– 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'?