A person who loves the rain. Алексей Аркадьевич МухинЧитать онлайн книгу.
probably left it unattended.
– Maybe, but that’s all… the archive is always locked, and I have the key, – Lida said, looking from one to the other – and the plumber is a bit of a drunk.
– Lidochka, I’ll give you an order – bring Vladimir Vladimirovich and me a glass of cold water. It’s not even hot, but… we’re thirsty.
She left. While she was gone, Alexey asked,
– Who is this plumber?
– Well, maybe it wasn’t him. They’re just guys doing side jobs, acquaintances of an acquaintance.
– Give me the coordinates, – Alexei stepped closer to the person he was talking to.
– Ah… – the boss hesitated, – why did you send her for water? – he smiled as he asked.
– Gotta take care of the staff. Why did you make the woman nervous? – Alexei asked instructively. – She’ll walk around and calm down.
– You’re a psychologist… – the boss smiled again – here you go, – he pulled out a business card from the drawer and handed it to Alexei.
– Got it.
Lida entered, brought some cold water, he drank it and said goodbye.
– By the way, why are foreign cars so expensive? You guys are misusing the national projects… – Alexei asked, suddenly turning around – Just kidding!
– 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