Emma knocked on the wooden door of a dilapidated little house. No one answered. She knocked again. No answer. Emma kept knocking continuously for two minutes and then stopped to listen. She heard someone stir inside and she waited for someone to come to the door. No answer.

Emma pushed the door open and peered inside. "Anybody home?" she called out.

"Go away," she heard someone snap.

She went inside and found a scrawny looking guy sitting in an armchair.

"Are you Roberto?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. Jeff was right. He was stoned.

"Do you know someone named Max?"

Roberto looked up, his eyes red.

"Maxwell William," said Emma.

"Get out!" Roberto growled.

"I just want to ask you a few questions," said Emma. "It'll be confidential. I'm not a cop or something."

"I said, get out! Before I make you." Roberto extracted a gun from underneath the armchair.

"Did you kill him? Did you kill Max because he was trying to come clean?" Emma asked boldly.

"Who killed Beatrice?" asked Roberto. He was obviously not in the right state of mind.

"Jeff killed Beatrice," said Emma firmly.

"What did Max do?" he asked.

"Nothing," replied Emma.

"Why was he killed then?" asked Roberto.

"That's what I'm asking you. Do you know anything about his death? Did you kill him?" asked Emma.

"I don't know. I didn't kill him. I didn't kill anybody. I tried. But she ran away," said Roberto.

"Who did you try to kill?"

"Beatrice."

"Why?"

"She was cheating on me."

"With Jeff, yeah," said Emma.

Roberto just stared at her with his sunken bloodshot eyes.

"Get out!" he growled and waved the gun.
Emma turned around and hurried away.

***

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