The hotel was a big, ancient and wonderful castle. On the first day we decided  to visit the lake by boat. I was very scared at the idea, but I convinced myself to go. Despite my expectations, the trip was very nice and we didn’t see strange things such as… well… monsters, for example?

That night, I was admiring the beautiful landscape at the window alone in my room. Suddenly, I heard a cry. I couldn’t comprehend what it was: it was neither human-ish nor animal-ish. I got so scared that I couldn’t move anymore. 

Then, I heard some strange feet noises, as someone was reaching me. I turned around and I saw my father with an evil smile on his face, and a knife on his hand. He said “I caught you”, and then he moved the knife towards me. I screamed, and I closed my eyes. All round me became strangely dark. I was still breathing, though.

Then I realised it was just a nightmare. Luckily.

- She was a beautiful and clever girl, my judges! Oh, you don’t know how much I was...I am proud of her- he desperately covers his old and pale face - I worked as a Sous-Chef for a long time and, when I returned tired at home, I found her cheerful smile, her eyes full of affection that silently said to me “Welcome home, daddy”. In moments like that I understood I was incredibly lucky, because there was such a strong and clever girl with me. - 

- And now?! Now I’m unemployed, without money, without home and without...her smile!- he started crying convulsively - Everyday I’m more and more convinced I didn’t deserve her, my dear judges; I haven’t been a real father for her, I always left her alone: you know, I stayed at the restaurant all day- he interrupts himself to take a profound breath, because he is talking fast and sometimes sobbing like an excellent actor - ...and, in spite of that, she grew perfectly, I assure you; I r-really, really don’t comprehend why she decided to commit suicide- he keeps fixing his hands or the wooden table in front of him - I don’t comprehend, I don’t comprehend - he repeats more to himself than to the judges - so smart, so clever, so generous -.

A middle-aged woman, with a sad and compassionate smile on her face, stands up and starts walking around the tribunal, as if she is looking for the right words, suddenly she stops and says - Father’s love can’t lie, it wins everything- she looks at the man with a  proud attitude, because she strongly believes in the importance and intelligence of her speech. 

In the meanwhile, the man’s eyes seems empty and inexpressive, however, he continues smiling, lost in his thoughts. Someone, who didn’t hear the speech before, would find him a bit creepy and mysterious; despite that, after the father’s monologue, the judges are sure about his innocence. In this moment, what they don’t know is that a beautiful and clever voice is whispering into his weird mind - You love me so much, right daddy? So much that you keep my favourite white dress...but, oh!, it’s all covered by MY beautiful and clever blood, (do you) see it? Wha-what does it happen to it? - the voice is intentionally childish and annoying - Don’t worry, don’t worry, my dear - it adds, laughing - the judges are blinded by your pure innocence and also you must convince yourself, because you didn’t kill me, did you? You aren’t a pusher, are you? I don’t know anything, no no, and I will never know anything. You only are a failure without money with which you should repay all the debts and the people you tried to deceive, without enough alcohol to forgot your sins and your uselessness and obviously without your beautiful and clever daughter - 

The man, who has never been a father, but a human whose economic interests overcome his humanity, was obsessed (so much that he couldn’t neither sleep) by the easy, fast and crazy idea that, day after day, was growing into his mind: fear? obsession? sin? Everything’d have been vanished with a simple and fatal choice: father or monster, who did he want to be? - You are too clever, you knew everything and early all the people will know...why are you like that? Why were you born? If you had been only a bit stupid, nothing of that would have happened, because I love you, my dear, you know -. 

The voice stays in silence; now he is alone with the burden of his monstrosity, he feels so gross that he can’t do anything except hysterically laughing and saying - I don’t deserve you, my dear - and finally he adds -Poor and blind judges, I confess -.        

There was nobody, only me and that growing feeling of anxiety. I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t justified, that 9^th Avenue was the same street I walked that morning, when I went to Charlotte’s house, but it was useless. My eyes were running from side to side to recognize every minimal movement, but a black cloud covered the moon, so everything was drowned in the darkness. 

