We strolled down the street and consequently found ourselves at the doorstep along with a door written in boldly-written gold-coloured numbers and letters: 115 B.E

Kingsley knocked three times at the door and indistinct sounds of footsteps could be heard getting close to the door. Shortly, the door flung half-opened then a middle-aged-looking woman's uptight face appeared along with knotted ginger-brown hair. She frowned frantically at Kingsley and exclaimed, "Ah! Kingsley! It's been a while!" She opened the door fully and made a step more then flung her fragile-looking arms around Kingsley, hugging him with a firm grip. I gazed at her up-and-down and noticed that she was wearing a shabby-looking knee-length floral-designed dress along with tattered red heels. He ultimately released Kingsleys from her embrace and turned her face to me again frown-faced, asking Kingsley, "Who is he?"

Kingsley replied, benevolently and smilingly, "Erm... This is Inspector Alexander Ashings. He's here to meet Blake Edward."

"Oh! Nice to meet you, inspector." the lady forwarded her and I shook it, considerably, "I am Mrs Stella." She introduced herself, losing hold of my hand and beckoning us inside, "Come in!"

Just then, my eyes popped out when I spotted a thick-furred and beige-coated pointy-eared dog, ostensibly, a German Shepherd which made me jump with fear. The gentlewoman said to me, assuredly, "Don't be afraid, Mr Ashing. He won't hurt you. Don't act like a cat in front of a dog."

I took some inner courage and trudged upstairs quick short steps reaching the top landing along with Kingsley and Mrs Stella. Mrs Stella guided us to the room of Blake Edward. A faint piano song could reach my ears. When Mrs Stella turned the handle, the sound could be heard clearly but came into a halt then a heavy voice spoke, "Mrs Stella, how many time would I tell you to knock before coming in. You've completely messed up the song."

"Well, there is someone for you." Mrs Stella announced, advancing herself and letting me in.

As I stepped in, I saw the man whom I dearly wanted to meet. He was sitting on a stool in front of a piano. He had an oblong-shaped face and a fauxhawk-style hair. He was hawk-eyed and hawk-nosed. "A real character of a hawk!" I thought in my mind. He gazed at me with squinted eyes and asked, "Who's this?"

"This is Inspector Alexander Ashings." Kingsley reiterated, "He wanted to meet you."

"Oh! A guest for me. Please take a seat." Blake told me, pointing to a set of three elegantly placed armchairs around a glass table where I remarked that another person was sitting among them. He was a short but strong-looking man, holding a large newspaper that he then lowered, looking and frowning at me. He had a slightly grey-coloured handlebar moustache along with short silky hair. I approached the collection of armchairs and sat down on the one opposite to the other man's. Blake got up his stool and took a seat on the third armchair, clearing his voice and spoke, "So Inspector Ashings. Why have you the desire to visit me?" 

"Well, May I not recognise you Blake, Lance Corporal Blake," I said, smiling.

Blake looked at me, his eyebrows pulling together with astonishment, "How do you!" He paused for a moment or two, "Ashings! Lance Corporal Ashings!" He got off immediately off from his seat, placed his palms on my shoulder and hugged me firmly, tapping me on the back then losing hold of me. 

Mort and Kingsley looked at us with bewilderment and Blake said, "We fought together in the Falklands War."

"What! Well, you know each other then?" Kingsley asked.

"Well, the name told me something familiar and I wanted to meet the person and here we recognised each other,"  I said.

"And finally the history of Blake is revealed from the origin! Never had you told me about the soldier matter." Mort said, standing on his feet and dropping the folded-up journal on the glass table with a sigh of relief, placing his palms at his waists. "I'll better go for an early morning stroll along with Mrs Stella and Camilla in the park." He then left the room and trodded downstairs.  

"Ah! What a coincidence by the way." Blake added, occupying his seat again along with me and Kingsley who then sat on Mort's armchair. 

"So, there may be a case that really deserves to be for you." Kingsley started the conversation, "A case in Evangeline Town, Clementine Street. Mr Eric Daryl, a wealthy businessman and owner of the town, found dead at his typewriter desk in his office with a slitted throat."

"Hmm, sounds quite interesting," Blake said, rubbing his Balbo beard.

"Her daughter is even in the search of a private detective worth to solve the crime," I added, lastly. 

"Ah, I'm feeling stimulating and invigorating. I've not been doing anything but to play the piano that's all. And now here comes the good news." he paused for a moment or two then recommenced, "I think that I should see the daughter."

"Well, there is full time ahead of us. Things can be done right now." Kingsley said.

Blake got up and came to the coat rack near the room door where there was a coat hooked. He grabbed the coat and wore it, saying, "So what are you waiting for?"

...