DK's Narrative
Deciding to do this privately, I overlapped the coat around my torso with a vow of silence as I did it and went to this neighborhood in Miami. My other Knight brothers have gone for mission's sake and I am going on my own. Nobody would know, even Phoebe, so I dressed adequately.
Hours later, I arrived at the spot – a decent neighborhood with good sewage in it and a bunch of kids. A lot of them. No doubt there was a campus nearby and the people are friendly and accommodating. Yes, it's a good neighborhood.
I am deciding to step up with the feelings I have for Phoebe – the persons she is – but about the person she was; I'm going to find out. I had used a big help with Google and a very distant police station, so I can get as much information without getting caught up by the police. The police won't be expected to understand my job in any case. So, I got this tidy neighborhood nonetheless taking note of Phoebe's memory snaps.
I knocked houses one by one asking whether they know someone by the name of Stella Wright or any of her close relatives. I had gone to five to seven houses before I spotted someone who told me he does. It's been the easiest as I had expected of myself.
The name was "Frank Wright", Stella's uncle according to a woman in floral. He's an engineer and he's living just a few blocks away and so I drove to his house and stopped just as I saw the wild shrubberies around the house, as the woman told me. The house was simple yet more of a man's that a woman's house. I rang the doorbell and someone instantly came out.
"Hi." I said. "I'm George Andrews." A random old-fashioned name I recalled.
"Yes?" The nanny asked.
"Is this the home of Frank Wright."
"Yes, this is. Come in. What is this about?" She reckoned I had some important matter from the manner I dressed for the occasion.
"I am Detective George Andrews. I want to talk to Frank."
"Oh. He's inside." Then she excused me.
I found Frank Wright by the garden. He's too old. He was busy planting a potato just around his floor of dirt. As I approached him, he took his glasses on and came to remove one of his working gloves then looked at me skeptically.
"I am Detective George Andrews. Excuse me, but do you have a little time, I am documenting a case about the Hans Vaughn cruiser. I was told that you were the relative of Stella Wright."
"Oh, yes, she's my sweet niece! A poor thing which to start the conversation. How can I help?"
"I just wanted to know details about her and her death. I am reinvestigating cases related to the incident."
"Oh, so you're not exactly working for her case or are you?"
"Not exactly. But knowing her case might give me a closer look at some cases so if you don't mind?"
"Well, I see, why haven't you come in behalf of her family's case, er? Why only niece's?"
"I'm sorry. I meant her and of course, her family. A few questions, I suppose?"
"Okay. Can I have a second?" He said looking for something.
"Sure. Sure." I nodded.
Minutes later, I was offered a seat and I was face to face with the old man.
"What is it again? Your name?"
"It is Detective George Andrews, Sir."
"Fine. So you want to know what happened with her family?"
I nodded. "Yes. And how do you know them or what are they like."
"You see, they died almost two years ago when the Hans Vaughn cruiser sank feet down the sea. It was terrible and there's nothing I can say but that it's terrible. It was a luxury cruiser and the family was there for a vacation which they actually won in a fund-raising ticket sale. They were glad that they did so they went and a few days later, we're just dreadful to hear about the news that they're all dead. Stella's body was missing." He coughed. "They're a perfect family. Stella works as a writer and she's into writing books. She's a literature graduate while her mom was a good cook. I missed her raspberry pie. Oh god, I love her. The father, Anthony Wright, was good man . . . a really good man. He owns the hardware shop just a few-minute drive away from here but now, see, it's been sold and the shop was gone.
T'was even horrible to imagine that there was a bombing that had occurred inside the cruiser as the news said but some said it was an accident but I insist and I have to believe there was really a bombing that had happened in there. My wife Martha was not convinced though."
I listened to the old man's words and I imagined Stella as she is now. She's not gonna be happy with this news. I am not happy with this news. She is alone now. I could imagine how her life would be if she would insist this lonely one. She is safe with us now. Nevertheless, in any way, I found sympathy in the old man's story.
"Good for you to have found me, Mister. I am his only uncle left!" He said proudly after narrating.
"If we were to talk more about Stella. Well, she's sweet. She's beautiful. She's talented. She's quick-witted. What else is it, Mister?"
"Had Stella had any brothers or sisters?"
"No." The old man told me quickly.
***
After the hours of conversation, I bid my farewell to Mr. Wright, who is a good man. He told me the Wrights' house was left to the care of Stella's great grandmother. She is blind and lives now with a nanny. Mr. Wright told me to come visit her but I told him our meeting was more than enough and that I'm going to be busy paying a visit to other families of the victims and I lied about it.
I headed towards the house as per instruction and found yet another adorable house. It was evening when I arrived at The Wrights house, which was well-lit and fairly wide. Mostly was made of wood and I had an impression like it was supposed to be a beach house. It was white in entirety and neatly painted. Surprisingly, the house continued to be taken care of as it appeared to me from a distance though the ownership was entirely passed. Fences were properly dug deep into the ground with short grasses sprouting around them.
I peeked through the window a few yards away from me and I could sense a presence. I cheated by using my superior senses and I found movements that were very slow. I traced them until I got the spot to be able to view the figure which turned out to be Stella's great grandmother and she was with her nurse. I approached the house about to start to actually peek in which I did.
She was very old and her skin was sagging off her bones. They were like snake skin and her face was sharper than I had expected old women to be. Her features were not soft at all but they were not complete with her blurry white eyes that see through the objects. Her hands collapsed and folded over and around her walking stick as her nurse whispered to her. I am not used to seeing old people. Alexia was not old but ancient. She is immortal and I don't really imagine myself seeing her this way. She doesn't grow old and her actions don't but only her words. Beyond my control, I started to recollect memories from my childhood as I watched the two leave the main room.
A different movement startled me though. Someone was moving at a quick phase though still normal. I hid myself from anyone's view and waited for the distant movement to show its identity. It was coming from behind me and it was moving towards the direction of the house.
It was a man. With a leather jacket he flipped away against the wind, he ran across the road and it went towards me. I ran away from the proximity of the house even before it came to notice my face. I viewed him from among the bushes on the fences and beside the house by which I hid from his view. He was observant and he took time to look at the house – the Wrights house. Who this guy might be?
He was simply a nobody so I stood up and never really cared if he saw me and went to look for my car. He came to walk into the house and met my shadow so he looked back and noticed my coat. He was quite surprised but he continued on. I looked at his face and we stared at each other for a moment and before another minute was up, I was going for my car, which the guy noticed beforehand. What do I say, he's pretty vigilant. I guessed he might be an athlete.
His hair was grey, the color of ash.
***