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post - mail
postbox - mailbox
postman - mailman
lift - elevator
(police) inspector - detective
holiday - vacation
flat - apartment
block of flats – apartment building 
tights – panty hose
colour - color
favourite - favorite
grey - gray
neighbour - neighbor

When Rick returned from his sunny vacation in Spain it was raining in New York. Plastic bags, empty hamburger boxes and cigarette packs floated along the streets of Manhattan. 
‘This looks like Benidorm’ thought Rick, the dirty gray color of New York in the rain depressed Rick even more.
Rick entered his apartment building carrying his suitcase. His mailbox was full of letters. He looked through his mail as he took the elevator to his apartment on the 13th floor. 
‘One electric bill.’
‘One gas bill.’
‘One telephone bill.’
‘One Hung Lo Chinese special lunch offer.’
‘One credit card statement.’
‘One free home delivery at Pedro’s Pizza.’
and three of his neighbors letters which had been put in Rick’s box by mistake. ‘Wow,’ thought Rick, ‘I’m a really popular guy.’

Sticky Vicky, Rick’s neighbor, lived across the hall. She was a cocktail waitress in a reggae club in Greenwich Village. Rick liked Vicky and they often drank whisky and talked when they had trouble sleeping.
Rick knocked on Vicky’s door, and to his surprise it opened immediately. Rick left his suitcase in the hall and walked into Vicky’s room. He wasn’t prepared for the horror he found inside. 

Sticky Vicky was naked on the sofa, her eyes were open but she was clearly dead. Her lips were blue and the beige carpet was red with her blood. Her wrists were cut but it was not suicide. As Rick examined her body he saw that she had been raped and strangled with her own nylon panty hose. Rick called the police.

Within minutes Vicky’s apartment was full of the blue uniforms of the N.Y.P.D. and detective Murphy was questioning Rick.
‘Did you have an intimate relationship with Vicky Davidovich?’
‘What do you mean ‘intimate’ ? Sticky was my neighbor.’
‘Did you have sexual relations with her?’
‘Hell no, we just talked, drank whisky.’
‘Where were you last night Mansworth?’ 
‘Jesus, Murphy give me a break, I just got back from vacation in Spain. Here are the tickets.’
Rick showed his plane tickets to the detective.
‘Okay Mansworth, but don’t leave New York. I need to get a statement from you.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Rick, ‘Just knock on my door Murphy, I live across the hall.’

Rick threw his suitcase on the bed and poured himself a drink. He sat on the sofa and tried to think of people Sticky Vicky knew. He decided to go to the reggae club and ask around. But first he needed a hot shower.

Cool Bob Marley sounds met Rick as he walked into ‘Dreadlocks’ and ordered a drink at the bar. The sweet smell of marijuana smoke filled the club. The barman was a big, muscular Rastafarian. 
‘Yah man, I know Sticky Vicky, she’s a cool chick. Who are you, her father?’
‘I’m her neighbor,’ said Rick, ‘ or was, she was killed yesterday, murdered in her apartment.’
‘Jesus, poor kid.’
‘Did she have any special friends here in the club, men she spent a lot of time with?’
‘Yah man, all of us. Most of the men in the club, the customers and the staff. Sticky was our favorite waitress.’ Said the barman.

Rick questioned everyone in the club, but they all had alibis for the previous night. He had no clues.

It was 6.30am when Rick left the club and he was tired. He hadn’t slept properly for over forty-eight hours. He called a cab and as it arrived outside his apartment building the sun was rising over central park. He paid the driver and looked for his keys. The mailman stopped next to Rick and started to put letters in the different mailboxes of Rick’s building. ‘Vicky won’t be opening her mail today.’ Thought Rick
‘Morning’ said the mailman
‘Hi there!’ said Rick, ‘You’re a new guy, aren’t you?’
‘No, just covering for Bud. He didn’t show up for work this morning. My boss tried calling him, but he must be really sick because he didn’t even answer his phone.’
‘Uh huh. Tell me’ said Rick, ‘What’s Bud’s last name?’
‘Wiseman. Bud Wiseman. Strange guy. Only been working a month or so, doesn’t speak much.’
‘Thanks.’ Said Rick, ‘Take it easy pal.’ 
‘Yeah, have a nice day.’ Said the mailman.

Rick entered his apartment and walked straight to his phone. He rang the N.Y.P.D. and asked for detective Murphy.
‘Murphy, it’s Rick Mansworth. Listen, about the Davidovich murder, maybe you should talk to Bud Wiseman, Sticky Vicky’s mailman………’

La Mansión del Inglés.
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