The Silent's End [EDITING]

CHAPTER 7 editing

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: This chapter is not edited.

That's All!

- TSG

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MARCH 1825, EVENING

Donner stepped inside the headquarters and saw the superintendent, hands resting on his waist. Certainly, Phillip was waiting for him.

"Phillip," Donner said.

"I am sure I specifically ordered Hans to tell you to meet me right away," His eyes glaring at Donner. Donner tried his best to be composed but as soon as he heard the superintendent's straineous voice the pain in his temples triggered. He pressed his forehead wit his palm.

"I explicitly told him to tell you that I could not be that afternoon. I went somewhere," He replied, fingers now pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You want Bertram's case, Here!" Phillip slammed the file on the nearest table where Donner was leaning. Donner looked at the file and back at the superintendent, "And since you're handing his case -- remember what you asked last month?"

Donner said no answer. His stare was enough for the superintendent.

"Tommorrow. Do not be late," He threatened. The superintendent then left.

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Donner slammed the door, leaving the station. The streets were dreadfully cold, winds blew harshly, visible vapor formed as he exhaled heavily.

"Never let him knew about your intentions coming there. He is a powerful man. Be subtle. Never be blunt. Be gracious. Never be aloof."  

Donner recalled those words which the superintendent reminded him. He walked to and fro in front of the station, massaging his again, aching head.  Why now?  He thought. There were too many things he needed to do. Gracing a noble with his presence was at the end of the list. The third case was still fresh. He finally  might  have a lead, considering the anomaly of Bertram's companion last night, but yes, he needed to travel tomorrow and he needed a good reason for the visit too, without implying about the possible connection of a poweful man to a serial crime.

He looked at the entrance door of the station, hands on his waist and eyebrows knitted in frustration. With nothing left to do there, he finally decided to walk away and went to his house.

+       +       +       +       +

From the sounds of stray cats at the alley and the shouts from the couple living at the first buiding of the block, who always seemed to be having a fight each night he passed there, clearly he's now in his own neighborhood.

He grunted as he tried to open the rusted door of his house. After a hard push at the door, It finally gave way, powders of dust welcomed him as the door slammed at the wall. He closed the door, with less force than before, and went straight upstairs, not minding the thick dusts and cob webs accumulated on his first floor.

The second floor, without any walls as division nor a door for an entry way, considered as Donner's personal space, his bed room - the only part of the house where dust never accumulated the way it was on the first. The second floor, with it's spaciousness, would also act as a kitchen, dining, foyer and office, making visitors -- as rare as it would for Donner to have one, left wondering about what the first floor is of use to the busy inspector.

From the stairs, the bed was placed at the upper right corner of the room, leaning on the wall. His table was situated near the bed, in front of a round centered window. His trusty large pinning board occupied the left wall, white boxes with criminal reports were arranged at the foot of the board.