— Oh dear... – Said Gaffsie, taking a deep breath. She felt far from relieved when a wave of anxiety swept over her, almost causing her to faint in front of the Police Inspector. It would be a shame if that were to occur right here, she thought as she kept her composure before saying anything. – When I heard Mrs. Fillyjonk was gone, I... I thought you meant she left home to visit a friend or a distant relative, not that she... I never thought about this possibility before, not until today, when my cousin told me about what happened. I still can't believe it, it must be a lie but I can't convince myself that it is a lie when all I see before me is the raw, cruel, naked truth. It must be a bad dream, I thought to myself before, but it isn't.

— Do you know what happened the night Mrs. Fillyjonk was, uh... Murdered? – The Police Inspector asked.

— No, I don't. – Gaffsie's words came out with some difficulty, but they had to be said. – Like I said, my cousin told me everything, which was quite surprising to me because, as far as I know, Houska is not interested in other people's gossip and conversations, she usually stays away from those, but it was her who first came to me and told me about the murder. I... I had no knowledge of such a thing, and... I really wish it was a joke. Even if it was done in bad taste, something very unlikely for Houska to say, I just wish that... None of this had happened. It shouldn't have been like this... It really shouldn't.

— Uh huh. I heard you were a friend of Mrs. Fillyjonk. – The Police Inspector continued his questioning as he wrote a few things on his notepad. – Were you two close?

— Well, yes. I was one of her few friends, but despite all of my visits, I hardly knew her. She was so reserved and didn't talk about her life with others in detail, not even me. She was a nice host to her guests, but whenever anyone commented on her husband, the whole room would be suddenly filled with a dead silence.

— Dead silence, you say.

— Yes, it was awful. Mrs. Fillyjonk forbade anyone to mention him in any way that wasn't polite or whatever neutral meant in her dictionary. It probably did not mean anything, so I just refrained from mentioning his name in all of the conversations we've had. I was afraid that if I spoke about the late Mr. Fillyjonk or something about his trip to Borneo, it would upset her, and an upset Fillyjonk is the least of things you want to see.

— Could it be that she was hiding a secret? Not just hers, but her husband's also?

— Everyone has their secrets, Inspector. Some of them are so well kept that they die along with their owner.

— Right. – The Police Inspector said before realizing he ran out of ink, yet he did not pretend to make a sandal out of it, frustrating as it was. – I got one more question before you leave, it's about your cousin.

— You mean Houska?

— Yes. Where is she?

— At the moment, I don't know. Last time I saw her, she was at the fields, taking care of the flowers. She likes them.

— I see. Mind if I ask her any questions?

— With all due respect, Inspector, but she wants to be left alone. – Gaffsie intervened. – Look, I know my cousin has grown up and can take care of herself. I had the pleasure to hold her in my arms when she was little and to watch her unfold as a young maiden through the years, but as I said, and I don't mean to repeat it again... She's too frightened by what she heard and wants to be left alone for a while. It's truly a tragedy, a disgrace, a very sad moment in our lives and everyone else's. Even the people who despised Mrs. Fillyjonk for what she was, I'm sure they're feeling something. It could be loss, it could be hatred, it could be pity... It's natural to feel like this when someone is gone, and under horrible circumstances nonetheless. I hope you understand.

— Certainly, I do. – The Police Inspector nodded. He sounded so professional when he put an emphasis on his "I do". – I won't bother her, that's my word.

— I really appreciate it. Whenever my cousin is feeling any better, I'll let you know. I pray that the investigation goes well and that whoever is the real culprit pays for what they've done.

— They surely will, miss.

— I wish we could talk more, but I have to leave. – Gaffsie said, moving away from the Police Inspector, almost in a hurry. – I'm not sure if the women's committee of Moominvalley has been informed of the passing of one of its members. Have a nice day, Inspector.

— See you around!

Soon enough...

— Diane... – Dale began to record his speech as he stepped into Mrs. Fillyjonk's mansion. – It's 9:45 a.m. and, with the permission from the local police, we are going into the belly of the beast. I said "we", but Harry is nowhere to be found. He must have stopped in the middle of the way to tie his shoes or to catch his hat blown by the wind, but anyway... It's not completely dark here, as there are a few windows open to let in the sunlight. I see a staircase that leads upstairs, but I won't got there yet. The kitchen seems normal, and the living room is in an utter mess. I find it very strange that the owner of the mansion left the living room like this on purpose, given her favorite hobbies were gardening, knitting, symmetrical organization of porcelain dishes and taking the dust away from the furniture. She had a very strict and organized lifestyle, which confirms that, indeed, this is where the scene took place.

The devil is in the details, so Dale took his time to analyze the crime scene with caution. The first thing he noticed was a red stain on the carpet, which appeared to be blood, although he couldn't be sure due to its consistency and smell, then he saw some books that had fallen off the shelves, some overturned chairs in the corner and a sofa in front of him that was also overturned. All these objects were arranged in a way that indicated that someone had tripped over them or that a struggle had taken place.

— A fight may have ensued between the victim and the killer. – Said Dale, once again recording his findings. He wiped some dust from his right shoulder before continuing. – Mrs. Fillyjonk was caught by surprise in the middle of the night and it is evident that she showed some resistance prior to being murdered. It's a possibility, one that is close to being correct. The killer didn't bother to clean the blood stain, as I may refer to the unknown red liquid for now, since it doesn't seem to be the usual type of blood that dries at room temperature. There might be blood somewhere, but the forensics team are not here at the moment. I check the front door and I can see the Police Inspector and Harry, who's late. He can see me standing at the door. I waved at him and he waved back at me. That's all for now, Diane.