The area greeted Alexey with little friendliness. The emergency workers had done their job well, the fire was out, but the stench of burning peat was overwhelming. Finding a stick, Alexey grabbed it and headed toward the swamp where two bodies had been found. The swamp seemed mostly dried up, but occasionally his feet would sink in. He used the stick to find a path and made his way deeper between the trees. A clearing appeared, and he stepped into it. His pants were, of course, dirty, with burrs stuck to them. About a hundred steps ahead stood a small house. Either a forester’s cabin or something similar, but clearly, a local forestry employee had once lived here. As he got closer, Alexey looked around. The house was completely dilapidated, the plaster crumbling, the walls overgrown with grass, and the windows shattered for some reason. The paint on the window frames was peeling, and there was an empty doghouse where a dog probably used to live. He decided to go inside. Glass jars were on the windowsill, some broken, but all covered in a thick layer of dust. Everything was clean and tidy, giving the impression that a new owner was expected to move in. The fridge in the corner was empty. A bed covered with a blanket, wooden stools. The heat was unbearable. Alexey found a relatively clean spot and laid his jacket down. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. From here, the place where the two bodies had been found was clearly visible. He walked over to the window, wiped the dust off the table, and placed the expert report there.

"…shots from a hunting rifle from a distance of one hundred meters… both were killed…"

– "One was killed at a distance of one meter… Bullets of a certain caliber," he read aloud.

– "Hmm," he thought. "That means there were at least three people there, maybe four. One of them killed another, and the others were finished off by shots from a hundred meters."

– "Nonsense!"

Closing the file, he decided to inspect the house from the outside. Grabbing a long stick, he started parting the bushes that had grown thick around the house. Apart from a few tin cans and an empty vodka bottle, he found nothing. He picked up the bottle from the ground, glanced at the year printed on the label, and recalled how, back in those days, the word "vodka" was decoded as "Here He Is, Kind Andropov." Such a nickname had been earned by the general secretary for lowering the price of the popular drink. He stuffed the bottle into the bag he had brought with him. As he was about to head back inside the house to grab his jacket and the file, his gaze fell on a chunk of plaster, nearly falling off the wall. Picking it out with his finger, he found a bullet lodged in the wall. Tapping the wall with the stick he had found earlier, he discovered several more bullets embedded within. It was clear that the shattered windows were the result of gunfire, not because someone had broken in. After all, there was nothing worth stealing inside, and if it had been vagrants or hooligans, the house would be a mess.

– "So what exactly happened here thirty years ago?"

Collecting all the bullets into his bag, he took his things and headed to the place where the bodies had been found.

Wandering around for a while, he initially found nothing. Not surprising—so many years had passed. He circled one tree, then another, but there was nothing. Then he stumbled upon an object. Alexei bent down—it was a knife, possibly a hunting knife, with a rusted blade and a handle caked in dirt. He pulled a bag from his pocket and dropped the knife inside. Soon, he found a couple of shell casings as well. That was the end of his discoveries. He walked around the area a bit more but found nothing else.

Then his phone rang.

– "Lyonya, are you coming?" Filatov asked, amid some background noise. It was clear that the initiation party for the new member of the team was in full swing.

– "Lyonya… No, I'm on my way," Alexei realized it was better to agree rather than endure a long conversation with his friend about why he should come to the party.

– "Drop everything and get over here! There's a girl here… I’d totally hit that…" Filatov said, his voice now much quieter over the phone.

– "Fine… I'll be there soon. You dog," Alexei muttered as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Looking around once more, and after a moment of thought, Alexei headed towards the local administration building, asking the villagers for directions along the way.

The administration building was U-shaped and two stories tall, with a recently updated facade. The prosperity of the administration was evident—Mercedes and BMWs were parked all around. Alexei quickly bounded up the stairs and opened the doors. Walking down the long hallway, he approached a door labeled "Reception."

– "Vladimir Vladimirovich is currently busy," reported the secretary, a woman in her fifties. Everything about the place screamed "village administration," from the open window to the wildflowers in a vase on the windowsill and the very modest decor of the room.

– "Following a trend or just a namesake?" he asked, seeing that the secretary was flustered.

He continued, – "Just kidding. I'm from the prosecutor's office. Let him know I'm here."

Alexei had often noticed that the word "prosecutor" had a certain magic to it. Important meetings would end abruptly, encounters with prostitutes at the workplace would be cut short, and all sorts of shady dealings would come to a halt. Soon, a young woman emerged from the office, and Alexei stepped inside.

He was greeted by a man in his fifties, of medium height, full-figured, dressed in a white shirt and tie. He extended his hand and smiled, flashing teeth as white as those in a toothpaste commercial. Though no longer young, Alexei quickly understood the recent departure of the young woman—the man was still attractive, with graying hair that only added to his charm. His firm handshake suggested he kept up with some form of exercise, and although he had a slight belly, it was clear that he remained appealing to women.

Alexei shook his hand, and the man gestured for him to sit down.

– "So, what can I do for… our prosecutor’s office?"

– My name is Alexey Sergeyevich Martynov, about those swamps of yours…

– Ah… – the man didn’t let him finish. – Oh, sorry, – he quickly corrected himself.

– No worries, go on, – Alexey nodded to him in agreement.

– I am Vladimir Vladimirovich, head of the local administration… There was an unpleasant story there… But you'd better talk to the locals. I only know bits and pieces from rumors.

– What was the forestry business about? – Alexey asked with interest.

– There was something like that, the Moscow region was expanding, and back then there was more forest here. There were foresters, they guarded the area. When capitalism kicked in and construction began, that position was gradually eliminated.

– Who worked there? I’d like to take a look at the records.

– Just a moment, – Vladimir Vladimirovich pressed a few buttons and mumbled an order to fetch the documents from the archive. While waiting for the secretary, they exchanged a few polite sentences on unrelated topics, had another cup of coffee, and then there was a knock on the door.

– Yes… Lidochka, come in.

The secretary entered and handed over the documents. Vladimir Vladimirovich took the heavy folder and flipped through a few pages. The secretary left.

– Aha, – he said, – here’s 1981, – he turned a few more pages, his expression becoming more serious, and he pressed the buttons again and shouted,

– Lida! Come in, quickly!

The secretary appeared again.

– What is this?!

She hurried over, looking at the folder in surprise.

– I don’t know… I – she began gesticulating nervously – Vladimir Vladimirovich… you know I… – she was getting more and more upset.

– What’s going on? Tell me, – said Alexey, standing up. The folder was handed to him. Everything indicated that the forester's photograph and his personal details had been removed.

– Who was the last person to access the archive? – Alexey asked.

– No one, it’s been untouched for ages, – the secretary tried to defend herself, waving her hands and wiping tears from her face with the same hands.

– Lida! – the boss slammed his palm on the table.

– I’m telling you, – the secretary yelled in frustration – no one!

– You… sit down. Calm down. No one’s blaming you. Just think, who has access to it? – Alexey reassured her and sat her down next to him, nodding to the boss as if to say, "Enough, stop."

– Well, no one, I have access, our administration is small, and there’s no point in hiring extra staff. Plus, I manage everything myself… I don’t even know, – she explained.

– Lida… has anything suspicious happened? – Alexey asked.

– Nothing, I’m telling you, no… I can’t recall anything.

– You know, I can’t think of anyone – maybe the postman, the plumber, the district police officer, those people whose presence we always trust…

For some reason, she smiled and brightened up.

– Oh, you know, yes! Yes! You’re right, the plumber was there… we had some work going on…

The boss interrupted her and didn’t let her finish.

– The building is old, we’re replacing all the pipes with plastic ones, and… 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 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.