6 What an interesting old man!
I arrived in front of the dusty door of that old printing house, I hit the glass with my fist, but I had no answer, I approached the face to the dusty glass trying to see if the old man was still inside.
I didn't see anyone.
<< "Young man! Here again?" >> - Said a voice behind me; I started and turned quickly: it was the old man, who with a huge smile motioned me to enter.
I entered again among all those newspapers, books and papers now dusty for some time; trying to find the title I had already seen.
<< "Tell me boy, why are you here? Do you need help?" >> - The old man asked me
<< "I need some information if you don't mind" >> - I replied then
<< "Of course my dear, I'll prepare some tea then" >> - He said moving into a small room
While he was preparing the tea, I browsed through the many newspapers that I saw stacked: "Zampa is the winner of the 1978 Dog Race"; "Trouble in Port Millsword, storm coming"; all useless titles, but I found, under all this garbage, two interesting titles:
"New Penitentiary Opens: Jason Mitcherwills Director"
"What's Wrong with the Penitentiary: Crazy Jason Mitcherwills?"
"Nightmare over! The prison stops working!"
"Perfect" - I thought - "These are just for me"
I took them quickly and hid them under my jacket, putting them in my sleeve.
<< "And here is your tea my dear, tell me, what do you want to talk about?" >> - The old man asked handing me the cup of tea
<<"Would you mind telling me the rumors that circulated around the penitentiary?" >> - I asked fearful of a negative answer.
<< "Are you really curious about this story, huh?" >> - He said laughing - << "Okay, I'll tell you what they told us: you see in 1957 a few miles outside the town a man, Jason Mitcherwills, opened a penitentiary, I was still young, therefore, what I know are country tales. ">> And he stopped;
<< "Please, continue" >> - I said nodding my head;
<< "You see what we were told were macabre and senseless stories, inmates tortured with their families, left to fast, disappeared people, it all seemed so real given the madness of those who worked there ..." >> - I interrupted him saying - << "But then is the whole story true?" >>;
<< "See son I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it would seem a hoax, those men found themselves drug addicts in a certain sense" >> - He replied and added - << "That's why I tell you not to believe all this nonsense" >>;
Disappointed, I was disappointed by those words, my story, finally seemed in my hands, instead, it flew away, like nothing.
At that point I put down the cup in which there was the tea, got up and went out without saying a single word.
I went back to the central, entered the door and found myself in front of the young policeman who raised his hand and greeted me;
<< "Rest soldier" >> - I said annoyed and continued:
<< "Where is the commander?" >>;
<< "In your office Mr. Witchwood" >> - He answered;
And without saying anything I went to the commander's office, opened the door and closed it behind me, without speaking, sat down in the armchair in front of his desk and said:
<< "Did he take me for a fool?" >> - I asked;
<< "I really don't understand what are you talking about, Mr. Witchwood" >> - He answered, raising his eyebrow as if he didn't know anything about it;
<< "The story he proposed to me, they are all stupid country stories, unfounded rumors, the only things you have are the words of drug addicts who worked in the prison." >> - I began to say in a dull tone, with a rage inside that made me want to break whatever came within range;
<<"Mr. Witchwood, you talked to civilians right? Did you read the police report? If that weren't enough, come with me tomorrow, I'll take you to an old friend" >> - He started talking in a calm voice and with a smile similar to a haughty grimace, as if to make fun of me;
<< "Mr. Grymm, I hope it's not another story, I'll take the file, I prefer to read it in my room." >> - I said threateningly;
<<"Take well, there is no problem." >> - He replied with a smile.
So I had the file for this "famous" HP-01 case delivered and went back to my room.
Each time, returning to that inn was a punch in the stomach, I entered and climbed the stairs without even turning to the hateful old woman:
<< "Ehm ... Mr. Witchwood, excuse me, what are you doing? Pass without saying goodbye?" >> - She said sitting on that chair without even taking her eyes off her knitting;
<< "Excuse me, I was lost in thought, it will be fatigue, good evening." >> - I answered hinting a clearly forced smile;
<"Mmh ..." >> - He replied with his usual nod;
I snorted and continued to my room.
I struggled to open the door, threw the file on the small table and went to bed.
The next morning, awake from dawn, I decided to take a leisurely stroll to the police station to meet Grymm. I looked at every corner of the streets that led me to the building I was looking for. At that hour the town was even more silent.
