Somewhere, someplace, sometime; 17th instalment

‘Bewiched you say,’ the policeman smiled and looked at the barman, that didn’t.

The policeman frowned, wasn’t this man a drunk?

‘How come all evidence points to the alley’s?’ the man with the coat asked.

‘There was dirt and rubble all over the place,’ the policeman said. ‘Where else would that come from?’

‘Tried the waste container by the building?’ the man asked. ‘I think you law enforcing people turn this way to easily and quickly as you don’t want your own kind to be the perpetrator.’

The policeman knew the man was right. Most crimes in his world were fraud and theft, not murder.

‘Should he tell the policeman about the container,’ the man thought. ‘No, better not, or they would have a killing policeman to contend with.’

He took another swig of his drink when a thought struck him. ‘You might go looking at stores that sell clothes from the west,’ he suggested.

‘The west?’ the policeman frowned. ‘Why the west?’

‘Not everything from there is what it seems,’ the man said, draining his glass and walking to the door.

He had to find a place to sleep tonight where he could tie himself up real good. He thought about the empty building near the hotel and decided to go there. As he walked he looked around to see if he could find pieces of rope or something else to use as bonds. He found some rope and hoped it would be enough to keep him in place, he didn’t want to murder someone again this night.

The building was empty and he made his way to the first floor where he knew a support pillar to be. Sleeping would be uncomfortable, but that was better than the other thing. He used his teeth to pull the rope tight and hoped for the best as he lay down with his arms around the pillar.

 

The priest looked up as the girl entered his study. Her ashen face made him frown. What had happened?

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