For a moment it was impossible to see anything, but a lightning shown me the street again and, with it,  a tall figure. He was a man, I was sure about it. He was wearing a long black coat and the hair was dark as well. But as the lightning passed I was blind again, so I wasn’t able to see anything else about him.

That wasn’t my problem, since  what was only a feeling began to be pure dread. I remembered the newspapers and the frightening news about a killer who murdered five young women and as soon as I thought that I started walking faster, almost running. My mind was thinking of all the terrible things that happened to those girls and the more I thought about it, the more my breath accelerated until I had to stop to take a breath. I looked around trying to figure out if the man was still there or not. I calmed down a bit, maybe it was my imagination or maybe he was only someone who was coming back home as me. My heart slowed down and my breath was normal as before. I was about to start walking when I felt something sharp and colder than the rain on my neck. I swallowed.

“You all run, but never fast enough” a warm voice whispered behind me.

My eyes opened  wide and a strangled sound came from my lips. The knife made his way through my soft flesh and the world began to darken.

My dad told me it was one of my grandfather's residences; I knew my ancestors were quite rich, but I would have never thought that much. 

After a delicious dinner I decided to go to bed, I wanted to be rested for the day after, I would have gone on exploration in the grounds around the castle. Once I arrived in my room, I got really scared. There was a woman in the room! But before I could scream, she humbly explained to me that she was the cleaning woman. I was really curious about the castle's history and that kind woman was pleased to answer my questions. I found out that the structure was built in the XVIII century, it has been my family's property since it was livable. 

She said me that nobody wanted to buy the castle, as it happened for the other residences of my grandfather. I couldn't believe that everyone in the cities around thought that the castle was haunted. 

The cleaning woman didn't want to go ahead with the story, but I persuaded her. She said that, in addition to the fact that the castle was haunted, my family had been cursed. Everyone with my blood would have gone crazy in that building, as it happened to my grandfather and his ancestors. 

I wasn't really scared; how could ghosts, spells and curses be real? I thanked the old woman and she went out after warning me to be careful. I was tired, it didn't take me too long to fall asleep. 

In the middle of the night I heard some strange noises, I opened my eyes and I saw a figure who was staring at me. I tried to scream but his hand covered my mouth. 

I was truly scared before I understood it was my dad. 

<<What's up, Dad?>> I said, while I was shaking.

<<I need you to see something, follow me.>> 

<<Where are we going?>> I was following my dad out of the castle, I had a lot of questions but it seemed like he wasn't even listening to me. We arrived to a shore of a lake, it was as marvelous as scary. 

<<You don't know the story, do you?>> He asked me after some minutes of silence, while he was fumbling with some ropes.

<<What are you talking about?>> 

<<The curse>> he answered shaking.

<<Yes, I know it, the cleaning woman told me. Dad what are you doing?>> I was really anxious and confused.

<<The cleaning woman? We don't have one!>> he exclaimed, I didn't know what to answer.

<<I'm so sorry, darling. I need to do this>> he said crying. He tied his wrist to mine. What was happening? Was I dreaming?

<<We need to stop this, we need to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of all. We can't let this bloody, crazy and cursed offspring continue.>> he was sobbing <<I'm really sorry, but we need to do so.>>

He pulled a gun out of his pocket . I screamed, yet nobody could help me.

<<Help! What are you doing? Stop!!!>> I tried to hit him but the bullet was faster than my fist. 

The dead body of my dad fell into the deep water and I followed him, pulled by the rope closed around my wrist.

My screams were swallowed up by the lake.

Did I have to blame my blood? 

Was I really drowning or was I dreaming?

I couldn't know.

I took all my courage and went to the place where the sound was, the kitchen.

Someone was there, but who? The lights were off.

My heart was beating so fast and loudly, I went on tiptoe near them, trembling so much.

That person turned all of a sudden, smiling at me, they knew that someone was looking at them, I saw their face, it was my father.

I took a sigh of relief, but at the same time I thought why he was there and why he had a knife in his hand. I couldn't finish my thoughts that he started running after me. He went crazy.

I tried to call him, perhaps he was only joking. He didn't reply.

