Thursday 20th July, 1939 

The dead boy has been identified by his cousin (both Czech refugees). What a hideous waste to escape Nazi persecution, only to be murdered in the country you sought asylum.

Because as it turns out, he was indeed murdered. Unc is flummoxed. He returned early from the station today, interrupting me while I was ever so busy fitting a gas mask on his bust of Aristotle, and began raving some nonsense about the boy being struck across the head BEFORE he was placed into the doomed car.

“Do you understand what it is I’m saying, Genie?” he cried, almost furious with fate that a case of this nature be presented to him. “Filbury insists the chap was dead long before his car smashed into the other.”

“Corpses don’t drive cars,” I replied, or something surely as wise as that, but for some reason it did not help Unc’s mood.

The boy was struck across the rear of his skull with a thin, blunt instrument, which caused an immediate fracture and bleeding on his brain. Despite this horrific injury, Unc said he could have been alive for hours, possibly days after the impact!

I am just now retiring to bed following an intense exchange of ideas regarding how exactly a dead man managed to drive and crash a car into another. The boy lived just a little farther up the road however I never met him. I wonder if I had met him, what I might have said? Beware of low-hanging branches, perhaps. Avoid those folks clutching golf clubs and looking murderous.

We concluded that, surely, the only way this could have come about is a perfectly alive someone put his dead body in the car and set the vehicle off. I don’t recall witnessing anyone running away from the scene though. Unless they didn’t run away… unless they disguised themselves in full display; pyjamas and a horrified expression?

Might be living next door to a murderer. How delightful.

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