The rank smell of neglect occupied every corner of the house. However because of the local sensitivities that had arisen due to the disappearance of the other houses on Cleveland Rd. The city authorities had decided that the house be kept standing for the time being. They had even spent a little money from the cities coffers fixing braces to the front verandas.
The Sheriff was not getting anywhere with his investigations. It seemed that not even a rat could be found at the other sites on this street, where forty-six houses had mysteriously disappeared over night. The officer was not a gambling man; but the supportive braces on old Mr Davison’s house reminded him of the one armed bandit machine at Ma Richards brothel, and at this moment the Sheriff would sooner be at the brothel playing the bandit machine.
How the hell did he produce a report into the disappearance of the houses, let alone one hundred and six people, twelve dogs, one cat and god knows how many rats. Perhaps the city could rename the road, as The Bermuda Triangle 2. The officer decided to visit Ma Richards and have a beer… “Now were the hell did I leave that car”.