I started running to my room and locked the door.

My dad was trying to open it, the fear grew inside me. What to do?

It was a dark night of October , my family and I were on holiday in a little dreary village in the mountain, we were staying in a scary hotel on the top of a ravine because it was the only left.

The second evening that we were there , my sister and I decided to go outside to look at the stars because  there were no clouds, while we were walking a bit far away from the hotel the wind started to blow very hard and the whole sky was covered by a lot of clouds.

My sister started being afraid so she persuaded me to come back to the hotel and while we were returning we heard some howls , and there, right in front of us, there were three wolves!

I was immediately petrified by fear and my sister screamed very loud , after a few seconds we started running through the wood to the lake, I was so scared that I couldn’t even see where I was going because my eyes were full of tears.

After the fastest run of my life we arrived at the lake and I screamed to my sister to jump in it even if it was very cold, there the wolves couldn’t find us.

We stayed in the lake for almost an hour and I couldn’t feel my legs that were frozen , I kept looking at my sister but I was feeling that I couldn’t breath easily , I started going down and seeing the water darker and darker , I stopped feeling myself cold , I stopped feeling at all. 

The moon was hanging high in the dark sky and the rain was pouring down. 

While I was walking home the moon distracted me so much that I forgot to look where I was going. I tripped over an old rotten log and cut my knee. But my eye weren’t looking at the newly fresh cut wound on my leg, my attention was caught on looking at a very old ruined house. Just in front of my eyes there was an old sign. The words “enter at your very own risk” looked as if they had been written in blood. A mixture of curiosity ad anxiety convinced me to enter the house. There was a huge and scary wooden door, as I opened it a little shiver went down my spine, my mind was telling me “Don’t enter, don’t do it” but I decided to go on.

Just walked through the door I heard a strange noise coming from upstairs. I had to explore.

I started to climb up the old stairs. Every time I touched a step it squeaked and made me much more scared. Finally I arrived at the top and I noticed that a strange light was coming from the door just in front of me. I turned the ice cold handle and opened the door, then someone unknown pushed me inside the room. I started screaming, then I turned around to see who had been. In front of me there was a horrifying man, he was two meters tall, his face was pale, and his eyes red as the blood. He pulled out a knife and with a terrifying smile said:

“I warned you not to enter”. I managed to open the door and I started running. I ran as fast as I could, I got out of that house but  because of the heavy rain I could see nothing. I was trying to see where to go but the steps of the men were ever closer and the last thing that I heard was:
 “No one here gets out alive.”

I got up trying to be as silent as possible and slowly walked towards the door. Just before leaving my room I tried to look outside but everything was dark, the only things I could see were the shapes of the pieces of furniture.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of someone screaming, and then running with heavy steps. Then, it just stopped. I wanted to help my mother, but I couldn’t bring myself to enter her room, I was stuck because of the fear.

Then, I finally found the courage to move and grabbed my tennis racket to hit the intruder, because I didn’t own any other weapon. 

I ran towards the room as fast as I could, when a cold hand curled around my arm and pulled me in the kitchen. I was shivering, scared that the intruder had found me, but I soon realized that it was my mother, who was extremely pale and visibly scared. She whispered that someone had tried to choke her while she was asleep and that she had fought back, managing to hit him in the head with the lamp on the bedside table. He had then fainted and she ran away to hide and call the police.

I was so relieved that she wasn’t hurt! We called for help right away but we couldn’t stay calm knowing that somebody who tried to attack us was in our house. We held our hands and entered her bedroom together to check that that man was actually dead.

But, to our surprise, nobody was  in the room and the window was wide open. The man had left.

They started to run but steps seemed to be more near; finally Lisa and Jane arrived at home but Jane, a lot afraid, couln't put the key in the lock, they looked behind them: a man with a knife was going to kill them! 

But… the phone rang and Lisa waked up all of a sudden in her bed.

