'Whose dog is this by the gates? The white one?' asked Andrew the moment his colleague entered the room.
'Good morning to you too,' grumbled the old officer, taking his sit.
'Good morning' stumbled the young man, also dropping into his chair by the window and looking expectantly at the bulky policeman he had to share the study with.
'Damn it! Would I ever wait till I retire at last? I'm sick of it! It's Sodom and Gomorrah early in the morning. Could I ever be pensioned off in peace?!'
Andrew waited until Mikhalich (as everybody called him here) finished his usual morning speech. He knew that it was no good to interrupt. He got used to this daily morning routine throughout the month he lived in this little town.
'Damn those lags. Why couldn't they just keep still in the damn colony?'
At the very moment Andrew's patience was at the verge to explode Mikhalich stopped to arrange his papers on the desk and lifted his head.
'What have you asked?' he sighed heavily.
'The dog. Whose dog is it?'
'What dog?'
'The dog that is here every morning, the large one, snow white.'
'The large and white?' repeated Mikhalich thoughtfully 'Don't know, haven't seen it.'
'How could you not? It's here every day... That's strange.'
'I don't know what you are mumbling about. You should have asked about the breakers.'
'What about them?'
'What about them?' mimicked Mikhalich with a squeaky voice and fishing out of his pile a sheet of paper he passed it to the young man. 'We got report this morning. Two jail breakers on the loose. We are combing the woods. The order is to depart in thirty minutes. Oh, by the way there would be definitely dogs here!' remarked he caustically.
Andrew said nothing. He got already accustomed to the communication manner of the old retiring officer. Mikhalich regarded Andrew as a young man who had a lot to learn despite his rather long service record and treated him like his own son. And as a grateful son, Andrew was forced to listen to the grumbling of the old investigation officer along with his advice and guidance.
An hour later, Andrew stopped the car at the edge of the forest noticing the cordon from afar. Cart road was wet from drizzle. If the rain gets heavier, it would be difficult to drive out of here after "ZILs" that brought a recovery team. One can only hope that this pursuit is not for long. However, as it is known from the experience those kinds of searches only end with the onset of the pitch darkness.
Andrew was about to get out of his car when something white flashed ahead. He flicked the wipers and peered into the rain mist. There against the gray horizon right up the hill that obscured the track from view was a snow-white spot of a dog. It was the same dog he asked Mikhalich about. Again it seemed strange that he knew nothing about it.
Andrew came to this little town a month ago and stepping out on the porch of his new home in the first morning, he saw a white dog. It was sitting in the grass outside the gates regarding him with a tilted head and a tongue lolled out.
'Hello, fellow. What are you doing here?'
The dog did not move an inch but for the eyes that followed his every move while he locked the house, opened the gates and started his car to go for his first day at work.
All done, he was surprised to find it on the same spot surveying him closely. But can dogs survey at all?
'Where is your master, boy?' Andrew stepped to the animal that stayed motionless still. 'Or should I rather say girl? And a pretty one!'
He tried to make out a collar in the long and glossy fur, but it definitely wasn't' there.
'I'm afraid I have nothing to give you. Besides I can be late in my first day and that is very undesirable,' he looked at his watch and stepped back to the car. In the rearview window, he saw the animal as motionless following him with its eyes, until he disappeared from view round the bend.
In two days, it all happened again. A silent and motionless guard met him on the same spot by the gate. This time he grabbed a slice of yesterdays smoked sausage from the refrigerator for her but the animal just smelled at his fingers and licked the back of his hand.
'Don't you eat from hands?' murmured Andrew and put the treat on the grass in front of her. But again she just watched him with her clever eyes without any glance at food. When he started the car, she was already out of sight.
The next day she met him at the gates of the police station so motionless as if waiting for someone. He looked around to ask for the owner, but there was no one nearby, even the sergeant was nowhere to be seen.
Days went by and Andrew met the enigmatical dog more often. In the morning she welcomed him at work and in the evening waited by the gates of his house as a sentry on guard. He started to leave her food. She never ate at his presence, but the treat always disappeared by the time he came back. Whether she ate it or some other stray animal of this little town, he did not know.
It was strange that no one seemed to have seen this dog except for himself. Andrew never believed in the supernatural stuff, as a police officer he used to rely on hard facts and tangible evidence and ever since he transferred here, he had no time for a personal investigation.
Now this mysterious dog was standing in the drizzling rain on the road ahead fixed her gimlet eyes on him. Andrew got out of the car and she waged her already wet tail greeting him.
'What are you doing here, girl?'
The animal trampled on the spot impatiently and when having caught his attention ran in the opposite direction at a trot. Andrew stopped, the dog copied him but returning a few steps backwards, she barked and set off onward again.
'I see. You want me to follow... I guess...' murmured the young man doubtfully and stepped forward.
Making sure the man took her invitation the white ghost of a dog ran along the country road that disappeared behind the hilltop and into the forest. In ten minutes of this escort, he scolded himself for such stupidity. How can he even imagine that the animal can actually lead him somewhere on purpose? Now when his jacket was soaked through the idea was ridiculously absurd. He regretted not guessing to go at least by car. He stopped to go back, but heard her resonant bark again. The dog watched his hesitation trotting impatiently on the spot and by witnessing his one more step forward again, she flew the track and headed straight to the forest through the soggy grass.
