Dielive [ENGLISH]

TWENTY ONE

I walked into Jason's house with Mr. Smith after a day of following his completely unimportant activities. He went to the laundry, ate Pad-Thai and bought a copy of The Last Greeting - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. A Sherlock Holmes novel. For what?

Jason wasn't home. I don't know where. I followed Mr. Smith and it turned out he went into Jason's room. He put down the novel he just bought. Wow. Surprising. I thought all this time he only bought gifts for cheap women.

Since Jason wasn't home, I didn't know what to do. However, rather than being unclear, I followed the annoying detective again.

He went into his room. This was the first time I had entered Mr. Smith's room. It was one hundred and eighty degrees different from Jason's neat and clean room. Here there were many things scattered everywhere. Papers were scattered on the table, beside it was an ashtray full of cigarette butts.

I entered, slowly and was surprised to find Jason's journal - THE SUSPECT on Mr. Smith's desk. Why is it here? This old man stole it? Wow. Jason must be furious.

Why did Mr. Smith take Jason's journal? Did he want to stop Jason's "illegal" investigation? Ah. It could be. From the beginning, he didn't support Jason doing that. Damn it. So this detective is really stuck and decided to close my case with a suicide assumption? He doesn't want to bother anymore and even takes Jason's hypothesis so that there is no continuation of this case.

Mr. Smith took off his coat and lifted his face. His eyebrows knitted together and moved quickly towards his desk. I stepped aside because his movements were like being chased by a tornado. He was restless, rummaging through the desk drawers.

"I'm sure it's here."

He pulled out his drawer and scattered its contents on the desk. Nothing. Nothing but useless papers and it was clearly not what he was looking for. He opened the glass cabinet behind him, rummaging through its contents, but there was nothing.

What was he looking for?

I found Phil's photo among the useless papers in his drawer. Above the photo was a small note: Nadya's stepfather, cause of depression, suspect 1.

So all this time Mr. Smith - the famous detective in Beverly suspected Phil too. I thought so! Phil was indeed suspect. Besides, he was the perpetrator. I just didn't know how to tell people.

The desk drawer fell and made a loud noise that made me flinch.

Oh my. What is he looking for?

"Where is that damn thing? Where is it!"

Mr. Smith was still frantically looking for something that seemed very important. I didn't know if he was working on another case besides mine. If he was looking for something important for a case he was handling - which might be mine, then I had to be involved in this. What was he looking for?

"If the evidence in Nadya's case is lost, I'll be dead!"

Oh, no! My evidence is gone.

Now I'm panicking too. Damn it. This detective is so careless! How could the evidence be lost?

I joined in looking, even though every time I touched something, I got electrocuted, but I didn't care. The papers flew by themselves because I touched them. Mr. Smith turned his head and was surprised.

I stopped. He was silent for a moment, but finally didn't care. He continued his activity looking for the item. Evidence of my case. Retty-Tetty. I also actually don't know what it looks like, because I had chewed it and it entered my body at that time, but there must be a description of my name - Nadya Anderson, evidence or whatever, but I didn't find anything.

My hand hurt so bad. The object had not been found. Mr. Smith was also desperate.

Someone must have stolen it. There's no way the object would suddenly disappear. Besides, why not just keep it in a safe place? A safe, for example? Or secure it at the police station. Why does it have to be kept here?

Wait. Wait. If it was really stolen, the thief must be someone who had a hand in this case. He wanted to get rid of the evidence!

I turned to Mr. Smith. He found something else, clearly not what he was looking for, but he was surprised to see the object. A belt iron that said: Miami.