Dias' Story

"And that's one of the strangest things about him... Almost anyone who knew him would guess he'd travelled the world. But he didn't. He was here the whole time... just went into hiding for a while...

I knew him in college. Well, I should say, I knew of him. He was very secluded, never went to parties, and spent most of his time alone. I worked at the library for a short time, and I used to see him there every day. He read books about witchcraft, telepathy, dreams, numerology, astrology, all sorts of stuff like that.

After college he managed to disappear. We didn't know anything about him until about five years later. He seemed to have made himself plenty of money during the time he was gone. He started showing back up and being extremely social, created a completely new identity for himself. He dressed well and was considered high-class. No one would have guessed he knew so much about the occult. We were all surprised, of course, when we learned he'd been murdered."

"Murdered?!" You gasp. You're not even sure why anything surprises you anymore. It almost makes perfect sense. If he really is dead... of course he was murdered. It couldn't be a simple death; it would have to be some elaborate secret murder that you'll probably have to unravel if you want to help Cal. You realize you've allowed your face to convey your utter disgust. You quickly switch back to a look of surprise.

"Yes, murdered. Poisoned. They found him dead in a chair with his hands tied behind his back. The murderer was apparently so confident he wouldn't get caught that he didn't even bother to hide the body or make it look like an accident, or suicide." Joe looks annoyed at this. "He just tied him up, forced the poison down his throat, and walked out.

There's a reason I'm telling you all this, and it's not because I think it will help you. In fact I'm sure it's confused you more. But the fact is... not many people knew that Nicolas was interested in the occult. And he wasn't known for helping people. And he certainly never set up a table on the street. So I'm very interested in your so-called friend who sent you to find him. I'm interested in what he knows about Nicolas."

"So am I," you agree. "He talked as if he knew Nicolas was alive. I got the impression that he'd seen him recently. He told me exactly what street I should find him on, and he even gave me his home address."

"What?!" Joe looks just as surprised as you'd guessed he would be. "What's the address?" His eyes focus on you, his face tense and direct, as if he were demanding this information from you, daring you to refuse to give it to him. He seemed to grow a head taller in his seat.

You remain silent long enough that it becomes painful to hold your gaze.

"Well, speak up!"

The End

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