At first I thought it would be a night as the others before and after this one, but it has been the strangest case in my life.

Every day or, I’d better say every night, I leave my house and my family, after having kissed my little daughter while she’s already sleeping, to go to the police station, the place where I work. I stay there from 10 pm to 6 am with my colleagues. We usually play cards, smoke cigarettes, talking about our lives, families or politics, waiting for something to come, to liven up our night.

After having spent a night drowsing, someone called us telling there was something strange.

Mrs. Bell told us she had heard a noise coming from her neighbour’s house. She knew that two men lived in that house.

I realized he was sweating, but I thought it was because of the situation. Then, I understood that the situation wasn’t weirder than this man

I went to make an on-the-spot inspection with two men of mine. We knocked at the old wooden door and a very calm and polite man told us to go in. We explained the situation and he showed us the whole house, without hesitating. He told us his friend was abroad for a while. He offered us a seat and we accepted: we were tired, our shift was about to end. I realized he was sweating, but I thought it was because of the situation. Then, I understood that the situation wasn’t weirder than this man. He gazed us and he didn’t smile to our jokes.

At a certain point he got paler and paler, he gasped for breath, he screamed, he swored at us! We couldn’t understand his behaviour, we sat watching this ‘dramatic actor’ without making a sound and then… he confessed: he had killed his fellow tenant!

He showed us where he had hidden the corpse, or better, the pieces. It was a terrible scene of an even more terrible story.

If my wife asked me how my night passed, I think it would be very difficult to tell her this story.