Elijah took in the red-brick house on the left of him from inside his car that was parked by the curb. It was among a row of similar, terrace houses- two stories high, a driveway with a small side garden. Even the gates were alike, bordering the stretch with a row of tiny black, metallic spires as the lane was flanked on two sides by the same connected terrace houses with their neat lawns and warm architecture.

Red-brick houses with their eaves lending some shade to the grass underneath. They brought back a sense of nostalgia; an image of logs burning in fireplaces and Christmas trees during the coming Winter. Elijah had never actually lived in a red-brick house, neither could he remember sitting in front of a lighted fireplace, toasting marshmallows and chestnuts with Christmas presents strewn all over him. It was all imagined. When he was kid, he had a wild imagination to make up for the bleak reality. Those fantasies kept him sane and gave him some hope but only for a while. Dreams- they bubbled, excited and then they burst, leaving the feeling of nothingness behind; the feeling of empty promises that seemed so real. The bubbles that floated past his childhood mind’s eyes were beautiful because from every different angle, a rainbow spectrum of colors would gleam in the sunlight; colors that lied and deceived.

There was someone in the house as he saw a moving shadow behind the draperies. Climbing out of his car, he approached the gate and rang the doorbell. The dog immediately ran over and jumped out and down, clawing at the other side of the gate, barking most annoyingly, thinking that it was fierce enough to instill fear into Elijah. He knelt down and stared at the large black Alsatian which was glaring at him with yellowed eyes and snarling teeth.

"Bite me." Elijah whispered to the dog and smiled most condescendingly. A lady came out then, broad-shouldered with her hair tied back into a tight ponytail. She ruffled the top of the Alsatian’s head and narrowed her eyes, giving him a most chary look via her slanted sight.

"What do you want?" She asked harshly; coldly. Elijah stood up, a little transfixed by her detachedness, an imperfect replica of his; born from a different nature. Hers resulted from the pain and anger at having someone close to her taken away so suddenly; very different from his kind of loss indeed.

"You have a wonderful dog here. Most obedient." Elijah lied as he stood up. He had no love for animal- they were mindless, brainless and terribly disloyal. "I’m a PI, hired by Mrs. Sanders to look into her son’s death. I’m sorry about what happened to your brother." He kept his voice low and soothing; softening his eyes and smiled like a comrade who understood the agony. His good looks probably helped too in a world often judged by physical appearances. He wondered how many more pretenses he would have to endure through. It was tedious to be nice.

"Mrs. Sanders? Lenny Sanders mother?" She asked, the furtive look still veiled over her mien but Elijah could see it softening. No one who knew Mrs. Sanders- mute, kind and poor- could feel nothing at her plight of losing her only son.

Not even Elijah could.

"Yes…"

"Where does Alvin fit in with your investigations? Aren’t the police doing their job?" She questioned relentlessly but she patted her dog on the head and waved it away. It looked at its mistress before giving Elijah one final snarl and then ran off into the back garden.

"They are, but much too slowly. I know her personally and decided to look into it for her. Somehow, I just have a hunch that your brother’s death may not be an accident or… a suicide. Someone could have killed Alvin and that someone is the serial murderer on the loose."

Her lips elongated into one thin line and Elijah bid his time. Finally, she relented and pressed a button on the wall next to her. One side of the gate opened and Elijah stepped in, scratching the back of his head, smiling gratefully.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome. As long as you clear the air surrounding my brother’s death, you’re always welcome."

***

"Alvin’s a brilliant social scientist. He has always been in awe of the currents of events, what pushes an incident forward and what held imminent dangers back. The topic he was always obsessed with was of course, World War II. He was not happy with all the explanation for its occurrences. Or rather, he felt something was lacking. So in his thesis, he postulated that there was actually a force behind Hitler’s appeal; trying to explain it using logic and dwelling into the realm of metaphysics. He thought that besides the world events, there must be something about Hitler that made him so alluring to a mass of intelligent people who would follow him unquestioningly into genocide. He hated his thesis; it did not turned out the way he wanted it to be because he felt there should be a revelation of something more serious. His thesis was almost forgotten when he returned from New Orleans after attending some conventions. He still did it but he was excited about doing a Masters right away to expound on his theory." Marsha Skyner reiterated her brother’s passion to Elijah who nodded, already bored by the rhetoric of Alvin Skyner’s thesis. He thought it was rather fascinating but definitely far behind a Noble or Pulitzer prize.

