The House

Chapter 12 - Day 2: The Ron in Rude

I cannot see a damn thing through the window. 

I'm standing with my feet among wet plant life in flowerbed mud, trying to see through masses of ivy into a tiny little window that might belong to the locked room next to the kitchen. 

It must be because further to my left are some more windows, a little larger and through those, I can see vague shapes that might be bookcases. The library, if I understand the layout of this house correctly. The window I'm launching all my efforts on is not giving me any clues; it is too dark inside. I don't even see any silhouettes.

"Useless."

A spider darts between some leaves near my face, and I jump back, almost tripping in my haste to vacate the flower bed. The air around me is crisp after the storm, and everything is dripping and glistening in the morning sunlight. 

Fresh.

A stone path, similar to the one I'd seen on the west side of the house yesterday, leads from the back of the house through a thorny jungle to the creepy-looking building with the pretty roof. The two paths probably connect at some point. I'm not really up for bundu bashing, not in flip-flops, but the building is making me a little curious. 

Could I have been there last night?

No, I don't think so. If I'd gone there, I'd be covered in even more scratches than I already am. Fighting through brambles and bushes is not pleasant in broad daylight; it will be a lot worse at night. Surely, I would've woken up if I attempted to reach that building in my sleep. 

Unless sleepwalking grants a person magical powers... like walking through locked doors.

My OCD tendencies are too strong for me just to let this go. It is going to bug me until I find the answer. I know someone who might at least give me some clues. I fish my phone from my pocket, absently noting that it will need a recharge after this phone call. My phone's battery doesn't last very long. 

I find Ron McLaughlin's saved number and press the call button.

"Ron," he barks when I'm about to hang up after letting it ring for some time.

What a marvellous way to answer the phone!

"No, it's Belle," I cannot resist responding.

"What?" He sounds sufficiently confused and more than marginally irritated. I don't think I like Ron much. I would rather deal with Tom Something...

"I'm renting the house with the orchard. I called yesterday about the electricity."

"Oh! Right, right. Is it working now?"

"Yes, thank you. I just wanted to ask you about the set of keys that was left in the kitchen."

"Sure." The sigh accompanying the word doesn't make him seem very eager to hear the question.

"There seem to be five keys missing..."

"Five? I only know of four that won't be there. The sunroom on the top floor, the study and one of the bedrooms don't have keys, and the key to the cellar is missing as well. No idea where they went. They haven't been around since long before I started to work there. The sunroom is unlocked; you can use that for your pictures."

Pictures? Does he think I'm a child that draws pictures?

"Oh! Right! The dining room doesn't have a key either, but it's not locked. Why do you need the key? The other three rooms have always been locked. I think the key to the study might be with the owner. Surely you don't need to go in there?"