I first saw the door when I was walking down the alleyway. It was a chilly autumn night in London, and I was taking my freedom in stride.
I knew the police would be breathing down my neck after the murder, so this was a way to lose them and clear my head. And anyway, didn’t they say I could go anywhere within the city limits? So, this was still safe on their terms.
So much is unknown about the murder. So how could they rationally pin it on me? "There aren't any other suspects because no one else was seen," really isn't a proper argument.
As I was pondering, my subconscious noticed something. I turned to face the wall. There was a door. A door in the middle of an alleyway!
It was made of red-brown wood, that on closer inspection, was made of walnut. The hinges were somewhat rusty, but didn’t make any noise. Conclusion: Old door, but well kept. Seems slightly expensive, as walnut is sturdy, but nothing intricate.
I opened the door, half expecting there to just be a brick wall there, but there was a room. I went inside and took a look around. The room smelled musty, and nearly everything was made out of wood.
Everything was covered in dust with the exception of a desk with a lone lamp and typewriter on it. The typewriter was quite an old model and was very used because the keys were slightly lower than they should be. The lamp was a lamp.
There was a ripped leather chair behind the desk, and it was obvious that it was on it’s last legs. The dust on the chair stopped about near the middle, so either the owner was a sloucher, or someone quite short.
The owner…. surely he would be here soon, and I certainly did not want to have the police called again after that incident two days ago. My reputation could not stand another blow.
I hurried out and, in my haste to leave, I tripped on the throw rug, and crashed onto the floor. I scrambled up and turned around. The only indication I’d tripped was that the lamp on the desk was swinging ever so slightly. With that, I left.
As I left the room, I closed the door behind me. Again I examined it. This time I noticed that the doorknob didn’t match the hinges. Or there was less rust on it. But if there was less rust on it, that would mean the knob was used more than the hinges.
I turned around. “AAAAaaaaack!”, I shrieked and jumped backwards. “UUagh!”, he yelled and stumbled back, falling on the ground as he did so. We were obviously both freaked out. The boy looked about eight with short blond hair and glasses the probably belonged to someone much older than he. They rolled down his nose, and he pushed them back up to his line of sight.
He scrambled up as I calmed down.
“E-excuse me ”, I said. “I’ve got to go.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie. The Yard put me in protective/normal custody. The normal part was the fact that I have a curfew, which means I have to be back by 8:30 pm, or else. I always want to ask “or else what?”, but that probably would not be in my best interest.
The protective part was that the beds are actually comfy and I have much more privacy. Though for “protective” you would think they would keep a closer watch on me.
“Pardon me.”, he said,”but why are you examining my door?”