The Case of the Locked House

Read the first adventure of Shervin Foams here.

The coffee tasted burnt. It must be the milk. He took a sip again.
It is the milk, that had caused the bad taste in his coffee, the great detective decided.
The great detective was none other than Mr.Shervin Formes.
Mr.Shervin Formes was a simple detective when he came to the town of Mechir, a few years back. He did menial jobs and earned meagre wages.
Only after the death of his friend Mr.Peter Zaichst, he became well known.
He found out the murderer of his friend and after putting Mr.Berchus behind bars, he became famous overnight.
Soon, he started getting cases which were previously only handled by the old Mr.Remson.
He was more than delighted, and his visits to his friend, the barber, Mr.Bobson greatly reduced, to the dismay if the later.

Shervin Formes took the last sip of the coffee. Though the coffee has shown half of his taste buds the grave, the energy he got out of it remained the same. He felt better as soon as the first sip if the black coffee that he preferred.
He placed the cup on the table, and took a final glance at the papers before him. It contained hand written pieces of information of his writing, and some from
the police inspector Mr.Melkin.

Mr.Melkin along with his junior Inspector Mr.Cahethi had received a complaint about a tenant of the largest apartment complex of the city of Mechir.

Melkin was a man of great animosity towards all except for food, and his appearance greatly agreed with it. Cahethi had great ambitions before he joined the police force. His first appointment had been as a junior to Melkin, and he had been busy blaming himself since then.

When they had first received the complaint, Melkin ordered Cahethi to look into it.
On his way Cahethi went to the apartment, and knocked.
The door remained close, even after multiple attempts.
He decided that he will come again the next day.
The next day, both Melkin and Cahethi were unable to find the magic words for the door. So, they finally decided to break in.
They were in for a surprise.
No one was inside.
Melkin and Cahethi tried their best, at least Cahethi tried his best. But, being the lazy goose he was, Melkin sought the help of the great Shervin Formes.

Shervin Formes was not the least bit happy when he was presented the case. He had been busy for a week, and had decided to take a short rest. But, he couldn't refuse a case from the police.
More than the money, it was a matter of pride. After all, when we look into the bottom, pride is the only thing remaining, isn't it?
He went to the apartment and looked into it. It was a simple two bedroom apartment and nothing fancy. It carried the traces of a person having lived there. A few clothes in the basket, a few vessels drying. A few books.
Everything was few.
The apartment had only one exit and it was the front door. It had been locked from inside when the police had got in.

Then, sitting in his cozy office, he had pictured everything. The apartment had been rented in the name of Mr.Hector. A 30 year old, single male.
And that was the information he could get. The occupant must have been a recluse, for none of the tenants knew anything about him. The owner of the apartment said that Mr.Hector said he was a writer when he has rented the apartment. He had paid his rent in cash and the cash would reach his office every month on time. There had never been a delay.
And suddenly it was not so. The rent was not paid for the last two months. And when the owner had tried to get in touch with Hector, he was unsuccessful. And so, he had lodged a complaint.
Shervin Formes wrote in his file 'Everything looks perfect, except for the locked door.'
If he had run away, it adheres to the logic. But, how come he disappeared out of the locked room. And that remained an illusion.

Shervin Formes took an evening stroll through the city. He wanted to clear his head off the Hector case.
He decided to meet his friend Mr.Bobson at his shop. When he entered, Bobson was busy giving a piece of advice to an elderly gentleman about the art of maintaining a head full if hair. The old gentleman nodded away, and finally left combing his few strands of hair on his shiny bald head.
Bobson looked at his friend sitting in one of the chairs, and ignored him. But, Formes was a person not to get deterred.
He cleared his voice, and said loudly, 'So, Mr.Bobson, I heard you are doing well. How is your friend, the great and the genius detective, Mr.Formes doing?'

Bobson merely glanced at him, and without looking up from the hair of his customer, said in an equally loud voice, 'He must be doing well. But, the little one had run out of his luck.'

Formes knew where it was leading.
'Why do you think Formes is going out of luck, Bobson?'

Bobson said in between sounds of scissors cutting boldly, 'It is about the case of the locked house'

Shervin Formes had a smile playing in the corner of his mouth.
'May be Formes is near breakthrough'

Bobson came and sat near Formes, and asked, 'Are you? What do you think?'

'I am yet to file my final report, and I am sorry, I can't say yet.' Formes said trying to gain a reproachful look.

Bobson said in a low husky tone,' I think something is very wrong in here Formes. What if the room was really made to be looked locked? What if it was all a trap?'

Formes stared at the twinkling eyes of Bobson, and after a minute or so, started laughing his heart out.

'So, Bobson, you think it was all a trap? You have been reading too many detective novels. In reality, the truth is simpler than fiction. You will get to know soon. Motive is everything'

Bobson said, 'Motive might be hidden behind the simpler truth you are telling about. And, I am not saying this just to sound intelligent, though I do that a lot of times. You must consider that'

Shervin Formes smiled at his friend.
'I will Bobson. I will. Don't worry.'

The smile remained in his face. But, when he came out, the smile turned into anxiety, and he walked back, deep in thought.

And, in the distance he could see Mr.Robin, the owner of the apartment rented by Hector. He was coming opposite Formes, and by the look of him, he wanted to talk with Formes.

Formes looked at the man in disgust. A puresome loathing mixed with anger.

Mr.Robin smiled when he came near, and the disgust in Formes turned to a small smile.