[Toru Amuro] Those years when I worked at Poirot

Five years ago, Ohio, USA.

This morning, as usual, Frank rode his old bicycle that creaked in every part, delivering letters along the streets in southeast Phoenix.

For him, this day was no different from any other day.The eggs for breakfast still smell like sulfur, the coffee my wife makes is still too watery, and my grandson has drawn a map of America on the bedsheets—I must ask my son to take him to see Dr. Mary next week, he is almost seven years old Why are you still wetting the bed?

He carried a large package of letters and posted them door to door.When you see someone active on your lawn, say hello loudly, and get the same loud response.

Someone once joked that the early morning in Phoenix Town was awakened by Frank's loud voice and car bells.

It's been smooth sailing.There are not many letters to each other these days, mostly bills and advertisements, so when he sorted the letters, he paid extra attention to the personal letters addressed to Mr. Palmer.

The envelope is very thin, it seems to be only a piece of paper, with flamboyant signatures, but the mailing address is still clear, from Virginia.

Mr. Palmer lived a little further on the outskirts of town, and Frank would have saved half an hour's ride without his letters.

Therefore, Frank, who could have finished the delivery before the hot July sun rose, could not help cursing the sender secretly in his heart.

But he wouldn't scold Mr Palmer because he knew he was a hero.

Mr. Palmer is not a local, but settled here with his wife and two lovely sons after retirement.Although he is retired, Mr. Palmer is only in his 40s. It is said that he used to be a policeman or other similar occupations. He has won numerous medals and saved many people from evil.

A very loved and respected man.This can be seen from his calm and humble appearance and good demeanor.The people in the town admired their family very much.

He didn't feel anything unusual until he turned into the trail outside the farm, but he felt a fishy and spicy smell in the air.

As the car pulls into Mr. Palmer's farm, Frank begins to feel uneasy.

The farm was dead, and swarms of blowflies circled the half-open doors and windows like black clouds.

Frank applied the handbrake and stopped five meters away from the door.

He started to feel scared.A fear born of foreboding.

A voice in his head told him not to go in, while another voice kept urging him to go in quickly.

While struggling, he had already moved to the door. He yelled the names of Frank and his wife while pushing the door open.

Then, he saw hell.