The end.
Simone

It was a Friday morning when Bruce’s phone rang, the sixth victim, in an hotel in the 40th street, Bruce put on his clothes and went to the crime scene, and for his happiness  this time there was a track, a world  written by the victim, “a name, a damned name” thought O’Conner, it seemed the name Olivia, “a woman? How could a woman stab such a stout man?” it seemed impossible to his  eyes… Anyway O’Conner now had a trail and intended to follow it, he started searching on the databases the name Olivia, but he couldn’t found anything, only an Oliver Twik, so he decided to go to his mother house to ask for him. When he arrived in Miami, where the   Oliver’s  mother lived, she told him that she hadn’t known anything about her son for years since he left to go to New York to build a new life. After few other questions, Bruce left without anything important, he had only discovered that Oliver had left because of his father’s mistreatment because he was gay, and that Oliver’s father died in a car crash two years ago.

Three days after Bruce found a friend of Oliver, a woman called Lycia, that told him that she had seen Oliver the last time four months ago in a cafè and that he told her that he probably wanted to change his gender… Bruce started thinking “and if Oliver is now Olivia? But why he killed all this men? What they have in common?”, by chance or lucky, one of his colleagues, Stuart, brought him another track, from the chronology of the phones of all the victims they have found a number in common and a chat whit this number to meet and have a sexual meeting, even if they were all married men. Then O’Conner decided to write to this number from his phone and ask her for a meeting, two hours after she answered with some questions : “Are you married? Are you searching for violent sexual practices? Have you ever hurt one of you family member? As you know all these things are requested for our meeting”, Bruce, a bit confused lied and said yes, so the stranger told him an hour and a place and to come to this hotel alone. The team immediately thought of a plan: Bruce would go alone with a microphone on and the other agents would settle in the neighboring rooms and at the signal they would intervene. In order to follow the plan O’Conner Wednesday went to the hotel alone and when he arrived to his room he found a woman , very stout, in a sexy dress with a black Venetian mask on, she advanced towards him and started to take his clothes off, after they lied in bed , in a split second , she pulled out form a band around her thigh under her dress a knife and tried to kill O’Conner, he immediately gave the signal and fought against the woman until his colleagues arrived and caught her.                                                                                                                                                    It was done, O’Conner found in her purse the note with the praying mantis on and she, or better an old him, said that he was mistreated from his father in his childhood, and that his father also betrayed his mother and hurt her, so he decided to kill him with a fake car crash and after his change of gender he decided to find and kill all the men like his father to free all the wives and the children who were forced to suffer what he had suffered without  being able to defend themselves.  

“Mori private investigations” office, Tokyo, 05/15/2020.

Suddenly the door opened up and a firm voice said: “We have a new case to solve, Kudo”.

Conan, Ran and Kogoro turned around: it was Heiji, accompanied by Osaka police’s inspector. Conan cringed, fearing the worst.

“What the hell…?!” exclaimed together Ran and Kogoro.

“Er… I mean… We have a new case to solve, let’s act ya-kudo (with brio)”.

Conan rolled his eyes: Heiji was always the same, he risked to reveal his true identity, but managed to make up at the last.

“Nevertheless… What’s the matter?” asked Kogoro.

The inspector took the floor: “I guess you all know Kazuhiko Nakamura, the famous crime novelist”. They nodded. “Well, you know, when he was teaching at the high school, one of his pupils was Hirokazu Tsugamoto, a serial killer broken out of jail some days ago. A witness affirms he has spotted him near Nakamura’s residence, so that we sent two guards in order to watch over his flat. But yesterday, the guards found him dead, hanged. All the windows and the door were locked from the inside.”

“So he committed suicide?” Kogoro asked.

“At first, we thought so,” went on the inspector “but there were two things wrong: the victim’s feet were strangely vertical, as he was on tiptoe, but, above all, the chair found under the corpse was too low to reach the rope”

“So, that means…” Kogoro said.

“Someone managed somehow to break into Nakamura’s flat, then he strangled him, and eventually staged the suicide” Heiji interrupted him. “We suspected of the serial killer, but he had been arrested in Tokyo before the murder happened. Therefore, we must investigate to find out who is guilty.”

Without further delay, they went to Osaka, to the novelist’s residence.

