Each day allowed him time to continue with his latest story.
This was going to be another bestseller. The worldwide success of his books and his international reputation, as a much read writer, allowed him to live in luxury. This book would maintain his current lifestyle. He continued writing… The house was in darkness when he arrived. She said it would be empty. She was right. Before he could enter using the key, he would also have to disarm the security system. Following her instructions this all went well, and within minutes he was standing in the front hall. His torch went on. It was a large house, but there was only one room that interested him. Upstairs, third door on the right. The master bedroom. The walk-in robe with its hanging plastic shoe pockets. Fifth pair of men’s shoes down. Brown brogues. Right hand shoe with the written combination for next time the house owner had a mental block with regards the safe’s combination. This was something the woman said was happening more often, now.
He had no idea how those who had hired him knew so much about the man’s affairs, but he didn’t need to know any of that. He just needed to get in, remove the jewellry from the safe and leave without disturbing anything. She had assured him that the place would stay empty for several weeks.
He was startled by a sudden…
The writer thought he would leave it there for a while. He clicked on save. The typing stick fell from between his teeth onto the table and he sipped water through a straw. He looked at the clock. Shower time soon. The only time he was free from his straightjacket.