Safe House

Doodle squat.

So there! Make me out to be some sort of theftful jerkwad, huh?

Brave? No, just angry. Very, very angry.

Can't even swear properly, there are ears around. They hear very well, and report what they can.

When one has debts, one must do whatever one can to tackle future unemployment. We were allowed to, after all. So forget your nasty thoughts.

Who, me? An annoyed servant. The master allowed me to take my payment, but chose to look the other way when the gold vases were also taken. They were worth seven mortgage payments, not gonna squabble about the “theft versus wages earned” argument.

Also got the old tables and tchotchkes from some of the rooms. Enough to sell for a long stretch, so we can relax on that score.

Worth the hell he puts us through? Not sure. Hard to tell, here. Master runs hot and cold, can't fathom why he would want us to kowtow, then pay us to do so. Back and forth, can't keep to one way or the other.

Confused? Us too.

Someone offed the master the other day. Maybe?

We are muddled, to say the least.

Don't know who can say what, to whom, where to go. What to do.

We are lost.

Master was our world, and now gone. We don't even know the real name, just – Master.

Can't wrap my head around the mess.

And you are here... to learn who snuffed our boss?

Good luck!

We are not a cult, but we are... Well, we are... Hunh.

Cult, you say? Okay then. Don't see that, myself, but hey, you do you.

We do what Master wants. Well, er, past tense. Whatever he wanted. Can't say the dead word yet, too soon.

That one? Her? Nah. Too shy. Cooks, cleans, keeps the house so neat. Happy here? Sure.

Them? Don't know them well, really, together they saw to the Out stuff. You know, lawn, garden, cars. The rest of us don't do Out stuff. We stay surrounded by house. Walls are comfortable.

Yeah, we're those what-you-call-thems. We don't do Out, we don't do people. Don't talk much, too. We read, we do computer stuff, we work from home, and we do what Master says.

No swears, Master says so.

Nope. Not even now.

Use my eyes? Why? Look for objects out of place?

Oh. Okay. Um. Well, objects got sold, lots of them. Can't lose the house. Save money, keep the house, keep our safety.

What do you want from me?

Beacuse you want the murderer, we all have to suffer your probes? Not a good look.

We don't care who wasted whom. We want our safe house. We don't know you, and we don't care.

Reasons?

Oh, easy – Master decreed servants shouldn't have personal stuff. Master wanted me to destroy my box, her books. They brought a slew of car parts, those three are related and toted backpacks of goods and boxes of cloth. They make our clothes. Very handy, so useful!

Master says we should test our resolve.

Usually when we pay no heed, he forgets. We kept our stuff. Master has crazy thoughts, Master loses control, Master sleeps, Master no longer goes nuts.

Back and forth, back and forth. We lay low when Master would get unbalanced.

Yes, we are all mad here. Doesn't that book say those words? We don't want to leave our wonderland we made for ourselves. Master was strange, but we all got along.

Maybe, no one actually hurt our Master?

Why say that?

Because none of us hated Master.

Master wanted a safe space too. He was as scared of Out as we are. Unfortunate fall? Heart stopped? Unknown tragedy? Freak of nature? Natural causes?

We came from the world, we have computers, we know some stuff. But not enough to plan to hurt Master.

We can bury Master here. We have a large basement. He would not want to be Out. Oh, now that protects us from arrest, because we could have done that and never called you, you would not know Master was dead! We are off the hook!

One.. of us? Blame another?

That makes no sense. We stay home. We get along.

No. Master never asked that of us. Of any of us. Never.

We do not prey on each other. We were all broken by Out, we fled here, and here we stay.

Master protected us from Out. He could not protect us from the core of character he conveyed. The nucleus of who he was, and what happened before, came as both a burden and curse. As had happened to all of us, and we brought our own burdens from the Out. We dropped them at the door, for there was no room for such fears at home. Truly, they were unbearable.

We are safe from the world here.

Master was safe, too. And then he wasn't.

My heart hurts. We do not know what to do when Master can't order us around.

What do you mean, you don't know what to do about our presence here? We could not forecast an occurrence of such a catastrophe. We called you to help Master, not be held accountable for what you suppose may have happened.

Suspect? Conduct a probe? Are you mad, as well?

Sucks to be you, dude. You have really lost the plot.

Not even funny. You are back to the blame game, to accuse us of theft and murder.

You should not say such nonsense unless you have proof.

Betray?

You ask that? Of me? Of us? You're a B word.

See, you can't make me swear. Not allowed to use curse words. Sorry not sorry.

You are useless. Then leave. Go. Leave us alone, and we can mourn together.

You may not have the body!

You must gather more facts? Then send a card. Letters come to the house.

You do not threaten me.

Can't sleuth for yourself? You are not my master. You cannot order me around.

Then bye, now, see ya!

*****

Whew! That was close. Can't tell them we all helped, can we?

Master had no proper reason to order us all Out. Not that. Never that!

Now, how do we share the house and contents and not quarrel?