How About Seven? ✔

11. Spellcaster

Our mother when she died comma tall East Indian tree. 6-mile radius.

After undergoing Hayley's Translation Services -

46, Sandalwood Heights. Distance from school, 3.72 miles. Distance from my house, 2.55 miles.

Onward and upward! To Narnia and the North!

It was the next day, Friday, last day of my first school week. I managed to make it through without much hassle. Mr Hood didn't make an appearance and Miss Queen Bee took to ignoring me, though I did catch her eye once. She sent an unsettling smile my way, making me feel as if she had something up her sleeve. But I had no time for that though, simply because I had bigger worries - like my studies for example.

I had no problems with the languages - English was fine with me, and French was a beginner course. It was the Sciences that were starting to take their toll. I doubted kinematics and dynamics could assist me in retrieving the will, and I was pretty sure the atomic number of the element neon is 10 couldn't help either. I was struggling with my assignments and had to resort to asking the Internet, and then copying and paste the answers. I doubted I could keep up the act much longer.

But right now I had to focus on 46, Sandalwood Heights. I needed to find out who the owner of that residence was. If I only I could get his personal details. . . then I would have a start at least. I could then assemble a biography of some sorts and figure out how to link him to Black and Tan. Eric had mentioned an unmarked third party. Unmarked meaning he didn't have a tattoo, which meant he wasn't part of Black and Tan. Could that unmarked third party stay at 46 then?

So many questions, so little answers.

I had two choices. Either I sneak into the house unknown to snoop around, or I hide in plain sight. From what I had Googled about Sandalwood Heights, sneaking in was near impossible. 

Option 2 it is then. 

After school, I had a shower and changed into a jeans and shirt. I even took along the Pambrooke varsity jacket - though I didn't wear it, too hot for that - that had once belonged to Storeroom Stalker. There were two reasons for me to do so - one, it further cemented my look as a Pambrooke student; two, there was a possibility that Storeroom Stalker was the occupant of the house, and I hoped I might provoke some reaction. 

I had the usual knife under my clothes as well as another one slit under the waistband of my jeans. I wasn't going to take any chances, not when this address might be the home of Storeroom Stalker. I had never used guns, not due to my morals - you couldn't afford to have any in Blackcroft - but simply because a gun was loud. Trust me, a silencer makes it anything but silent. What a silencer does is to make the gunshot sound like something else, for example a staple gun working, or a car backfiring. It's still noisy, except your brain doesn't interpret it as a gunshot. A knife made for closer and faster attacks.

With a stack of survey forms I had printed out, completed with the school logo, I took a taxi and had him drop me at the Sandalwood Heights guard house. I waved the survey forms at the security guard and claimed to be doing a school project. He let me in without a second glance.

I skipped in like a happy kid entering a Toys "R" Us store. Sandalwood Heights was a neighborhood, built exclusively for the rich kids. All the houses were large opulent bungalows. Each street only had about 4 to 5 houses, and man were they big. I made my way to number 43, and proceeded to knock on the door. I had been right about abandoning the idea of breaking in. All the houses had killer alarm systems, motion sensor lights on windows and doors; some even had a dog or two. There was constant video surveillance everywhere.