A few years ago, I lived in an large apartment complex in the city. The building was 10 stories high and my apartment was on the 8th floor. It was a bad area, with a lot of crime. I was planning to move out soon, so I never bothered to get to know any of my neighbors.
One Friday night, I came home from a hard day at work and I was feeling very tired. I got into the elevator and pressed the button for my floor. When the doors opened, there was a man standing there. He was dressed in a long overcoat and his hat was pulled down low over his eyes.
“Hello,” I said, trying to be polite.
The man didn’t answer.
As I got out of the elevator, he pushed past me roughly and got into the elevator and started pressing the buttons.
“What a jerk,” I muttered to myself.
I unlocked my apartment door and went inside. I went straight to the bathroom. While I was washing my hands, I happened to glance in the mirror and noticed something strange. There was a dark red stain on the sleeve of my shirt. It looked like blood.
Then, I remembered the rude guy who had bumped into me at the elevator.
It made me feel sick. I didn’t know where the blood had come from, but I had my suspicions. I immediately locked my front door. Then, i took a shower and threw the blood-stained shirt in the trash.
I didn’t sleep very well that night.
The next day was a Saturday and I had a date with an attractive young woman I had met. I was getting ready to leave when I heard my doorbell ring.
“Who could that be?” I muttered in irritation.
I was already late for my date and I didn’t want to waste more time.
Peering through the peephole, I saw a policeman standing outside.
“What is it?” I asked loudly, through the door.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Sir,” he said politely. “I wanted to ask you some questions. There was a murder last night in the apartment next door to yours.”
I was late for my date. I didn’t want to get involved.
“Sorry officer, I didn’t see anything,” I lied.
“But you may be able to help us,” said the policeman. “Did you see anybody suspicious? Can you at least open the door to talk?”
“I wasn’t at home last night,” I lied again. “Sorry officer, I can’t help you.”
“Alright, Sir,” the policeman responded. “Thank you for your time.”
He walked off down the hallway and I continued getting ready for my date.
For the next few days, I felt very nervous. My next door neighbor had been murdered. The neighborhood was really unsafe. I was glad I was moving out soon.
I also felt very guilty about lying to the policeman. After all, I had seen the murderer. Even though I hadn’t seen his face, perhaps there was something I could have told the police that would help them catch the killer. Sometimes crimes are solved by one little detail.
One morning, before went to work, I was wondering if the police had managed to solve the case. I turned on the TV and watched the news, but they didn’t mention anything about the murder.
When I was leaving for work, I noticed a bad smell in the hallway. It seemed to be coming from the apartment next door to mine.
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
I went to find the building manager and told him about the smell. When I mentioned the murder, he said there hadn’t been any murder in this building.
I convinced him to come back up to my floor. When he smelled the stench, he used his master key to open my neighbor’s apartment. Both of us were horrified by what we found.
My neighbor was on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. The smell was overpowering. He had been lying there for days…
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