5) The mysterious mystery...
I was petrified. I took the paper and put it in my pocket. Who’s writing was it? What was going on? Surely, there was some mystery I didn’t know about…
But I wasn’t naïve or simple-minded. At that time, I was already working in a library. I don’t know if you have ever been a librarian, but you don’t have a lot of work to do. In fact, except helping a few customers time to time, I just had to sit at my desk all day long. I had all the time in the world to read. And gosh, did I read! I was very fond of crime novels. I began with the mistress of this literary genre, Agatha Christie. And then I read everything I could, from The Hound of the Baskervilles to The Talented Mr. Ripley. I don’t want to brag or anything, but I think I would be an excellent detective. I know all the tricks and knacks.
But let’s go back to that morning in Raphaël’s house. When I saw the paper, I knew I had to investigate the case. Whoever wrote that word needed my knowledge, my sense of deduction and observation. I put my private detective cap on and begun to observe very carefully the other members of the house…