Chapter Twenty One - The Six Thatchers Part V

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"There are two people out of the six who bought the statues that haven't been burgled," I explain to John over the phone. "I think I know who the murderer is, and if I'm right, he hasn't found what he's looking for yet so he'll keep taking the statues back."

"Right," John says. "So you take one, I'll take the other?"

"Sounds good," I nod and give him the address of one of the last remaining statues. "Ring me as soon as you see him."

I watch the sun set from my stakeout beneath the stairs of Thomas Cutler's house.

Naturally, he was surprised when I told him he was a potential target for a break-in, but let me in after a little persuasion.

One of the things I find most frustrating about being this intelligent and using it like I do is that most of the people I come into contact with are prone to disbelieve me because of my age. I accept that not everyone can be as clever as I am at my age, but the time it takes to explain and prove my validity is time which could be saved on solving the crime. Dad may seem strange to people, but I envy his ability to get people to accept him without having to explain himself.

As seven o'clock comes and goes, I look down at my phone. The past four break-ins had occurred at around seven, so we can assume that this isn't the target. Not tonight.

I'm right. Just a few seconds after taking my phone out, it rings.

"Where?"

"Colne causeway," John pants and I hang up before he can say any more.

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