Your brother texted you to look after his house and his cat while he's in India. The key's under the blue pot, he said. Sleep in the guest room, he said. But someone's already in the house, pale, tired, with a scratch across his knuckles and he says he's your brother's oldest friend, minding the place. He didn't know you were coming. He says his father is violent and he needs a few nights. He says don't go down to the cellar, the lock is broken.

Your brother is not in India.