Five
..After a long time walking, I finally got to what I suspected was Smith’s place, a small little shack to the Southwest of town, much like Setzer had said. It looked like it was in fine upkeep, not a shingle missing from the roof. The door had a finely polished knocker steel knocker, which I used. I waited.
..After a few minutes of nothing, I banged the knocker louder against the door, and waited a few more minutes. I still got nothing by way of response, so I circled around back, and attempted that door with my personal knocker. Nothing.
..I fiddled with the back handle. The door came open. It was not locked. I peeked my head inside of the shack for a closer look.
..I was looking at what appeared to be a kitchen. It was immaculately kept, with a spotless table and countertops, and not a single dish or spoon in sight. I took a step out of the door and looked around some more. The sink did not have any stains, and the nozzle was polished as nicely as the doorknocker was. I called for Smith and got no answer.
..I moved through the kitchen into what must have been the living area. What I got was more of the same. Smith had a small couch, and a smaller recliner. The furniture was simple, and a little rough around the edges, but anywhere where the fabric was torn it was meticulously patched. There were some papers and magazines, but they were piled neatly on a little table, and even then this was only what could not fit on the rack. Smith’s lamps were fully oiled with spotless glass coverings.
..I called for him again and got nothing, so I went to his bedroom. The scene in there was a little bit different. Unlike the other rooms, this one could not be called fastidious. His bed was ruffled, and to the side of the room was a liquor cabinet, which was left open. On top of the little cabinet were two glasses, one for wine and the other scotch. The scotch glass was almost empty, but there was still some wine left over. The scotch bottle was neatly placed back in the cabinet, but the wine was left out and there wasn’t enough room in there for it. A faint line of lipstick was left on the wineglass. A gentleman’s shirt was left on the floor.
..His bed had a small, yellowish stain on it, the first stain of any sort I had seen in his house. I found myself staring at it for about a minute or so, while one of my hands idly ran over the used glass of scotch, moving it slightly from the cabinet. There was a bit of resistance, and when I looked down, I found that it had left a ring. This also did not fit with the image I had worked out of old man Smith.
..I swirled the remainder of the scotch around in the glass, while I puzzled out what was going on in my head. Something told me that Smith wasn’t coming back today, though a glance in his wardrobe revealed that there were as many shirts as there were hangers, if you counted the one on the floor. I sniffed lightly at the glass of scotch, which smelled familiar, but not what I thought scotch ought to smell like. But then, I’m not a drinker, so I wouldn’t really know. I sat the glass down again.
..There was a desk in the room, which I tried opening some of the drawers of and failed. On top were a few papers, and I rifled through them, finding most of them to not be anything interesting. There was a little letter that was written in a nice, easy-to-read calligraphy. The handwriting looked feminine, and the letter detailed naughty little messages to old man Smith that made me feel as proud of him as Setzer said he did. It was signed “Marion”, which I noted started with an M. Nothing else in the room stood out.
..I had gotten a bad feeling about Smith, but his house certainly lacked any proof of foul play, for all that I was finding it very suspicious. I didn’t like that an otherwise immaculate man had kept a slovenly bedroom, and I didn’t know any older gentlemen who keep their backdoors unlocked. Something in my head told me that the scotch was wrong, but I’m not an expert on alcohol or poison. Everything could be explained away easily enough, though. It’d make sense for a bedroom to be a bit messier than the rest of the house, especially if Smith was out somewhere with his little girlfriend. I didn’t want to know what the stain on the bed was, and old men could put any number of strange things into their own drinks, if they thought the result would be an impressed younger girlfriend. My gut told me to worry, but my head had me keeping my cool.
..I didn’t want to go see Setzer, though. That had to wait. There was another party out there that I wanted to investigate, and that was Shinra.



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