House Trap - Funny story, serious message

The following is an original piece by T.M. Collins. It was first published by Quadrant in 1993. It says a lot about attitudes with respect to pets, privacy, and repairs. Very insightful.

Leaving the flat I noticed the Trebles hadn't taken in their milk. Must've had a wild night, I thought, reversing the car out. People of their age, in their seventies partaking in sexual activities that people half their age wouldn't do. The neighbours reckoned they had aids. I knew they did. Being the landlord I was able at times to enter the flats for routine checks. On one such occasion I found the aids, sexual aids in an old shoe box under their bed. When I found the box it was just protruding from under the bed. But it was none of my business what the tenants did as long as it was not illegal. The old pair also kept six mice as pets. Pets were against the rules but I let them have them for the company. I hoped someone would do the same for me if I was in a similar situation. Still couldn't believe it though - people of their age, behaving like young newlyweds. Driving off I soon forgot about my sexually active tenants. Getting to work was more important. Arriving home late I noticed a police car in Trev and Sheila Treble's driveway. Entering my home I wondered what might have happened. Before too long I saw two police officers walking up my pathway. They knocked at the door. I opened it. They stood there for a moment looking me over.   

"Mister Toby," asked the older of the two policemen. "Yes," I replied hooking my red suspenders over my shoulders and resetting my glasses on my nose. "Are you the landlord of these flats?" asked the sergeant. "Yes I am. What's the matter?" I asked. "The couple next door have been found dead. No suspicious circumstances. Left the gas on at the stove. We believe it was suicide. That has not been officially confirmed yet, but it is the most probable cause. We'd like to know if you heard anything or have any information that might help us." "Suicide. It couldn't have been. Not them. They wouldn't do such a thing," I answered in amazement. Maybe they died while they were having sex, I thought to myself. "No, I can't help you at all. Sorry," I continued. "Did you know they kept mice in there?" enquired the younger policeman. "Yes, I did. They were their pets," I answered. The younger policeman continued: "The man and woman were found prone in the act of lovemaking. What can you say about that?" "Nothing, I'm afraid," I said, embarrassed. "If you remember anything please contact us. Perhaps you might think why they would do such a thing. Thanks for the talk Mister Toby," said the sergeant. As they left I had a funny feeling there was more to this than what they had divulged.  

I had lunch and all the time wondered just why or how they could do such a thing during sex. Perhaps they were real crazies and I didn't know it. The lights were always left on at night, in fact all night. Putting my dishes away in the cupboard I imagined them being porn stars in their younger days. Just what would have Sheila looked like years back? There was a knock at the door. A funeral parlour attendant informed me they were moving the bodies. Next morning's paper reported the death of two elderly people, gassed to death in their flat. There was no mention of them having been in the middle of sexual relations when they died. The story stated they'd gone to bed and left on one of the knobs at their stove. It quoted the police having said it was a simple case of suicide. But why only one gas burner and not all six?  

I decided to visit the flat. Having no living relatives the Trebies had willed all their belongings to the local church. I'd received a call from the parish priest and he'd told me some parishioners would arrive early in the morning to clean out the flat. I wanted to check the place out before anything was removed. Plain curiosity, I suppose. Anyway I was the landlord. Inside I noticed nothing strange except four dead mice on the kitchen bench beside a loaf of bread. The Trebies released the mice at night. They believed the mice chased the cockroaches away. But there were six mice. Where were the other two? There was still a strong smell of gas in the flat as I walked through. I wasn't about to touch anything, with the police being involved and fingerprints and the two deaths. It was hard to accept that they'd killed themselves. Why would they do such a thing? Why? I decided to leave. Walking back into the kitchen I glanced across at the stove and was utterly shocked at what I saw. A mouse was running treadmill-like on one of the stove knobs. In front of my eyes the knob was slowly rotating, thereby turning the gas on. A week or so ago they'd asked me to fix a loose knob on the stove.