So, the traitorous fool is dead. He was right to remark that I was convinced I would get away with the crimes with which he was accusing me. He lived poorly for so long he forgot what money can mean in the right hands. I’m truly not sure to what end I decided to return here to visit him but it doesn’t matter anymore. All that’s left is the smouldering remains of a house that was.
Oh yes, all that lingers is the skeleton of the house. No bodies were found, I’m told. All that was left standing was a piece of library wall with a bookcase still attached to it with hinges, though no passage lay beyond it. The only hint they found that anyone had ever been there was the shape of a hand surrounded by the soot of the fire, a scrap of a girl’s dress caught on the shelf and the discarded cane of an innocent man who once lost everything.
This tale is finished. Carry on with your lives.
– Winston Ramsey