Tuesday 30 August 2011

Saturday 6 August 2011

The Man in Room 16

Lily looked around her new flat with an air of apprehension. It was a lot smaller than her last one, and had an odd smell, a bit like rust. Still, times changed. And after the loss of her job, she counted herself lucky that she had managed find herself a flat that she could afford at all.

Her landlord shuffled up behind her. A crumbling old man, his face was kindly yet weathered, and a thick accent that hailed, so Lily thought, from eastern Europe. He was smiling now, having tucked the best part of Lily's savings account into his shabby jacket. "You want me to show you around?"

She shook her head, a lump in her throat. "No. Thank you," she added, "But I'll be alright. Thank you," she repeated, wondering why she was thanking him.

"Very good." He creaked his way out.

She blinked back the tears that pricked the back of her eyes and took a look around the place. There was one main room, containing a squishy armchair, a sofa-bed with a torn cushion, and a rather grand wardrobe. On the other side of the room was a kitchenette section, with a cupboard and gas cooker. A small bathroom on one side held the bare minimum: a tiny shower, toilet and sink.

Although the flat itself was minimalistic, Lily was pleased to discover that whoever had owned the flat before her had left plenty behind. She found selection of plates, a cup and saucer and a coffee machine - and, wrapped in a napkin, there was solid silver fork and spoon.

"Mr Poloski?"

The door creaked - a shuffling of footsteps - "What is it?"

"Whoever was here before me left a lot of stuff here. Do you suppose he wants it back?"

"Don't suppose so," he mumbled, picking his front teeth. "He left in a bit of a hurry. I couldn't contact him, so I re-let the room. Guess you can keep it now."

Lily smiled. Every cloud, I guess, she thought to herself. Her mind wandered to the grand wardrobe - had he left anything good in there that she might be able to sell? She strode over and pulled the door.

With a deafening snap, the door fell off its hinges and hung sadly to one side. And slowly, a hand became visible, through the multiple hangers and thick layers of clothing. An arm attatched to the hand. And then a shoulder.

And then the whole body of a young man slithered out and onto the floor.

Lily did not scream - she was not that sort of girl - but she did jump back in alarm, stumbling and having to support herself on the counter. When she had righted herself, she peered closer, seeing a gleam of a silver knife-hilt in thrust deep into the man's shirt. The smell of rust increased, and Lily stiffened when she realised that this was probably the source of the smell she had noted when she had come in.

Mr Poloski did not seem very disturbed. "Shall I, um, call the police?"

"Yes," snapped Lily. "I think that would be a good idea." Then something occurred to her. "Who has keys to this room?"

"Only me and the tenant," said Mr Poloski. "Tenants are not allowed to have new keys cut." Then his eyes brightened, and he smiled. "I bet it was that cleaning lady. She had a frightful argument with him the other day."

"Cleaning people have keys too?"

"Oh no. I let them in."

Lily bit her lip, musing. "Yes, go and call the police," she said, and then added under her breath. "I think they'll be ready to fill a jail cell. And I think I'll find myself somewhere else to sleep tonight."

Answer (highlight to read): Someone must have returned the keys to Mr Poloski before he was able to rent the apartment to another tenant. If Mr Poloski was not the killer, how did he know to get the keys?