"What convention would that be?" Elijah asked, remembering something about a convention that Isaiah had sifted from his conversation with Professor Carter.

A tiny, unfamiliar and increasingly persistent twinge most unwontedly tugged at his heart. Caught by surprised, his hand flew to his chest and he laid it there for a moment, his mouth gaping slightly.

"If you’ll wait here, I’ll go and bring some of his stuff out. He kept all things related to his research and I have them all in the attic still… I hope I can find what you need…are you alright?" Marsha asked in concern, almost reaching out to touch him on the shoulder or something. Elijah slinked back onto the couch and smiled politely.

"Yes, please do find the things if you can. I’m alright."

She gave him a most mindful stare- as if thinking that he was going to collapse from a sudden heart attack anytime soon- before standing up. As she walked away from the sofa, out of the living room and up the stairs, Elijah leaned back against the leather couch and surveyed the his surroundings. The hall was cozy, albeit empty. The red leather couch was the most striking piece of furniture amidst its milder colored companions. What was most noticeable was the cleanliness of the place, everything was spick and span. Marsha must have taken to cleaning as a form of therapy to get over the death of her brother. The bond between the both of them was seemingly strong- so strong that death could not even hope to decompose it.

Strong enough to be blatant- lain out in the open- for Elijah’s eyes to see and dismiss.

She came back down a good fifteen minutes later just as Elijah was almost dozing off from boredom. In her hands was an opened Nike shoebox and as she sat down, she placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

"This is it… I can’t bear to throw it away… he spent too much efforts compiling his research into his thesis. There are plenty more Xeroxed pages but I guess what you want is in this box which contained ticket stubs and some brief write-ups of the conventions he went for. Maybe you may find something here…" Her green eyes scanned the contents together with him as he took out each and very single item and examined them closely. A crumpled pamphlet caught his attention because of the name UNO emblazoned on top.

"Interesting... may I keep this?" Elijah asked, already putting it into his jacket’s pocket. Marsha gave him a wryly smile.

"You don’t seem to need my permission. My brother, he’s very dear to me. I don’t like the way they explained his death. He may be a little self-centered but he’s a good kid. And smart enough to know not to OD on insulin, accidentally or not."

"Do you know anything about his girlfriends?" Elijah ventured a guess. Both girls linked to Alvin were dead. Maybe their relationship with him could mean something.

"Sandy or Shelly? Sandy’s a mild-mannered girl. She’s extremely sweet and… I think Al was going to get engaged to her… indefinitely… she was the only who could take his nonsense. Shelly’s a different story. Al’s really crazy about her but she’s eccentric and a hot head. I finally convince Al that she’ll be bad for him. Now that Sandy’s dead too… I…" She tilted her head up and looked at the ceiling, trying to will her tears not to fall. Elijah was suddenly so sick of people crying in front of him, irate by their display of weakness. Tears dissolved rationality and caused reasoning to be blurred. This outburst of emotions, hailed as cathartic, was too draining on the physical energy and dehydrated the host.

"I’m sorry about your loss…" So sorry… gee… people die! Get over it. "What’s Shelly like? Does she hate Sandy or Al for… you know…?"

Marsha wiped away a tear and shook her head, gaining control of herself for which Elijah was thankful for. He had a rather good opinion of Marsha. She seemed like someone who could be in control. Control was important. Control made one sharp and aware so nothing could hurt him. Control restricted the level of mistakes to the barest minimum.

Elijah felt so much better. His own set of codes for life were slowly re-registering themselves in his mind. With a scornful glint in his mind’s eyes, he smirked at Lijah. No, Lijah was not going to win. Lijah would lose and lose for one final time.

