Thursday, 13th July 1939 

Am utterly worn out. An incredible thing occurred in the small hours of the morning resulting in the entire household, and indeed the entire street, being roused from their beds. I have never seen such a frightful collection of exhausted, grumpy faces swathed in ridiculous combinations of dressing gowns and heavy boots, rollers in hair and sleeping caps perched perilously angular atop balding heads.

Around three in the morning, an almighty screech rang out followed instantly by a crash. It was particularly loud for those of us in Unc’s house because, as it turned out, the incident occurred directly outside. Some poor fellow’s car had been smashed into by another. It was delightfully sombre. Made all the more sombre when the second car burst into flames of a sudden.

Many of the residents and servants retreated to their homes shortly afterward but Unc placed a call to a colleague of his in the London Fire Brigade and we waited until the firemen arrived and extinguished the flames.

How the fates work! Once the fire was put out, Unc, ever the detective inspector, was faced with not only two destroyed cars but a body to boot. A body! It was burnt to a crisp and sublimely dead indeed. I am so excited I barely know where I am as I write this. What girl does not dream of finding a corpse directly on her doorstep? I do hope he was murdered.

Unc declared me a ghoul when I expressed this wish to him. I replied that he is a fine purveyor of moustaches.

“I thought we had begun a game of stating the obvious?” I then explained, upon his confused expression.

Shall update further once more information is at hand.

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