I shall never read another single detective story in my life

Early Saturday morning 3.30 am

The dog barks. I wake up. Mr Fox wakes up.
The loud doorbell voice bounces around the otherwise silent house.
Mr Fox goes to check out who's behind the door. It's not Granny Fox.
A strange, skinny, bearded man stands on the porch.
Mr Fox: Do you know anyone from here?
Me: Not really. Who is that?
Mr Fox: Well, it's some man. He's almost naked.

There really was a man. He was wearing just black underwear.
Man: Let me in!
Mr Fox: Who are you? What do you want?
Man: I want Saara!
Mr Fox: There isn't any Saara living here.
Man: She is there. I know!

The conversation went on and on. The naked man didn't believe she couldn't find Saara from our house.
Finally the man started to be desperate.
Man: Where is Saara then?
Mr Fox: I'm so sorry. We don't know her. Why are you naked? Who are you?
Man: I don't know.
Mr Fox: Where did you came?
Man: From Toivola of course!

The man didn't remember his name. He didn't know why he didn't have any clothes on. He just remembered he and Saara had moved away from Toivola.
I called my Mum.
Me: Do you know any Saara living at the neighbourhood?
Granny Fox: Oh. There is one living near the station.
Me: Saara lives near the station.
The naked man looks confused.
Man: Sounds familiar. Please, let me in.

He was somewhat blue in colour. It was + 6 ° C outside.
What could have we done? Let the strange, naked man to come in ?
But we didn't see what really was behind the door.
Maybe he was hiding an axe or a friend there?
Why was he knocking on the strange doors in the middle of the night?
Why wasn't he wearing any clothes?
It was easier to wash the blood away from the naked body, though.

On the another hand he was freezing.
I saw his blue, dead body in my mind.
I saw our axe-murdered bodies in my mind.
We threw a blanket from the window and called the police.
The man sat on the porch.
Man: Please. Let me in. I'm not bad. I'm really not a bad person.
Mr Fox: Sorry, no.
Man: Okay. Could we just have a chat then? What kind of music do you listen?

We didn't hear what was his favourite piece of music. The police came and took him away.
Early in the morning I found his wet clothes and a wallet from the backyard.

There was Saara's credit card inside the wallet.
They had just moved living quite near to us. He was drunk. He must have fallen down and taken all his wet clothes off. The houses look all pretty much the same.
But instead of finding his loving, but possibly angry wife, there was a strange man inside his home, telling him that Saara (obviously a wrong one) was living near the station.

I thought how utterly confused he must have been and how ashamed and confused he must be now. I thought why I couldn't trust anyone anymore.
Then I saw a black plastic bag on the porch.
Me: Oh my god! It's Saara! Maybe he didn't remember where he left the remains of his wife.
I opened the bag. It was filled with rubbish, leftovers from the workers repairing the roof.