It appeared that nothing had been stolen from Mr. Gerald's home. After retiring, the old man had left all his valuables to his children, wishing to lead as simple a life as possible in the house he had lived in as a child. So, there was nothing of significant value in the house, including money or jewelry.
However, strange noises at night kept waking him. Whenever he went out into the corridor to find the source of the sound, he would see a silhouette that fled the moment it sensed his presence. Mr. Gerald was never fast enough to catch it.
His employess stayed on the first floor. At Mr. Gerald's request, they had stayed on the upper floors for a few days, but while they were there, no such incidents occurred. Because of that he was also aware his butler thought he has some senility problems.
Now, a weird person who intruding into his house keep coming for the last three weeks. A week prior, he had contacted the detective to monitor anyone entering or leaving the house.
Caspian had asked if there were any known secret passages inside the mansion; that question was also noted in the notebook.
"After you asked that, I checked the house records. As you know, the history of this place goes back a long way. But I found no record of any secret passages," Mr. Gerald replied. Aside from that, the other questions in the notebook also didn't lead Caspian to any further clues. As a detective on his first case, he was facing an intruder whose motives were entirely unclear.
Nevertheless, Caspian and Palm were relieved that the deceased detective hadn't collected the down payment from Mr. Gerald.
"Mr. Mortis… honestly, it bothers me that you haven't accepted my payment. After all, you gave me expert advice during our last meeting. Please, take this," Mr. Gerald said, pulling 200 Juvel from his wallet. Before Caspian could move, Palm took the money.
"I am in charge of his finances," Palm said, when he saw Mr. Gerald's startled expression.
"Ah... I see," Mr. Gerald replied with a nod of approval.
Combined with the payment from Mrs. Willow the day before, they had managed to stock their kitchen with some food and enjoyed a proper dinner and breakfast. Now, with this extra money, they could afford to taste the delicacies of this new world.
After leaving Jacob Gerald's mansion, they wandered the streets for a while until they entered a restaurant from which delicious aromas wafted. Their meal was simple—stew and some mashed potatoes—but Caspian truly enjoyed the taste.
Occasionally, he wondered if this was a parallel universe, but even if it were, did it really matter? He was pleased that these "aliens" were almost identical to humans. As he ate, he stopped complaining about being poor and even took a break from cursing the employees of the Afterlife Office. He didn't think they would die of hunger anytime soon... though the possibility of dying from other causes still remained.
Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he continued to enjoy his meal. He glanced at Palm and saw that he, too, was content. The dark circles under his eyes were less purple than they had been two days ago. Even two days of sleep had done wonders for the poor man.
After leaving the restaurant, Caspian checked his pocket watch. He had found it among the detective's belongings and decided there was no harm in using it, just as he used everything else that belonged to him. After all, a dead man had no need for a watch.
He saw that there was about an hour left until the time Mr. Gerald told them to arrive. It was best to wait nearby and watch for the employees' departure.
As they approached the house, they hid around a corner and began to monitor the entrance. Soon enough, slightly earlier than expected, the butler came out with a short, plump woman. They turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
Just as they were about to leave their hiding spot, Caspian suddenly felt someone's presence behind him.
"Mr. Mortis… What are you doing here?" a funny little voice said, which he assumed belonged to a child.
When he turned around, he saw a boy. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old. His face and clothes were far from clean, yet he had a sharp look about him.
"You told me to watch this place for a week, but it hasn't been a week yet," the boy said.
"Little Max..." Caspian said, as if confirming a guess. The detective had assigned this task to someone named Little Max, but Caspian hadn't known who that was or how to contact him. Apparently, Little Max was this child.
"Don't call me little. I'll be tall soon, I'm not a kid anymore," the boy complained.
"Anyway... you came early, but you're still going to pay me the amount you promised, right?" This time, his voice held a mix of complaint and anxiety.
"Hey... why should he pay you? Who are you—" Palm started to say, but Caspian quickly covered his mouth.
"Of course I will pay you. But first, tell me quickly, what did you see here?" Caspian asked, crouching down to eye level with the boy.
"First, tell me who this man is. I've never seen him with you before. He doesn't look trustworthy at all."
"Don't worry about him. He's a friend of mine," Caspian said.
The boy continued to give suspicious glares at Palm.
"Fine..." he said after a moment.
"Mr. Mortis… it's not a thief or anyone else entering this house. There is a ghost in this house," he said. His expression turned more serious than one would expect from a child.