'Oh, no! That wasn't a deal. I'm not going into the woods in those.' He grumbled looking at his jogging shoes. Scrutinizing thoroughly through the illusion of rain he saw the dog. She was sitting under the old oak tree at the forest's edge and next to her rising over the wet grass for almost a meter was a granite memorial.
Moving dried flowers of a funeral wreath aside, he read barely visible wan inscription under the image of a winged angel "To immortal daughter" with once golden letters. There was nothing else, no date, no picture.
'Why have you brought me here, girl? What exactly should I understand?' Andrew patted the dog but she kept watching him head inclined to the side. 'Come on, we'd better go back to the car, its damn cold here.'
As he expected the search of fugitives dragged on late into the night and in vain. Worn out and exhausted they got back.
He remembered the memorial the next morning when noticing the dog on her stakeout by the gates of the police station, but to ask about it he had to hear out his colleague's morning speech first. So he waited patiently until he finally got the opportunity.
'Which memorial?' Mikhalich screwed up his face as Andrew changed the subject.
'The granite one by the forest road' qualified the young man.
'Oh, that.'
'Yes. Do you know it?'
'Very old case. Everyone here knows it.'
'What case? '
'Suicide. A young girl shot herself there. Her car with the dying letter was discovered only a day after. It was some stupid story I do not remember exactly for it was a very long time ago. I believe she went off the hooks or something.'
'Could there be a dog left?'
'A dog?'
'Yeah, a pup maybe.'
'How do I know? Even if she had one, it has joined her by now. It was thirty years ago or so... Yeah, thirty years exactly, I just got the job and they entrusted the investigation to me.'
'Thirty years', murmured Andrew thoughtfully. Then he is mistaken, the dog could not belong to the dead girl, but whom then?
'Yes, I remember it was raining for three days in a row, we hardly pulled the car out. The road was impassable.'
Andrew turned to the window, the rain sluggishly tapped at the glass.
'Do you remember when it was exactly?'
'No. Like I said it was many years ago, why?'
'Just curious.' Andrew shrugged his shoulders, trifling with a pencil. 'Do you remember what year was it exactly?' asked he half an hour later, not being able to concentrate on his work.
'Was what?!' Mikhalich looked up from his computer.
'The suicide.'
'Why the Devil does it bother you at all?' swore the old officer but answered all the same: 'Ninety first I believe.'
'What was the retention period?'
'There wasn't any. Because the criminal case has never been commenced. It was a commonplace suicide. So if you didn't shirk the lectures on the criminal law at school, you should know that it's not a crime in our country.'
'But hadn't anyone consider section one hundred and ten?'
Mikhalich measured him with the stern eyes.
'Of course we had, we studied each and every possible one, but rejected them all rather quickly. The version of somebody's causing her to commit suicide was the first one but the girl wrote everything herself. In the car we found her letters to the relatives, and one addressed to us.'
'And the cause?'
'The experts certified her insane at the time. As I remember among her letters there was a rather strange one.'
'What was in it?'
'Do you actually believe I remember all my cases in detail? It was thirty years ago!'
'Are there close relatives left?'
'Yes, her mother. The father died a couple of years ago.'
'Brothers or sisters?'
'I think she had a younger brother'
'Are there any records of the investigation remained?'
'There was nothing to investigate there. It was a clear suicide. However, if you are so interested in circumstances you can call on the case papers. I hate to disappoint you on a new place but our archive is in a state of a mess, the last inventory was at the eighties. So if you are lucky enough and the mice haven't gnawed the file, Petrovich will find it for you. He must remember the story; it was rather notorious for such a little town at the time.'
'Thanks!' Andrew flew out of the room.
Mikhalich watched him leave with amazement.
Ten minutes later Petrovich fumbled a little with his keys and opened an old door in the basement.
'What case do you need?'
'Oh, actually the case hasn't been open. I need the records of the suicide investigation. Is it possible to find any?'
'Records, huh? Hard to say. What year?'
'Ninety first. Mikhalich said you would remember. A girl shot herself in a car on the forest road.'
'Next to the car actually' corrected Petrovich in a minute's interval. 'I remember. Can't imagine why would somebody need it after so many years?'
'I'm just studying a town's history as a newcomer.'
'Well, it's not the best, but still the part of this town, yes.' He went to the far corner and started turning over the old files on the dusty shelves. 'Ninety-first... I think we'll find it. Of course, it should have been destroyed a long time ago, but there's just no one to do it. '
Finally, after ten long impatient minutes, Petrovich pulled out a thin dusty folder with a satisfied laughter 'Like I said, it's still there. I believe one can find here the cases since my grandfather's days!'
He looked over the dingy document case pleased with himself, and placed it in Andrew's eager hands.
'It's rather thin, because there was actually no investigation needed.' Said Petrovich 'A mysticism'.
'Mysticism? What do you mean by that?' asked Andrew.
'Well, it is. If the note she wrote before putting the gun to the head is to be trusted.'
Andrew brushed the thick layer of dust with his finger. Surprised he read the date on the corner 26th of April 1991. His birthday.
'I'll take it,' said Andrew, pointing at the dusty folder.
'All right.' shrugged his shoulders Petrovich, locking the wooden door. 'Go on study the history. '
Andrew returned to an empty office and sat himself at his desk. With the suddenly stiff fingers, he opened the old file and began to read.