I was a little out of breath, besides that my hands were a little sore holding this cake wrapper. Luckily we had got a taxi ride.
"Could you please explain a little? At least… don't leave me in a dark room.”
He looked at his watch.
"Just when it came, the light was brightest."
I said snorting, "Again you are like that. At least let me seek light from a distance, please?”
“While it's still a journey, let's hear your opinion. If you and I are the same, then that will explain our understanding position on this case. Well, at least not too far behind?”
I just nodded rather than nothing.
“Cases always have their own peculiarities. From the usual or not. One question that will clarify a few things. What do you find strange about this case?”
Mr. Cake placed the cake I brought in the middle between us.
"Writing that number?"
“Feline, the three of us also know that it's weird. The question is why do you find it strange?”
I didn't expect this to be like guesswork.
“Well, I mean why write such a confusing thing? We're not in the age of pre-literacy, after all there's no point in making such a strange message."
Mr. Cake just nodded slightly.
"It makes sense," he added. "then what again?"
"Her husband is Mrs Lombardi. Who is this person really? I mean what's a £10,000 calculator for? Moreover, computers are equipped with more sophisticated features, while calculators can be accessed with mobile phones. Isn't that enough for an admin job?"
“Logically, it does make sense. Good, carry on.”
Our car stopped right at the fork. Not a red light, but a traffic jam. Naturally, because at the same time as office hours.
"That woman. Mrs Lombardy."
"Oh? What's so strange?"
"She doesn't look like she's lying, but I just find it weird. From a distance I thought she was waiting for hes boyfirend, looking a little annoyed. I don't know, maybe I'm wrong too."
Again Mr. Cake nodded slightly. I felt he was laughing at me from the bottom of his heart.
"Almost."
"So? How?"
“Well, you've come a long way, Feline. But don't be sad, you'll get the light you're after when we get there.
After 40 minutes of what Mr. Cake takes about 27 minutes, as Dullingham is not that far from our shop. Even though it was in Suffolk, it still bordered Cambridgeshire.
I was quite amazed to see the Algar Drive housing. Unlike the moment we passed the front of Bakehouse Hill which actually looks comfortable with a not too big building, or Taylors Field which is a little better.
Algar Drive, a complex that looks fresh and serene, is far more than comfortable, even if the roads for vehicles such as cars or delivery trucks are arranged in a rather uncluttered area. A building that describes that its owner is not an ordinary person. Well, at least Mrs. Lombardi, with her frequent overseas work somewhat missed.
We got out of the taxi.
“It's a fairly quiet complex. I don't think we need to disguise ourselves like this, Mr. Cake."
Mr. Cake ignored me and headed straight for a two-story house with a garage and a view of symmetrically cut green grass.
I immediately headed for Mr. Cake, with a bit of squeezing in the wrapper of this fairly large box. As I expected, the house was tightly closed.
“So… are we going to find a taxi?”
““As usual, Feline, you don't stop talking a lot, eh?What is it for?” Mr. Cake wiped the door down to the handle.
I was shocked when I saw Mr. Cake slightly blackened.
Mr. Cake knocked on the door.
"Excuse me! We, from Moncake shop, would like to take an order of a large size Red Velvet Cake!”
"Eh? Didn't we bring chocolate cake? And this is only three pieces left?”
"Feline, follow the procedure, don't argue too much," He said calmly but absolutely.
I'm getting bored, considering this has the potential for nothing. Well, if the handle has made Mr. Cake blackened, why did he knock expecting people to come?
Mr. Cake still keeps knocking. The beat got louder. I'm a bit worried that his hand is firmly pushing a bit. I looked around, my heart was still relieved.
Because no one was passing by. Honestly, it embarrasses and annoys me quite a bit.
The surprising thing happened, The door opened slowly. We entered the place. The room is quite comfortable and spacious. I put this big thing on the table, then sat on the soft sofa. While Mr. Cake paid attention to the back door handle. He turned the lock on the door.
The moment my hand groped this nice sofa, I felt like there was something feels dusty.
"Eh?" I was surprised when my hand turned black.
I immediately stood up and patted my bottom.
"Hey, how come it's so dusty?"
"I don't know, it's been quite a while."
We go deeper. I saw the floor was also dusty which was quite disgusting. Even though the chandelier still looks shiny and nice. We headed for the back door. I doubt my hands are dirty when I want to turn the door knob. Mr. Cake that represents me.
"Why is it so clean?" said Mr. Cake with disappointed.
I don't think that's bad news? After all, if this was my house, I would turn on the vacuum all day long. Or if I use force, I'll be very friendly with the duster. Then I mop all day long. This really makes me unbearable.
We return to another somewhat in-depth corner. Above the back drawer, we see some calculators. There are a few still with their wrappers, but I tried to light up the ones that look a bit thick and sophisticated.
"What? I just found out that calculators can output graphs?” I asked curiously.
Mr. Cake pressed another button which made the screen surprise me even more. It displays adequate gameplay though not as good as console graphics in general.
“You can play games too. I'm a little reminded of Miss Flemming's."
I don't understand why this ancient thing could have somewhat advanced features. I'm starting to understand why it can have such an exorbitant price.
It was getting late, after looking around the second floor, one room which was quite spacious, luckily clean and tidy, we finally ended this unreasonable observation. At least for me. After all Mr. Cake also again - again miscalculated. We took a taxi to Cambridge.
"Is there a reason we did it earlier?"
He nodded confidently. As expected, not all geniuses always calculate correctly. I'm starting to realize that it's too much for Mr. Cake is not a good thing. That's because fellow humans are bound to make mistakes.
I sighed, my tired face showing a deep disappointment.
“Your thinking is a bit too much, Feline. Yes I can read it clearly. But, Cake, this person who is not only handsome and noble-hearted, will never let women down. Even a child and innocent like you.”
"Oh yes? Then, can you explain? Or will it be like the same again? Feline to-"
Mr Cake's ring finger lightly covered my mouth, just to keep me from saying too much.
“The second rule, focus on the results of the observations. If that's possible, dissect the contents. There's no such thing as plausible weirdness."
ns 15.158.61.54da2
