Acess Code for Murder

Meet Your Neighbors

I bet you're expecting a kickass book after that prologue, full of action and just generally well-written chapters. Well, you'll be the judge of that. I'm over here breaking the fourth wall just to tell you I've become the instrument of Law, not the one of Justice.

Never confuse those two... Justice is a morality, and Law is a rule. For example, in this case, I actually wouldn't send the killer to jail. I guess I relate to him in some weird way. Or her. Again, confidentiality: the secret is the business's soul.

It all started when I moved in with Maggie. You'd expect me to take the relationship in a steadier pace but at 28 I'm already all set to settle down. I'm basically trapped in a 40-years younger body since my take on my life would make it look like I'm 70. I basically slept there all the time, so it wasn't exactly that big of a change in my life, but it sounded good to make it official. 

According to her, the whole neighborhood wanted to meet me. She said that I seemed just like a big mystery to them. One chat alone with a woman named Sarah Carlson was enough for me to understand that I wasn't particularly welcome there, but not because of me. That specific part of the street didn't like strangers there. It was just like a little gang. All the houses seemed to have been taken from a horror film, especially reminding me Lampkin Street from Michael Myers: 9 light blue, white and green houses with light rooftops. From the short conversation I had with Sarah, all I understood was that the owners of those 9 houses were all friends from long back, even before they had bought the houses. 

The street was named Trumans Street and those 9 houses occupied the middle of it. 5 on one side and 4 on the other, they were only separated by well-trimmed bushes with little passageways that I managed to see whenever I took the trash out. Sarah told me she lived in the light blue house on the side of the street with the 4 houses, hers being the 2nd one from the right. She lived there with her husband, sister and son and daughter. Unlike her, Tobias seemed to be quite a nice man when he came outside to also greet me. I didn't exactly have a chance to look at the kids, but I wasn't particularly interested in it. 

Mrs. Carlson was a serious woman and in that day she was wearing a pink shirt underneath a black blazer, with black pants. She had big lips covered with dark lipstick and her nose was small and slim. Her eyes big and unexpressive held her small eyelashes, that were drenched in mascara. Her eyebrows were covered by her dark brown hair, cut short with some fangs on the front. She was actually quite rude, but given my past, I didn't get bothered by it at all. She was basically your average 30-year old business woman.

Her husband was the opposite: friendly and informal. A bit wrinkled and with clear dark circles underneath his brown eyes, he had to be older than Sarah. He was probably 45 years-old, something that his black hair pointed out. He was practically balding, but it didn't seem to shook him down since he always showed a big smile. 

Sarah only had time to try to scare me away before he exited the house to say 'Hi' to me, but she failed at doing so. He made me feel welcome, something that I didn't even care about. I was there to stay with Maggie, and if they didn't like it... Well, too bad for them. 

Eventually, she went inside her house, maybe tired of her husband's politeness, which left him alone with me. Even though he was nice, he was a bit nosy. All of my questions were disregarded with a little "I don't actually know" or "I don't want to bore you out with the answer" and a smile, just to ease the mood, while he kind of forced me into answering every question he had. Maybe it was his personality, maybe those people turned him into that. He did indeed seem like a very nice person, but deep down, he was like his wife... You didn't need to be a detective to understand that.

The Carlson's weren't the only ones that tried to get to know me: the Morrison's and the Finch's also gave their best shots.

I pity Guy Finch. A wonderful person that doesn't get to shine because of his smothering wife. The whole case just reminds me when in movies based on high school the nerd dates the cheerleader just so the jock starts being jealous. I'm not calling him a nerd, even though his brown glasses may leave you thinking otherwise. His hair was brown and, even though he had green eyes, he was still a bit ugly. He was clearly about 35 years-old, like Mrs. Finch.

Victoria Finch, however, was stunningly beautiful. She could leave any guy drooling, including me if my mind wasn't thinking about Maggie at that time; way out of Mr. Finch's league if you ask me. She was the dominant one in the relationship, with her hair dyed orange and her eyes of a strong blue. Way taller than Guy, she could basically use his head as an arm-rest. She wore some ripped jeans and a blue shirt with a big cleavage. More than confident, she clearly knew how to manipulate people to get what she wanted, especially men. Of course that when I mean confident, I'm not exactly saying it was a good thing.

As I said before, she clearly saw herself as Finch's superior... Not only that, but she saw herself as a superior to everyone, including me. Her amazingly big ego made it almost impossible to talk to Mr. Finch, but she did mention that she had to get to work before leaving us in a stormed pace (it was still 8 in the morning, the neighborhood was still very calm), letting me and Finch talk for just a few minutes before he also stormed into his house (the 5th one on the side with 5 streets, right next to Maggie's). Apparently, she was a model. At the time, I wasn't sure whether that was a lie or not.

The only thing I had to ask was "How in the hell do you put up with this woman?", and to test his personality, I asked him exactly like this. My intentional unpoliteness was entirely disregarded by a loud laugh, that proved me what I already suspected: he'd put up with anything (but one day he'd burst with anger and just let it all out). After his answer, he said a friendly farewell and went in his house.

Later that day, I met my favorite couple: Simone and Tyler Morrison. Also next to our house, they lived there with their son, Nathan. Simone reminded me of someone I had met in Elementary School, but I'm not sure about Tyler. Mrs. Morrison had her hair cut very short, all curly. Her glasses were black and white, and they covered her brown eyes. She was definitely the one I liked the most out of all people there since her personality matched mine: friendly, but with a nice little touch of rudeness on her humor. I wasn't there to hang out with people, but if I was, I knew I could trust her. Tyler and Simone had their similarities and their differences. The man's hair was blonde (a really strong blonde) and his eyes were blue. He also wore glasses, grey glasses, that definitely didn't combine with his face's colors. Funny thing about the couple was that Tyler looked like a woman and Simone looked like a man.

Ivy Figs was the last person to show up that day, surprising Maggie. I had a bit of information given to me beforehand by her just so I wouldn't make her look bad, seeing as they were both best friends. She gave me a little bit of an introduction, and also told me about the remaining people: Pete Rose, Anne Smith, Erica Niegel and John Myers and Gundham Wert. I wasn't exactly the purpose of the visit: Ivy spent all the time with Maggie, which gave me some time to write down some notes about the people I met that day.

Maggie had arranged me a little office so I could do my investigations. A very small and vintage room, more than comfortable. The walls were painted green and the floor also had that color, maybe slightly lighter. All I had there was a desk and a little filing cabinet to store all my notes. I'm a very visual thinker.

Ivy was 43-years old according to Maggie, but she seemed ten years younger: no dark circles or wrinkles. Her hair was naturally brown, but dyed blonde: the roots were seen and created a cool effect. Her brown eyes didn't quite match the whole "theme" of her face, and she seemed quite disproportionate: big head on a small, slim body. Still, I considered her a beautiful woman. I could tell she was chatty. They were both in the kitchen talking over a cup of tea, but I only heard Ivy and her high-pitched voice.

Eventually, Ivy said goodbye to both me and Maggie and took the chance to say that she was throwing a party on the 13th of October, so the rest of the neighborhood could meet me. Maggie rushed in and said yes, and so I agreed to go there too. She left the house at a slow pace... Our house... in a slow pace.