The front door opened directly into Shaun’s living room/kitchen space, which was a restrained and sparsely decorated room. The living room area had an old sofa, a mismatching armchair, and a wooden TV module pushed up against one of the walls. The kitchen area, which was accessible via a large opening on the wall to the right, had an old fridge, a stove unit, a microwave that sat on the counter and a small Formica table at its south corner. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes.
The air inside the apartment was saturated with the smell of mold and food gone bad. It was so heavy that, even with their masks on, Hunter and Garcia cringed as they stepped into the apartment.
Hunter checked behind the door. The reason for the subtle resistance was a small pile of unopened mail.
‘It looks like he hasn’t been home for a lot longer than just four or five days,’ Hunter said, as he picked up the mail from the floor.
Garcia walked past him to look around the living room.
On the floor, next to the armchair, there were several empty bottles of beer, a few mugs and three plates with food leftovers that had long hardened onto the porcelain. A few flies were hard at work, trying to feed on the leftovers, but even they seemed to be struggling with it. On the Formica table, there was a small mountain of empty microwavable dinner boxes and takeout food containers – mainly Chinese and pizza – with even more flies buzzing around everything.
‘How can someone be such a slob?’ Garcia asked, staying well away from the table. ‘I’m actually scared of opening that fridge and that trashcan.’ He gestured toward the kitchen.
Hunter was still looking through the mail.
‘He obviously wasn’t married,’ Garcia continued. ‘Or had a girlfriend, a partner… whatever. At least not a live-in one.’
‘According to the file we have,’ Hunter asked, ‘his body was discovered four days ago, right – June 16th?’
‘That’s correct,’ Garcia confirmed, turning to face Hunter. ‘Why? What have you got?’
‘Just bills and junk mail,’ Hunter explained. ‘Nothing of any real interest, but the earliest of these, according to the postal stamp, is the electricity bill. It’s dated May 18th.’
Garcia frowned. ‘It’s June 20th today. So he’s been missing for almost a month?’
‘Something like that,’ Hunter confirmed. ‘It’s been over four weeks since this bill was delivered. Gas and electricity bills are usually delivered the day after they’ve been posted. He could’ve been missing for longer than that.’ He chose one of the envelopes and ripped it open.
‘What’s that?’ Garcia asked.
‘His cellphone bill.’ Hunter quickly checked the front of the envelope. ‘It was posted to him at the end of last month – May 31st.’
‘And?’
‘And his last communication using his cellphone was also made on May 18th.’ Hunter met Garcia’s stare. ‘That’s it. Absolutely nothing after that – no calls, no texts.’
‘So hehasbeen missing for about a month.’
‘It looks that way, yes,’ Hunter agreed.
‘And no one has reported him missing?’ Garcia’s head tilted to one side. ‘A friend? His boss? The neighbor? No one?’
‘I don’t think he’s got a boss,’ Hunter said, flipping back through the pile of envelopes in his hands. ‘A few of these are addressed to “Daniels Plumbing Ltd”. He worked for himself.’ His eyebrows lifted at Garcia. ‘But we don’t know if he was reported missing or not. We haven’t checked yet.’
‘Say no more,’ Garcia said, reaching for his cellphone and stepping outside the apartment for a moment.
Hunter returned the pile of envelopes to the floor and took a moment to look around the rest of the living room.
‘Nope,’ Garcia informed Hunter, as he re-entered the apartment. ‘Shaun Daniels was never reported missing.’
‘Yeah,’ Hunter said back, his eyes circling the room. ‘I’m not exactly surprised. He was a loner. Probably not that in touch with his family either.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Look around,’ Hunter replied. ‘There’s not a photo frame or photo in sight. Nothing here in the living room, though there are plenty of spaces on the TV module…’ He gestured toward the kitchen area. ‘And nothing stuck to the fridge either. I haven’t checked the rest of the apartment yet, but I’m willing to bet that we won’t find any kind of photos – not of himalone, not of him with his parents, or family, or partner… or anything. He lived alone. He worked alone.’ He indicated the takeout and microwavable dinner boxes on the table. ‘He ate alone. He probably went out alone too.’
‘Well, you don’t really have any photos displayed in your apartment,’ Garcia volleyed back. ‘Except for that one of you and your dad.’
Hunter looked back at him with a look that simply said: ‘Think about it.’
