Der Mörder in der Villa
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...sort of Geisterdings. Gruselig.
Als es schlussendlich auch noch zu regnen begann, schlug ich rasch den Kragen meines Mantels hoch und ging fröstelnd zum Eingangsportal. Die einst prächtigen Verzierungen aus Bronze waren verwittert und kaum mehr erkennbar. Mit einem durchdringenden Quietschen schwang das morsche Holz nach innen. Ein eisiger Schauer lief meinen Rücken hinab, als ich die hohe Eingangshalle des alten Hauses betrat. Obwohl die Farben der Wände, das Holz der Dielen und die noch vorhandenen Teppiche stark ausgeblichen waren, ließ sich noch gut der frühere Glanz und Reichtum, der hier geherrscht haben musste, erkennen.
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