“Yeah… the one over there, Mr. Cakes."
My body feels sore. I had to ask Mr. Cake, the person I once called a bit of a flirty, to massage my waist and hands. Well, I feel he's a little bit responsible. This is because yesterday I didn't have time to take a bath, while my hands felt numb holding the wrapper.
“Huft…” he said wiping his sweat. "Feline, get used to taking vitamins before bed."
"I also have the same question."
I moaned a little in pain as he tugged at my finger. But it's the sound of bone thumping that gives maximum relief.
"Come to think of it, I forgot too."
“Yeah, forgot to buy. You remember? That day we should be shopping for something.”
Mr. Cake’s face suddenly became panicked.
“Blimey!” he said weakly. "Okay, we'll do that later."
I think Mr. Cake deliberately put the activity second, it turns out I'm a little sorry I didn't remind him.
"So what's next?" I asked.
He got up from where I was lying. I think it's still a bit long, but oh well. My body is pretty good.
"Any news from, signora?"
I took my phone from the top of the simple drawer. I checked the contents.
"Not yet."
Right after I said that, my phone rang a notification.
I sighed.
“Beep, beep, information change. Updated after a split second.” I said imitating a voice like a robot.
Mr. Cake hit my head lightly.
"What's in it?"
I explained to him that Mrs Lombardi had a new message from her husband. Mr. Cake told her to come quickly to our place, I wrote back to Mrs Lombardi's message.
"He said she'd be here in thirty minutes."
"Good,"
I followed Mr. Cake headed to his small office. He opened the letter again. His expression was frozen, his expression serious.
"I was thinking that if we can't just scramble the numbers and then combine them into a phone number, then can we translate them into letters?"
"Like how?"
I explained and gave an example to Mr. Cakes. But it was quite disappointing because I didn't think that it should be separated. While the confusing thing is that it can be read by one or two digits. After all, from the beginning it did not form a regular word.
"Let's just say it forms letters, but it doesn't explain why Monsieur Lombardi has capitalized the words 'End' and 'Local'. What's the matter with this letter?"
Mr. Cake massaged his forehead.
"Can we guess this is to tease his wife?"
“It was an outrageous and baseless act, Feline.”
Mr. Cake is right. I mean why would he do that? Wait a minute, after all what’s for Mr. Lombardi wrote the letter?, I thought.
Some time passed quickly and unnoticed, my cell phone rang. The message I read, I passed on to Mr. Cake that Mrs Lombardi had arrived, but she wondered why it was tightly closed.
We soon followed. Pulled by the rolling door by Mr. Cake, then I turned the key on the entrance. After that we went to Mr. Cake on the second floor. The woman seemed to be getting a little impatient. More precisely, it was like he was being chased by time.
“Pay attention and copy the clues! Then meet me at his residence," Mrs Lombardi read the message on her cellphone.
"So what does this mean?"
The woman showed the message, but Mr. Cake seemed to find no way out.
"I'll tell you later. Ah regarding yesterday, I still haven't concluded.”
The woman moved in a high pitched voice.
"What?! Didn't you promise before the third day?"
I explained to the woman gently.
“You guys lack information? That's all I got!” Mrs. Lombardi didn't seem to budge.
I also persisted.
“The problem is that we lack information as to what your husband's motives are. Then whether there is a problem that is close or not. And most importantly and oddly enough, your husband had to send a letter with an odd number? Why not just be honest? Well, for example, can you file for divorce?” My voice is no less high.
The moment it was thrown, I was a little sorry. Even Mr. Cake glared at me without blinking.
"Very good, very good," the woman added with a relentless look on her face. “I will inform the office to postpone the schedule to the day after tomorrow. I hope tomorrow will be the answer."
The woman came down the stairs, then left.
I who was in a frozen position, plus the eyes of Mr. Cake that glared at me all the time. This could be my last day working here.
He approached me, his hands resting quickly and rather roughly on my shoulders.
"What did you say, Feline?"
I looked away a little.
"Er-yeah, th-that's why I beg-"
“Cakes is imbecile! Why didn't I think straight!" Mr. Cake spontaneously mocked himself.
Mr. Cake smiled widely. Without delay he focused on the letter. He wrote something down. But I still don't understand what he just got. He wrote something on paper. I wanted to ask that, but Mr. Cake has been trapped in a world of its own.
Now I close the door and let him focus. As I walked down the stairs, I didn't forget I also brought a small book and a ballpoint pen. When Mr. Cake is already like that, I'm sure he already knows the answer.
First, why is Mrs. Lombardi in such a hurry. From the beginning did she wait for her husband? Then why is he pacing there?
Second, the letter. What I don't understand at all is the content. Why the number? Does someone associate something with a job because of this? Then like Mr. Cake and I wonder, what's a £10,000 calculator for?
Third, observation. I don't understand this part at all. I mean, one thing that was odd was that the door wasn't locked. The house is quite dirty, but fortunately there are no cobwebs in the net lamp.
All of these things, even though I wrote them, kept going round and round. I started to remember the two rules that Mr. Cakes say. Still doesn't help.
Until it was evening, Mr. Cake suddenly took me with him to the place yesterday. Mr. Chad even came on the scene, then a guy I didn't know. What I didn't expect was Miss Pussett, who I don't know when she was involved. This time Miss Pusset was separated without Miss Pusscat. All of that happened quickly without answering the oddity I questioned.
I was shocked when the police pointed a gun at her. Meanwhile, one man who, if I watched carefully, was like the one in the black coat yesterday blowing a cigar with his slightly trembling hands. The problem is, why are our clients being arrested?
ns 172.69.58.3da2