Charles was sat in his London house. He was beginning to think it was a little overcrowded with furniture. He had managed to save his favourite pieces from the country house before the sale went through. It was meant to be sold as seen, but after Charles had played his trump card with the estate agent, he felt he was capable of anything. so took what he wanted and left the rest.
There had been a slight delay whilst Scotland Yard had taken a look over the place, but they didn’t find anything new for their murder investigation. They had now begun interviewing the surviving family members, Charles was in fact awaiting the arrival of his cousin Alex, the latest of D.I, Deacon’s victims. Alex and Charles had become close during the first war and had worked together in military intelligence during the second. Charles had no concerns about Alex dealing with Deacon.
As Alex’s car pulled up outside, a small boy ran into the room Charles was inhabiting. The small boy was in fact Charles’ son, Daniel.
“Daddy, play trains?” The child asked.
“In a moment Danny. Maybe Uncle Alex will want to play instead!” Charles said hopefully.