Oh so who is leaving who hanging now. Just kiddin'. Rather enjoying all this.
I'm thinking that it'll be useful for us both to find out what we can then meet up and pool info. Maybe I'll get to finally see this house.
You want me to check the floorboards though?
Update from this end is they finally found the box. Empty of course. But it did have prints on it. Gramps.
Makes sense I suppose given what was in it.
Also there are some results back on the bones. Death by knife. There are some nicks on his rib bones.
So I checked up on the knife we found and the bloody rag. They got enough to say the blood is a familial match. When I told them about the bones they're happy to say probably the murder weapon. But with no prints it takes us nowhere.
Results on the gun. No ballistic trace to any crime in the system. Dead end.
So the fight in the yard. Not what you think. He didn't witness Great-uncle Bojo getting killed. What he did see was gran setting about him with a stick or bar or something. Great-uncle Bojo didn't hit back. Cowered. Crouched into a ball. Neighbour Chet felt sorry for him.
Then gramps came out. Fought with gran. Took the bar off her. Gave her a real smacking by all accounts. Took his brother inside. Left gran in the yard. Chet almost called the cops. But didn't.
He's beating himself up that maybe if he had Great-uncle Bojo would be alive. Told him not to. Things happen. And sometimes you can't stop 'em.
He wasn't the only one who witnessed it though. Dad did. Chet saw him. Watching it all.
I haven't said much about my parents I know. Too depressing. Dad was already a mess by the time I was born. Drink definitely. Drugs maybe. Bounced from one job to another. Mom got fed up of it. I must have been 4 or so when she left him. She had family in New York so we moved here.
Oh I'm back at the apartment. Cops finally let me leave.
Anyway mom brought me up. Didn't see anything of dad. His name was **** so I didn't really know anything about him growing up. Traced him when I got older. Miracle he's still alive to be honest. Lives rough. Still drinking.
So it looks as if I'm gonna have to find him and see what he knows.
And I've been back to the storage unit. Went through it all more thoroughly this time. Didn't find anything at first. Until I started taking the drawers out of the dresser.
And there - taped to the bottom of one of them - a letter. Addressed to me. Gramps' handwriting.
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