The flat was clean and tidy, but Conan noticed immediately some pencil chips just under the rope, and Heiji, gone to the kitchen, found a spilled trash can and a vacuum cleaner robot near it.

“That’s so strange… But…Oh!”. Conan, arrived in the meantime in the kitchen, checked the can, and found other pencil chips inside it. Then he asked to a guard man Nakamura’s height, and he was answered that the novelist was tall more or less as Heiji.

Conan sneered. He had understood all. He asked Heiji to place the can just under the rope and to get on it. Heiji did it and noticed that, if he got on tiptoe, the rope was exactly at the level of his neck. Then the young detective  asked his colleague to get off the can and spill it, and switched on the robot, which, following the last path stored, pulled the can to the kitchen.

They reported to the others what they had seen, and they agreed that the novelist committed suicide. Therefore, there was another mystery to solve: why did Nakamura staged his death in order to make it seem a murder? On whom did he want to place the blame? The only way to find it out was to know more about his private life, so they decided to ask his neighbours.

On the stairs, they ran into Hikaru Narazaki, a energetic and tattletale woman, who revealed an interesting background to Nakamura’s life: it seemed that the novelist, many years ago, had ravished the daughter of another tenant of that residence, the shareholder Keiichi Morimoto, who was hated by everyone for his cheats.

Exactly while they were talking, the lift activated, and, from the window of the lift door, they saw Morimoto himself.

“Oh, here he is. Speak of the Devil…”

Mrs. Narazaki hadn’t finished to speak yet, when they all noticed that Morimoto had put a gun to his hand, and disappeared out of their sight after shooting himself.

Arrived in a hurry upstairs, where the lift stopped, to wait for them there were the corpse and big spry graffiti written on the lift door: sayonara (farewell).

 Kogoro and the inspector agreed it was a suicide, but Conan and Heiji didn’t think so: in fact, there were some wrong details.

First of all, the lift camera was obscured by the spray. The residence keeper affirmed that the last footage showed someone’s right hand spraying on the camera. But Morimoto was left-handed, in fact he held the gun on his left hand. He couldn’t write sayonara with the right hand. Lastly, the watch on the victim’s wrist was still, although it was a self-winding model: someone had put it on the corpse’s wrist after killing him.

Since the guards confirmed that nobody hadn’t exited from the residence, the murderer must be at his flat. As well as Nakamura, Narazaki and Morimoto, three other people lived in the residence: worker Bajiru Ocha, cartoonist Ayumi Muzukashii and special effects artist Shogo Iwai.

All of them were involved in Morimoto’s shares. The shareholder gifted his customers of a self-winding watch like the one that was found on his wrist. It seemed that all of them were cheated by him, so they had a motive.

Another thing to find out was how the murderer gave the appearance that Morimoto had killed himself.

They had been thinking for half an hour, without finding a solution, until Kogoro asked: “Shall we phone Kudo? These two brats don’t make one!

“Two… Don’t make one… I got it!” Conan sneered again. He had found the guilty. But he had to prove it.

As usual, he shot a soporific needle to Kogoro and, with his modulator-bowtie, imitating his voice, he started his reconstruction:

“Two don’t make one… This is the key of the case. Well, since the graffiti sayonara occupies large part of the window, it’s hard to distinguish what’s over the glass. Ran, could you please attach your tablet to the glass and play a video?” Ran did it, and the video seemed actual, even though the tablet occupied half of the glass. “You see, the graffiti makes easy to hide the tablet edges, so that what you see seems real. It was enough to create a video representing Morimoto killing himself with two tablets and showing it us at the right moment, in order to make us think he committed suicide. But actually, the shareholder was already dead, and the murderer had just to act his performance… Or rather… HER performance. Right, Mrs. Muzukashii? Who better than a cartoonist owns two tablets and is able to do such an accurate video? Besides, you are the only customer of Morimoto who doesn’t hold his watch. That’s because you, being right-handed, held it on your right wrist, and, after shooting to him, it contained gunshot residue, so you had to get rid of it, and what’s better than switch it with Morimoto’s? I’m sure that, if we frisk your flat, we’ll found his watch.”

