Monday, December 8, 2008
It’s funny how things can work out, sometimes. Julie asked me to look out for a place for her blind friend to live last night. A new friend, apparently, because it’s not one I’ve met and I thought I knew all of Julies friends. I tried to look her up in the files but there was no listing whatsoever for a Jane Thrush.
I even tried the saints register, thinking that if this friend was a holy woman she might be so saintly as to escape the files of damnation altogether. But no. She’s not there either, leading me to assume she’s using a false name. I can’t find her like that. If I had her real name a reverse summoning would lead me straight to her or if I met her I could use her life essence* to track her birth name.
I found a house first thing. Pretty little detached with a mansard roof and communal parking. Odd, because it hadn’t sold despite being on the market for two months at a reduced price.** It was perfect for Julie’s friend because it was split into two flats – her friend could have the downstairs and the income from renting out the top one would pay for both. It didn’t dawn on me until I mentioned it to Julie that this was the house where her friend died last year. That explains the new door then. The previous occupier had fallen down the two stairs and been cut in two by the glass panel. The tenants of the downstairs flat died the same day from suffocation when their gas main broke.
With any luck, Harold should get the place for a song.
*We call this DNA nowadays, but sometimes the old names have more resonance.
**compared to other Laverstone propertied of that type and age.