He was going to trample on Lijah, storm on him and break him such that he could never be put together again.

"Shelly? I don’t know… Like I said, I don’t have a good opinion of Shel. She was always having shouting matches with Alvin… off and on… on and off…but… but the break-up was pretty amiable. Their religions will never mesh well each other’s. Shelly’s a staunch Jehovah’s Witness. Alvin’s… I don’t what Alvin is…but he’s definitely not the most religious person I know. Shelly hated being tied down to anyone and Alvin hated having to fight with her all the time. He told me they smiled at each other more after their break up. Shelly even became great friends with Sandy."

"She died." Elijah informed her. She nodded and heaved a heavy sigh.

"I’ve heard. So many deaths here lately…you must find the killer. You’re right; the police are taking a very long time."

"I think I’ll be going now. Thanks. If I need anything else, can I call you?" Elijah took out his mobile, about to key in her number into the phone’s memory.

"Yes. Here, I’ll punch it in for you…" She reached out for his mobile and somehow, instinctively, he drew his hands back.

"I won’t steal it from you… I just thought it’s easier for me to just key it in for you. Less chance of a mistake." She chided him, just like how a big sister would, or rather, how he thought a big sister would.

Feigning an embarrass smile when he could not have cared less, he passed her his phone and watched as her strong, almost masculine fingers pressed each button down deliberately and purposefully. He wondered if she had ever terrorized her little brother by being too protective; possessive.

"There you go. Nice phone. I have the same." She offered up that useless last bit of information. He raised a brow and smiled like someone who was excited over sharing the same taste with a stranger they hardly knew. Standing up, he walked himself to the door and she caught the hint.

"PIs, are all of you so busy?"

"Time’s ticking fast for us. I have to do my job." He explained, truthfully. She nodded and opened the door for him. They walked in silence to the main gate and before she pressed the release button of the gates, she cocked her head to one side and stared at him for a while.

"Are you getting paid by dear old Mrs. Sanders? From what I’ve heard from Danny, Lenny’s family quite poor…"

"Nope. It’s purely to appease my curiosity and out of the drive for the truth." Yadda yadda blah blah… "What do you mean, ‘heard from Danny?’" Elijah asked; his interest piqued. He had always thought Daniel was only linked to the group by his relationship with Lenny and nothing else. But obviously, he had more than one tête-à-tête with Marsha.

"Danny is Lenny’s best friend I think. Somehow, he’s always around when the gang met up in our house for their project. Alvin’s always glad to help them out. He’s hopelessly quiet; almost hanging on to Lenny like a leech. But Alvin told me once that the guy had an amazing brain."

"Before I go, can you tell me how did Alvin die? Besides the overdose…" Elijah gestured a little; prompting her to visit the nightmare that probably haunted her every night.

"I don’t rightly know… I… I wasn’t here…" Her voice grew thinner; more pleading; a look of someone looking for an absolution. Looking down on the floor, she brushed a lock of dark blonde hair that had fallen out of her almost immaculate ponytail. "I was somewhere else… in a meeting in New Delhi. I flew back immediately when the police told me they’ve found Alvin dead in his car that was parked on some cliff top. No suicide note, just some insulin overdose… I wasn’t here…"

"I’m sorry again… I really should be going… I…" He indicated to the gate and she nodded, pressing the button finally. He smiled sympathetically.

"You’ll have days that are terrible… but days that will be better. Just…" He noticed the cross askew on her collar bone, hanging from a thin silver chain, "Just have faith that it’ll all be better…" His voice dropped a notch or two. Blinking twice, he tore his eyes from the cross and gave her another smile- a more genuine replica of the first one.

But still feeling the need to bolt.

"I have. I just wish… it’s not so hard…" She gave him a brave smile and he averted his eyes. Raising his hand in a brief wave, he walked away to the Toyota, feeling like he finally possessed the centre piece to the jigsaw puzzle and somehow, the scatter pieces were all going to fall in place very soon.

***