Conan’s words were followed by a minute of total silence.Then she confessed:

“I didn’t do it for my shares. They weren’t too bad. I killed him for Nakamura. He wasn’t just my master, my mentor… I… I… I loved him… I couldn’t accept his suicide because of that old geezer who blackmailed him because of his daughter’s ravish. A few days ago, before his suicide, he gifted me of an autograph copy of his last novel. At page 15 of chapter 5, there were three letters highlighted: fu, ku and shu… Fukushu (revenge)… I immediately got it. On 15 May 2005 he, got drunk, ravished Morimoto’s daughter. Exactly 15 years ago. He was asking me to avenge him. He had planned all details: often he said me that he would have brought him to Hell. And I’m proud because I achieved his last wish.

“Go” he says with a hard look “Staying here won’t help neither us nor you. Take some coffee, sleep if you want, but don’t remain here”

My first thought is to answer that I cannot leave her here, all alone even in her death, but another thing comes to my mind. Although I told everything about the situation before the murder with that mysterious stalker who was after her, they can’t find him. I, as Vivian, know who the killer is. I don’t know his name or his features, but I have the certainty that we have met before. He knew too well our habits or even our reactions. I go out from the five stars hotel and I take my car. I try to think again about all the hints that he let behind him and I try to remember the acquaintances or friends that we and Vivian had in common.

Her assistant, Claire. She hasn’t any motives to kill her client. Vivian didn’t fire her or anything else. That girl has just married and now she’s on her honey moon in another State. She’s not the one who I am searching.

Bryan, her colleague. He’s an actor as well and even if he was in competition with Vivian for many thing he couldn’t kill a fly.  Not him.

Ambrosse, another actor. He’s different. That light in his eyes has never reassured me. I remember his controlled manners, so cold that for a moment I thought he was my reflection. I've connected. The only one that he tolerated was Vivian. He wasn’t rude as with everyone else. He has also precedents with sexual harassment. Maybe he made his advances and she refused him. He lost control and in that terrible frame he killed her.

My rage grows again when I press the accelerator. I know where he’s staying. The Excelsior Hotel is not so far and I reach it in ten minutes. I enter asking if he is in his room or around.

“Sorry, but he left yesterday morning”

I repeat his name. Maybe she has made a mistake, but no. Ambrosse Sullivan left yesterday at 10 o’clock. No mistake. I call him.

“Yes?” he answers with an annoyed voice.

“Vivian has been killed”

“I can read articles. Tell me things I don’t know”

“I thought it was you”

“Really?” he laughs “The gift of ubiquity is not granted to everyone”

“It was someone that knows me, you, Vivian… It must be”

“It’s more probable it was Bryan. Much more probable”

He cuts the line. Bryan? Impossible. He’s afraid of blood and knives. But I remember something. The nervousness I felt between him and Vivian, something beyond the simple rivalry. Why not try? I drive to the place where Bryan Strafford is staying and this time I have found someone. Someone dead, again. But it isn’t a murder. It’s a suicide. There is a piece of paper on the table.

“My life has come to an end. I lost everything because of your slanders, Vivian. You told everyone I was a drug addict, even a pedophile. The world  blamed me because of you. Now you are dead, as well as me”

“ Hello, hello is anybody there?”

“ Inspector Wilson, police department” replied the inspector

“ Hurry up, there has been a murder in my house”

“Just stay calm I’ll be there as soon as possible”

The inspector wrote all the information about where the house was located, took one last sip of coffee, threw down his overcoat and went through the door. It had stopped raining but in its place there was a thick grey fog. The inspector got in the car and quickly drove to the women’s house, as he arrived he walked to the door, and pressed the doorbell. There was the sound of footsteps, and then a women with the face marked by pain opened the door.

“Oh hello inspector, I was waiting for you, please come in”

Mr Wilson walked inside and was immediately impressed by the majesty of the house, but then the women interrupted his thoughts.

