sweater, got up from the couch and went to watch their rambunctious kids. The doorbell rang.

– "Misha, someone’s at the door, it's probably Ksyusha with her husband. Go answer it."

– "I’m coming," Mikhail grumbled and walked to the door. He looked through the peephole.

A man in a prosecutor's uniform stood there, holding a folder.

– Yes?

– My name is Alexey Martynov, I'm a senior investigator from the prosecutor's office… – with these words, he pulled out his ID.

– Come in – invited Mikhail.

– Is it Ksyusha? – shouted his wife from the kitchen.

– No, honey… It's the prosecutor's office!

– Oh my God! – a slender woman, around 40, with thick hair tucked under a scarf, appeared before Alexey. She wiped her hands on a towel and approached, eyeing the unexpected guest.

– Alexey Martynov.

– Anastasia… Sergeyevna – she held her gaze on him. She had large, expressive brown eyes, a well-proportioned face, and a slim figure. Beneath her apron was a fashionable dress, and she wore high-heeled shoes.

Alexey said he had an important message and suggested they sit down. They went to the next room, but Mikhail soon left as the children were making more and more noise.

– This is unexpected… – she was shocked by the news of the discovery and threw the towel onto a chair.

– Anastasia Sergeyevna…

– Just call me Nastya – she interrupted him.

– Alright. Nastya, you'll need to come for an identification, but I'd like to ask a few questions to clarify the cause of his death.

– Oh, Alexey… Sorry, what’s your patronymic?

– I respond to anything…

She appreciated the joke, and at that moment, it was somehow timely, given that this news came just before the arrival of guests… it was necessary to soften the blow somehow.

– Alexey, he wasn’t a pleasant person, he was friends with some Peter… Skrinnik, I think his surname was, but I sometimes talk to his daughter, we call each other, though she doesn’t visit us, we didn’t become friends. Our fathers were in prison together.

– I’ve been to her place, and we found her father too…

– Ah! Well, then there’s nothing more to discuss, right? I’m the daughter from his first marriage, and soon after, Dad met another woman and decided to leave my mother. I must say she was a good person, and Dad changed for the better with her… You know, Dad was like a beast, but she tamed the beast, and he looked at her like a miracle… In short, my dad lost his head and… fell in love. But that lady… she couldn’t forget her old love, and he suspected she was running back to him… I have her photo somewhere, just to make things clearer.