However, I noticed people never seen before, I stopped to observe them; I think they were bakers, even if I didn't know of a bakery in the village, I stopped to observe them for a few minutes, until they finished loading the bread.
Continuing my walk I continued to see the old houses of the place, so old as to seem uninhabited; I passed into the square, near the fountain, stopped and observed that the water was scarce now.
I retraced some of the roads I have already taken before.
At one point, while walking I got lost, retracing the road in reverse, an anxious man, with a sweet and gentle face, was sitting on the balcony on a chair covered by what seemed to me a blanket.
From there up, he called me: << "Young man! Excuse me, are you looking for something?" >>.
<< "Hi, yes, I'm looking for the police station, but I think I'm lost, these streets seem all the same" >> - I replied.
<< "Look, the road cannot be simpler from here, you just need to get to the end of the avenue and turn left, then always straight!" >> - he said giving me enormous help.
"Thank you very much!" >> - I thanked and with a wave of my hand I greeted the man and headed to the police station.
Continuing along those narrow streets, I finally arrived at the closed police station.
I sat scribbling in my notebook while I waited for someone to finally open the police station doors.
Perhaps an hour passed when the young policeman arrived with his bicycle, took out the keys from his pocket and opened the doors.
Without even noticing me he immediately went inside, he seemed worried about something.
I entered immediately after him trying not to make a noise and start observing him; in panic he rummaged through all the papers that were on each of the desks.
Clearing my throat first, I said:
<< "Excuse me, is Commissioner Grymm not here?" >>.
He didn't hear me, so I asked again, with no answer.
I shouted trying to make myself heard. The young man stopped and turned to me as if terrified
<< "The ... the inspector will arrive shortly" >> - he answered.
<< "Have you lost something? Need a hand?" >> - I asked offering my help.
<< "Don't worry, I just lost a report" >>.
I sat down on a chair, and waited there for the inspector, passing the time observing the young policeman as he looked agitated for that report.
About ten minutes went by when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned and saw Grymm, with a folder in his hand.
"Good morning, I see that he is an early riser, come to my office, I finish filling out the paperwork and I will be with you immediately" >> - he said with his usual smile on his face.
<< "Good morning Commissioner, I'll join you immediately" >> - I answered.
So I got up, looked at the policeman again, and followed the inspector into his office.
I sat down in one of the armchairs in front of his desk as Grymm put down the folder he carried under his arm.
I waited for about 5, maybe 10 minutes before Grymm finished and we finally got out of the station.
We walked on foot through the redundant streets of the village, and we finally arrived at the house of this elusive friend that Grymm wanted to introduce me to.
We rang the bell of the old stone house and waited.
It was an old gentleman who opened the door who greeted us with a smile.
<< "I see that he found the police station at the end, better this way" >> - He said without even saying goodbye.
I was slightly surprised when I later realized that the man was the old man sitting on the balcony that same morning.
We entered the house, the first room we found in front of us was a very cozy little living room, with a small fireplace, armchairs and a small table with a bottle of whiskey on it perhaps.
The man, very kindly, made us sit on the two-seater sofa in front of the fireplace, instead he took a seat on one of the side armchairs, covered his legs and began to pour the contents of the bottle on the coffee table into three glass glasses .
<< "So, tell me, what brings you to this old man?" >> - He said handing us a drink.
<< "Avrahàm, I brought here a friend interested in the story of Jason Mitcherwills and I thought that maybe you could help him, if you feel like it" >> - Grymm replied without even hesitating.
<< "And why is he interested in this story? First of all, however, I introduce myself, I am Avrahàm Tabet and I have lived here since 1942, as you will understand from my name, I am Jewish, I moved here after escaping from a concentration, instead you, young man, what brings you here? ">> - He told without the slightest hesitation.
I, slightly shocked to receive this information all at once, replied:
<< "My name is Edward Witchwood, I'm a reporter for a magazine dealing with mystery, I was sent here when my boss found out about that gloomy out of town jail and I'm looking for information about it" >>.
<< "Well well, I understand what you want to know, I'll be happy to tell you everything then, as long as you're ready to believe me" >> - the old man immediately retorted.
The man settled into the chair, spread the blanket back on his legs, put down his glasses, sipped the whiskey and said with a very serious face:
<< "Perfect, start taking notes then" >>.
"What an interesting old man!". I exclaimed to myself.