“The murder was committed in the study, which is the second room one the left”

“Okay, thank you”

The inspector pushed the door of the study and was horrified by the view, a pool of blood lay underneath the man. Near the man there was a book covered in blood, Mr Wilson inspected it, he thought that maybe he could see finger marks. He walked up over the body and looked at it really closely until he realized that there was a bullet wound.

While Mr Wilson continued to inspect the room the woman walked inside. The inspector asked her if she had any suspicions. The women replied that she didn’t know how it was possible that someone had killed her husband, he was so loved in the village that she couldn’t believe at her eyes. Before Mr Wilson went back to the police station, the woman advised her to talk to his husband’s brother Harry, because maybe he could tell him something useful for the investigation.

The next day Mr Wilson decided to go to visit Harry Smith, he drove straight to his house. The house was a bit old, its paint was faded with time and a window was broken. The inspector knocked at the door when a trembling voice coming from inside the house asked:

“ Who is it?”

“ I’m the inspector Wilson, I have to ask you some questions” replied the inspector

“Oh okay come in”

Mr Wilson entered in the house and started talking to Mr Smith, he asked him some questions about his brother and he discovered that they had some common business. The inspector thought that the attitude of the man  was really strange, he seemed really upset for the death of his brother but at the same time at every question he seemed to be more and more nervous, he thought he was hiding something. After the meeting with Mr Smith, the inspector decided to go back to the women’s house, as he arrived the women told Mr Wilson that she had found a preliminary agreement to sell the land the brothers had in common, dating to the day of the murder. She also told him that her husband had decided to refuse the offer and then he phoned his brothers and they started arguing. The inspector realized that Harry Smith was involved in the death of his brother and now they had to make him confess. Mr Wilson ordered the women to invite Mr Smith at her house, then he decided to put a hidden microphone inside it, so just in case Mr Smith confessed he would arrested him.

Mr Smith came quickly to his sister in low’s house. She started accusing him of the death of her husband and he started shouting that he was innocent until he couldn't take it anymore. He admitted that he had killed his brother because he had hated him for his entire life since they where children, his brother had always been the one loved by anyone with all the luck, while he had always remained in the shadows. Mr Wilson entered in the house and handcuffed Mr Smith.

 

Sir William would have lived that boring day as always he did: he’d have woken up late, he’d have spent the breakfast time staring at the landscape of a foggy London, he’d have looked for the locomotive and he’d have smoken the wooden pipe he always took in the pocket of his black redingote, then he’d have read the journal and played chess with one of the many unknown and opportunistic people who visited him; during the entire day, he’d have shown to those visitors a quiet and cheerful face, a tender and caring voice, but he wouldn’t have hidden some sleepy and indifferent eyes, as he started being bored - and that happened suddenly and frequently -; he’d have kept lying on the big couch, lost in the consciousness of his useless existence, despite the freedom of a big richness, so that, before the abundant dinner, he’d would have filled that terrifying solitude with some chalices of prestigious wine; he’d have continued spending that nasty and bitter life, that he neither wanted to live, unless, in that day of November 1875, the big chimney, in the living room, had been blocked and it had to be repaired by a chimney sweeper. 

That morning, his wife, a gentle and elegant noblewoman, welcomed a twelve-years-old child in their house. He was thin and all dirty of cinders; he wore a grey flat hat and large and tore dungarees; his feet were naked, while he was walking unstable, due to the weight of the working bag. That pragmatic little chimney sweeper started immediately working with a small brush in the living room and meeting Sir William became inevitable. 

In spite of a poor condition, in spite of the burden of an unconscious exploitation, the child shew a particular and rare innocence and his big blue eyes sparkled like precious gems in front of  an unknown world - Sir William noticed that immediately. He was speechless, but he always smiled and he ran around, working, working, working, without never taking a rest. He loved his work and his cruel life, because he didn’t see any alternatives to that situation, he thought things need to be like that and never different, a better condition for him, except being a chimney sweeper, didn’t exist, so that, in his complete and pure ignorance, he had a jocund vitality. 

