Holding the tripod in front of him like a torch, Tony walked from the street to the front of the house. The door was unlocked and no one appeared when he opened it and stepped inside. He passed through a foyer, the wooden floor creaking under the soles of his feet. He briefly considered a winding staircase with a white balustrade, but opted for what lay to the right instead.
Tony turned and entered a dining room. High-backed chairs with gold upholstery sat like minor kings around a heavy wooden table. A dusty chandelier hung overhead. Beneath it, a candleholder centerpiece had acquired a crown of red wax. The room beyond was an open parlor, a thickly carpeted place with oversized easy chairs and handsome stonework around the fireplace. In the center of that room sat a man in a wheelchair.
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