The air is fresh and awakening as you drive down the roads into the middle of the town. It's still early, you glance at the clock in the car - 6:03 am.
The small businesses begin to open up as you drive past. Some of the less busy shopkeepers wave and smile at you. You smile back and nod your head. Maybe being up so early in the morning isn't so bad after all.
You turn off out of the town - onto the motor way.
You can feel the wind whipping you hair as you gun down the motor way to get to the scene of the crime. Everywhere is deserted. Completely empty. You feel alive. Free.
Turning off the motor way, you wonder exactly where it is you should be heading. You pull up and retrieve your phone.
As you grasp it in your hand, it begins to ring and vibrate. You answer it.
"I'll text you the address you should head to." It was your boss. Was - he hung up immediately. Sighing, you wait for the text. It comes through and you read it. It says: "Sycamore House..."
You pause. Isn't that a famous house? Someone important definitely lives there. You scramble your memory as to who it might be. The Dif-. The Din-. The Dixies!
You follow the directions in the text and pull up outside the house. It's huge - three stories tall. You see the gardens littered with policemen and women. They all look concerned and sickened.
You open the car door. Shutting it behind you, you see a couple of people who you should talk to.
Who do you talk to first?