Sitting towards the chimney, Sir William stared at the child without speaking: he had everything, nevertheless, what was that feeling of being incomplete, of having already spent his life, his ephemeral childhood? He looked at the child, then to himself, while he was lying on the couch with wine, money and power, and he considered absurd that a dirty chimney sweeper, whose name was Tom, could be happier than him. He didn’t want to understand and a weird feeling of dissatisfaction grew more and more, until it became a profound torment.  

He saw in Tom the disillusion of a childhood he had wasted and, then, at the age of fifty-eight,  he couldn’t have it back anymore, he saw a dead innocence, an annoying desire of life which he envied so much. That envy grew and ate the little humanity that William conserved inside his soul. William wanted his happiness, his pleasure, his love for the poor, but special existence, but  he knew that his opportunity had already gone, he’d have been past and he felt that Death was upon his  shoulder. I don’t want to die, oh! Poor me! My only desire is having more time, the same time Tom has, more time, please, more time! he prayed a god in which he had never believed. It was that obsessive desire of time that killed definitely his remained existence; his feeling of bore was accompanied by a total and sudden nullification of his feelings, with which he could apathetically stare at Tom, who was suffocating towards him owing to stool and dust, without helping him. Tom became pale and started crying, he wanted to scream, therefore, he couldn’t breath, he grasped convulsively the air toward Sir William. His desperate eyes said I have time! I want to live!, but that young and flowered blow of life, that hopeful existence  concluded and no one would have known his premature death except the criminal whose hands weren’t dirty of blood, but his cold indifference for a tiny life, he didn’t care at all, was a terrible weapon and a terrible crime.
Tom’s eyes didn’t sparkle anymore.  

B: Why do you think so?

A: Well, first of all we found him with a gun in his hand...

B: We are not here to joke around... Be serious...

A: Ok, we also asked the neighbours some questions, they said that he was depressed for a long time, and they seem to not remember the last time they saw him…There's no reason for someone to kill him, so we deduced that it is a suicide...

B: Yes, yes, I can see your point, but something seems wrong...

A: We already checked for a possible intrusion, but none of the locks or windows has been broken. 

B: I understand, but one of the neighbours said something about seeing someone sneaking out from the victim's door just after the shot... It's not something that you can put aside...

A: Just as we said before no one broke into his house, unless they were someone he knew...

B: Perhaps, but who? 

A: We don't know yet.

B: We are here to find it, that’s our job.

A: Do some researches about what he did in these days.

B: Let’s take the proofs and analyse them to find some clues.

A: A part from the gun, we noticed that he took some pills in order to calm himself down, we think...

B: No, it doesn't make any sense. What else?

A: Well, we checked the phone records, we saw that he called this number several times.

B: So, what are you waiting for? Call it! 

 

C: Hello, who is speaking?

B: Good afternoon, I'm an agent from the FBI, last night there was a suicide, the victim called this number and...

C: What? No! Impossible! My son! How can this be real?!?

B: We are very sorry Ma'am, please calm down… Can we meet? We need to ask you some questions about your son. I know that it's hard to bear... But, try to... We need your collaboration in order to solve this case.

[…]  

C: Yes... Well, it's been a month since my son lost his job, he called me to say this, and day by day, he started to be more pessimistic about his life and about the fact that he couldn't find a new job. I tried to help him, to give hope, saying that I would support him, but he didn’t want, he said that he would find a solution, no matter what… I wasn’t sure about what he was thinking, he was a mystery for me, but to think that he committed a suicide all of a sudden… No! He couldn’t, he is not like that… 

B: We also think so… I have to ask you if perhaps there’s someone who had a reason to do this.

C: I don’t know, he didn’t mention anyone… no wait, how was she called… 

B: Who is she?

C: She was one of his ex-colleagues, she is the only one who kept in touch with my son even after he lost his job, he said that she was so kind with him, I don’t think she is the one you are searching for. 

B: We can’t say that for certain. Thank you for your collaboration, we will solve this case for sure, no matter what. 

[…]

B: Please, contact her and bring her to me. 

A: Yes, I’ll go at her work place.

B: Thank you, just ask her for some information about him.

[…]

A: Hello, I’m searching for a certain Jenny.

J: Yes, it’s me. How can I help you?

Xhesika Desari